A deep quiet had settled over the Gryffindor Tower, the kind that only comes in the deepest hours of the night. Inside the boys' dormitory, however, a hushed excitement cut through the stillness. Adam carefully transferred the large, square cake box into Harry's hands. The box felt heavy, and the faint scent of sugar and vanilla promised the celebration to come.
Adam couldn't help but smile, his mind flashing back to the sight in the Owlery an hour earlier. It wasn't just Athena and Hedwig that had returned. A small, impressive flotilla of four other owls had flown with them, each carrying a small, meticulously wrapped package. He felt a surge of warmth and gratitude for the intelligent creatures; they had clearly recruited help. They were truly remarkable birds.
"Alright, this is the cake," Adam said, his voice a low, excited whisper. He handed two smaller presents to Neville and another to Ron. "And these are the rest of the gifts. Be careful with them."
Ron's eyes were wide. "Blimey, Adam. You really went all out."
Harry, ever practical, steadied the cake box in his arms. "We'll be careful. Is the plan the same?"
Adam nodded, his mind already racing ahead. "Yes. You three head up to the seventh-floor corridor now. Find the tapestry of the dancing trolls and wait for me there. Stay out of sight. I'll go get Hermione."
"Okay, seventh floor, dancing trolls, got it," Harry confirmed. As they turned to leave, he paused. "Is that everything?"
Adam opened his mouth to reply, a nagging feeling tickling his mind. A face flashed in his thoughts—cool, blonde, and distinctly Slytherin—but the urgency of the moment pushed it away. It couldn't be that important. "Yeah, that's it," he said quickly. "Now go! Before someone sees you."
The three boys slipped out of the dormitory.
Once they were gone, Adam went down to the mostly empty common room, the fire crackling down to embers. He saw a seventh-year girl packing her books and hurried over.
"Excuse me," he said politely. "Could you do me a massive favor? Could you pop up and tell Hermione Granger I need to see her down here? It's… important."
The girl nodded kindly. "Of course."
A few minutes later, Hermione appeared on the stairs, her face etched with concern. She had clearly rushed. "Adam? What is it?" she asked, her voice hushed with worry.
Adam put on his most panicked expression, his heart thumping with the thrill of his own deception. He knew the lie had to be both urgent and, unfortunately, entirely believable.
"Hermione, thank goodness. We have to go. Now."
"What's wrong? What happened?"
Adam leaned in. "It's Harry and Ron. They've gone to duel Malfoy on the seventh floor. I think Neville followed them."
Hermione's face cycled through disbelief, then anger, then exasperation. "Oh, honestly!" she seethed. "Are they serious?"
"I know," Adam pressed on, inventing the rest on the spot. "But it gets worse. I think it's a trap. Malfoy isn't going to be alone. We have to warn them."
That was all it took. The thought of her friends being outnumbered overrode any anger. Her expression hardened with resolve. Those idiots! she thought. They'll get themselves seriously hurt, or worse, expelled.
"Let's go," she said grimly, and they flew through the portrait hole, rushing through the silent, moonlit corridors of the castle.
When they reached the seventh-floor landing, Adam slowed her to a halt in the shadows. His entirely fictional story required one more layer of staging. He reached into his pocket.
"Okay, Hermione," he said seriously. "One more thing. I need you to put these on."
He held out a simple black silk blindfold and four small balls of cotton.
Hermione stared at the items. "A blindfold? And cotton plugs? Adam, what on earth is this about? I thought we were saving Harry and Ron!"
Adam didn't answer immediately. Instead, he took two cotton balls for himself, rolled them between his fingers, and decisively plugged his own nostrils. He then looked at her, his expression dead serious over his self-inflicted obstruction.
"It's a Pungous Potion," he said, his voice sounding slightly nasal. He hoped the name sounded plausible enough; he had just made it up. "I think Malfoy set it as a trap. The smell is supposed to incapacitate you. I have to risk it because I need my eyes to lead the way, but you need to be protected. Blindfold for any spell flashes, plugs for the smell."
Hermione hesitated, her mind warring with the absurdity of the request. But seeing Adam with cotton sticking out of his own nose was strangely convincing. With a frustrated sigh, she relented. "Alright, Adam. I'll trust you. But this is very odd."
She took the items, hesitantly placing the cotton just inside her nostrils. Then she tied the blindfold securely over her eyes. Adam gently took her hand and led her slowly down the corridor.
As they neared the tapestry, the distinct, sharp sound of an argument sliced through the corridor's silence. Hermione froze, her hearing perfectly clear.
"...and I'm telling you, you're not welcome here, Greengrass!" It was Ron's voice, unmistakable and furious. "Go back to the dungeons before we make you!"
"Don't be an imbecile, Weasley," a cool, female voice snapped back. "I was invited."
Her hands flew towards the blindfold. "Adam, I can hear them! What is happening? I'm taking this off!"
"Don't!" Adam's voice was sharp as he pulled her forward, right into the tense standoff. "Not yet! Just trust me!"
He stepped into the middle of the group. "Enough!" His voice was sharp and commanding. As Ron and Daphne turned to him, their angry expressions illuminated by a moonbeam, Adam gave a short, almost imperceptible jerk of his head towards the blindfolded and oblivious Hermione.
The clue, subtle as it was, landed instantly. Understanding dawned on Harry's face, and Daphne's irritated frown morphed into a look of intrigued comprehension. This was all for Hermione.
"I invited her," Adam said flatly, his gaze daring anyone to argue. "It's all part of the plan. There is no time to explain. I need everyone to be quiet. Now."
A sigh of disappointment escaped Adam. He hadn't planned this part well, he realized, knowing he couldn't reveal the Room of Requirement's existence.
He reached into his pocket and bought more blindfolds from his system shop. "The area Malfoy supposedly set this up in is riddled with flash traps," he said, continuing the performance for Hermione's benefit. "They're designed to blind you. Everyone needs a blindfold."
Daphne started to object, her voice low but clear. "Taylor, this is pointless. She's already blindfolded. We just have to—"
"It is not negotiable," Adam said, his voice quiet but absolutely firm, cutting her off before she could say more. His gaze swept over all of them. "For the place we are going, everyone must wear a blindfold."
The finality in his tone created a new layer of mystery. This wasn't just about Hermione anymore. He was hiding something from them, too. While they processed this, Hermione stood frozen in the dark, her mind reeling. What is happening? she thought frantically. First a duel, then an argument, and now they're all talking about blindfolds? This doesn't make any sense. Her heart was pounding. In the swirling vortex of fear and confusion, the date and time—the fact that in just a few short minutes it would be September 19th—had completely evaporated from her mind.
Harry gave a sharp look to Ron, who looked ready to fuss again. "Just trust him," Harry mouthed silently. Grumbling, Ron snatched a blindfold. One by one, they all tied them on. Daphne, with a look of pure exasperation, took a deliberate step to her left, ensuring there was a clear distance between herself and the Gryffindors before turning expectantly towards Adam.
"Good," Adam said. "Now, we go in as a chain so no one gets lost. Everyone hold hands."
He held out a hand to his left, towards Daphne. With a put-upon sigh, she allowed her cool, hesitant fingers to link with his. He then turned to his right.
"Hermione, give me your other hand."
Confused, she did. Adam then guided her hand forward until it met another. "Harry, take Hermione's hand."
Harry did so without question, his grip firm and reassuring. From there, the rest of the chain formed quickly, ending up in a single, absurd line: Adam at the head, holding Daphne's hand on one side and Hermione's on the other, who in turn was holding Harry's hand, who was connected to Ron, with a trembling Neville at the very end.
"Alright everyone, follow me. Small steps," Adam commanded. For the next eight minutes, he led the bizarre, stumbling procession on a thoroughly disorienting journey. He led them through sharp lefts, sudden rights that had them bumping into each other, and even a full, slow circle, his goal to completely erase any sense of direction they might have had.
Finally, he brought them to a halt before a blank stretch of wall. "We're here. Stay put."
He let go of their hands and began to pace, focusing his mind entirely on the image of the celebration room. A shimmer appeared on the stone, and a tall, ornate door materialized silently from the wall. He opened it, revealing a sliver of darkness, and began guiding them in one by one. He positioned them carefully, removed their blindfolds, and then closed the heavy door. He didn't forget to position the cake on the table. The latch clicked shut, plunging the room into an absolute, suffocating darkness.
He stepped next to Hermione and gently untied her blindfold, also removing the cotton from her nose.
She blinked, expecting to see something. But there was nothing. No moonlight, no torchlight, not even a shadow. It was a perfect, silent blackness, deeper than any night she had ever known. She couldn't see Adam, who she knew was standing right next to her. She couldn't even see her own hand in front of her face. A cold knot of terror tightened in her stomach.
"Adam...?" she called out, her voice a nervous, trembling whisper in the void.
"Adam...?" Hermione called out again, her voice tighter this time, laced with a rising panic. The complete absence of sight and sound was deeply unsettling, and her imagination was beginning to run wild with terrifying possibilities.
A moment later, a calm voice spoke from right beside her, so close it made her jump. "Don't worry, Hermione. I'm here."
Relief washed over her so powerfully her knees felt weak. Adam was here. It was okay. Then his hand found hers in the darkness, and he gently placed a thin, waxy object into her palm. It felt like a piece of string.
"We need some light here," he said, his voice a low whisper. "I just found a string, and it feels like it's connected to a candle. I, ah... I think I forgot my wand in the dormitory in the rush. Can you cast a small flame charm and light the end of it?"
Feeling infinitely braver with him beside her, Hermione nodded, even though he couldn't see the gesture. She held the tip of the string between her thumb and forefinger, took a steadying breath, and whispered, "Inflamare Mitis."
A tiny, brilliant orange flame sputtered to life on the wick. But the string it was attached to wasn't ordinary. It began to burn with astonishing speed, a fizzing, energetic line of fire zipping away from her fingers. With a small yelp of surprise, she let it go.
For a terrifying second, she thought she had set the whole room on fire. The flame didn't stop. It shot across the vast, dark space in a pre-determined path, a river of fire branching out into a complex, glowing spiderweb. As it traveled, it touched other wicks, and with a series of soft, satisfying pops, candles all over the room began to ignite.
Her initial horror melted away into pure, unadulterated awe. Her eyes, now adjusting to the sudden burst of light, widened at the spectacle unfolding before her. The candles didn't burn with a normal yellow flame. They were perched atop hundreds of beautiful, ornate candle stands affixed to the wall by unseen magic. As the flames bloomed—some in sapphire blue, others in emerald green, and still more in a deep, ruby red—the light danced off the polished metal, making the stands themselves seem to glow. It was the most beautiful, magical unfolding of a decoration she had ever seen.
She wasn't the only one. A collective gasp echoed softly in the room.
"Bloody hell..." Ron breathed, his eyes wide as he stared upwards. Hermione's gaze followed his. The high ceiling wasn't filled with candles, but with a breathtaking canopy of colorful balloons, arranged in swirling galaxies of red, blue, green, and gold.
"Wow," Neville whispered, utterly captivated. "It's... it's beautiful."
Even Harry, who had known a celebration was planned by Adam, looked completely awestruck, his mouth slightly agape as he stared at the magical display, the sheer scale of it far beyond anything he could have imagined.
Even Daphne was visibly stunned. Her cool mask of composure had been replaced by wide-eyed shock. Her mind, quick to analyze, tried to process the complexity of the decoration, the elegant execution. To think these Gryffindors could coordinate something so... impressive, she thought, a strange, cold pang striking her chest. It was envy, sharp and unfamiliar, for a friendship so powerful it could inspire a gesture of this magnitude. She didn't yet know it was all the work of one person, Adam; if she had, the envy would have undoubtedly curdled into pure, undiluted jealousy.
While everyone stood frozen in this moment of collective wonder, Adam moved with quiet purpose. In the initial seconds of darkness before the candles lit up, he had already slipped a sleek, modern-looking camera out of his system's inventory. Now, as his friends were lost in the spectacle, he was a silent observer, capturing it all. Click. Click. He took photos of the awe on Ron's and Neville's faces, the rare look of shock on Daphne's, the wide-eyed wonder of Harry staring at the balloon-filled ceiling, and finally, he focused his lens on Hermione, waiting for the final piece of the surprise to click into place for her.
At first, she had been lost in the sheer beauty of the lights, a silent observer of the magical sight unfolding before her. But as the last of the candles flared to life, illuminating every corner of the room, the full picture came into view. She saw the forest of glowing candle stands, the swirling canopy of balloons, and in the center of the room, a small table. On it, a large, square cake box was waiting. Adam must have positioned it there in the darkness. Behind the table, a massive banner was strung up.
Her eyes finally locked onto the elegant, looping letters on the banner.
'HAPPY BIRTHDAY HERMIONE'
The words hit her with the force of a physical blow. Her hands flew to her mouth, and she let out a choked gasp. The date. The 19th of September. In the chaos and confusion of the duel, the trap, the blindfolds, and the darkness, she had completely and utterly forgotten. It was her birthday.
Tears welled in her eyes as she stared at the sign, at her friends' smiling faces now turning towards her, at the impossible, beautiful, magical room that had been created... for her.
For a long moment, Hermione was rooted to the spot, simply trying to breathe. The wave of emotion was so overwhelming it felt like it might sweep her off her feet. Slowly, as if moving in a dream, she took a hesitant step forward, then another, her eyes fixed on the table. The cake was beautiful, a confection of smooth white frosting and intricate, sugary flowers, its surface dotted with small, flickering candles.
While all eyes were on Hermione, Adam slipped away unnoticed into a shadowed corner of the room. He knelt beside a classic vinyl record player he had placed there earlier. With a soft click, he started the machine. A gentle crackle and hiss filled the air for a second before a warm, cheerful piano melody began to play.
It was "Happy Birthday."
Adam started singing first, his clear voice cutting through the silence, clapping a steady rhythm. Harry, standing near the table, immediately caught on and joined in, his own voice full of genuine happiness for his friend.
"Happy birthday to you..."
Following their lead, Ron and Neville, who had placed the gifts on the floor by the table, began clapping and singing along, their voices loud and enthusiastic.
Daphne, looking slightly out of place, hesitated for a moment before she too put her small, elegant gift down and began to clap stiffly. She eventually joined the singing, though her voice was barely an audible whisper amidst the boisterous chorus of the Gryffindor lions.
Tears were now streaming freely down Hermione's cheeks, but they were tears of pure, unadulterated joy. Her watery gaze found Adam across the room, who had the camera to his eye but was still singing along with everyone else. He lowered the camera for a second and gave her a warm smile, gesturing with a nod towards the single, ornate chair placed perfectly at the head of the table.
A real, brilliant smile broke through her tears. She walked the final few steps and took her seat, feeling like a queen on a throne.
The song reached its peak. "Happy birthday, dear Hermione... Happy birthday to you!"
As the final note hung in the air, everyone clapped and cheered. Hermione closed her eyes, made a wish she thought she'd never have dared to wish for—for more moments exactly like this—and blew. The small flames on the cake vanished in a single puff, leaving tiny trails of smoke curling into the air. With a steady hand, she picked up the silver knife lying beside the cake and made the first cut.
All the while, the soft click of a camera shutter provided a quiet counterpoint to the celebration. Adam, a happy organizer, participant, and silent observer all at once, continued to document everything: the joy on his friends' faces, the smoke from the candles, and the beautiful, tearful smile of the birthday girl.