Ron pulled a face. "Look, can't we just talk about something else?"

Hermione turned on him, practically sticking her lit wand in her patrol partner's eye. "Harry used Dark Magic, Ron. If you're as much of a friend as you like to think you are, you would want to talk about it."

"Don't be daft, Hermione. It's not as if Harry knew what that spell was, and Malfoy's fine. You'll be saying next that he should have handed that book in to Snape."

"Professor Snape," she corrected quietly as she continued down the marble staircase. "And at least if he had, we'd know it wasn't going to cause any more trouble."

"He's in detention until the end of the year as it is, Hermione," Ron protested. "Snape would have locked him up for the rest of his life if he'd seen that book."

"Malfoy could have died, Ron. Harry was lucky not to be expelled. If he'd done that outside school, he would have been put on trial. It's only because it happened here that Professor Dumbledore will probably manage to convince the Ministry to write it off as an accident. Did it never occur to you that Professor Snape knew Harry was lying? He might have been less harsh if Harry had given him the book and actually shown some remorse instead of lying through his teeth."

Ron gaped at Hermione. "You are joking, right? This is Snape we're talking about. He'd have had Harry chucked out of Potions for a starter. He'd love to put paid to Harry's chances of becoming an Auror."

"Well, maybe if he can't pass the course—" Hermione stopped when Ron fixed her with his most belligerent glare. "If Harry becomes an Auror, people's lives might depend on him being as good as he pretends he is. What if he gave someone the wrong poison antidote? What if he poisons himself or another Auror because he messes up? It's a requirement for a reason, Ron." Her words were firm, but her eyes pleaded with Ron to understand that this wasn't just about Harry humiliating her in class.

Finally, the redhead dropped his gaze and started walking again.

They crossed the entrance hall, Ron scuffing his feet. "Maybe we should check to make sure no one's in the kitchens?" he suggested.

Hermione sighed and walked on past the corridor leading to the kitchen and the Hufflepuff dormitories. "At least wait until we've done the dungeons to stuff your face," she answered in a resigned tone. "We'll have to keep an eye out for ambushes and traps after today."

Ron seemed to brighten. "I'll take care of you," he offered, draping his arm over Hermione's shoulders.

Hermione shrugged him off, pausing a few yards ahead of the arched doorway leading to the dungeon stairs. "I don't remember these statues being here before," she said, lifting her wand to give her a better view of the figures that stood on either side of the doorway.

"So what?" Ron asked. "I've said before that the statues move around just as much as the paintings. An' the suits of armour are the worst."

"Ron, these are angels."

"And?" he said dismissively. "Hermione, I've been thinking. You know when you asked me to Slughorn's Christmas party..."

Hermione paced slowly toward the nearer of the two statues, wand poised. "Hogwarts doesn't have any angel statues. Angel statues are religious. Hogwarts has statues of famous wizards and witches. It has gargoyles. It doesn't have angels, especially not weeping angels. These belong in a cemetery."

"Alright, they're a bit creepy, but so's half the stuff around here," Ron caught her by the shoulder and turned her around to face him, his gaze focused on her countenance. "Hermione, I think I have a right to know whether when— Well, it's a couple of weeks since we — Lavender and me — broke up, and I thought maybe if you..."

"Ron Weasley, you'll never know what I intended when I asked you to that party because you didn't come. If I did mean it as a date, you can't really think that you could paw Lavender for months and then just expect to— Confringo!" Her senses alert for danger, Hermione's wand had come up automatically when she saw movement out of the corner of her eye. She blasted the second statue into so much gravel just before it could reach out for Ron.

The redhead ducked, but he was still hit by hundreds of stone shards, one of which gouged a deep cut over one eye. He shook his head, trying to clear his vision. As his head turned right, he saw the blood-tinged cloud of Hermione's bushy hair. As it turned left, she was gone. There was just the stone figure, frozen where she had been. It no longer covered its face, but seemed to reach out for the girl who wasn't there. Its mouth was open in a scream of silent rage, showing teeth shaped into points.

"Hermione!" he shrieked, hoping she would step out from the shadows. "Hermione! No-o-o-o!"

She didn't answer.