Hermione slipped into the forbidden section with practised ease. Few would have expected the bookish Gryffindor to do this, at least on her own and not led into it by her associates. But the truth was, she had been slipping into this section on her own on occasion over her school years. And with having missed seventh year due to... everything she had jumped at the chance to complete her Hogwarts education.

The now nineteen year old witch had been searching the tomes occasionally at the start of school years since third, though events usually distracted her and she had ceased sneaking in by Christmas. But now, she though maybe this time nothing would distract her. And sure enough, the very thing she had been after was found, in a draughty spot deep inside the section.

A tome dealing entirely with Petrification.

Since the Basilisk in second year, she had tried to research the subject. Finding alternative cures, finding out more about the affliction, if it could come from anything else. She found that the only non-restricted book covering anything on the matter was... idiotically wrong. Written by one Bibitor Scalmum, someone who thought that it was identical to Petrificus Totalus except needing a sturdier cure and leaving the victim asleep. She herself knew it was very much nothing like that. Her body had been solid stone, and the only reason she and the others were not aware, was that thankfully the Hogwarts staff knew better than Bibitor and had managed to cast sleeping spells upon the victims.

But this. This seemed far more in-depth. It was a thick old book, and it dealt with many such elements of the subject. Unfortunately, it was poorly indexed, and she had to leaf through it all herself rather than seeking out her true goal: A spell to resist it. And doing so was nerve-wracking, the thin paper feeling light and fragile.

So far she had learned the Gorgons had been real, as had the Catoblepas, but they were deemed extinct even by the time this book had been written. But the Basilisk was still feared active, and though it was lethal with a direct gaze, the book spoke of ways to protect against that gaze, and the indirect one.  It also spoke of a way to mimic the indirect gaze overleaf. She would ignore that...

Looking at the resistance magic, it seemed a simple enough spell, but it relied on wand movements. Specific ones. Specific ones described only in text.

She sighed, turning away from the book, looking into her bag for some parchment to write it down. She'd test this somewhere safer...

(Had she looked overleaf, of course, perhaps she would have noted that the next page was very simple....)

But for now, she felt she had run the risk of discovery too much, hearing a noise in the library. She decided to retreat, having noted it down, and for now opted to risk leaving the book in place to return tomorrow.

***

She'd slipped back to the dorms, knowing of a small and isolated room she could use. It had a mirror within it, letting her look at her own movements as she tried to practise the spell. Few knew of it, and it could be locked from within, ensuring anyone trying to enter would be delayed enough for her to plan an escape....

She looked over her note, translated them in her head, and mimicked the movements as she interpreted.

She went through the motions, adjusting them as she realised a few felt off, compared to the description. She had the text almost memorised after about twenty minutes, trying to avoid the final movement that could cast the spell. She wasn't sure if there were any tracking spells watching for casting on the grounds late at night now, but she expected there might well be given past events. Either way, using her wand might draw attention if she actually cast something.

But then she made a mistake. Eyes locked on her reflection as she performed the movements, she accidentally went onto the last one. She froze in shock at first, hoping for a moment she'd made a mistake. A hope dashed as her wand glowed and a small bolt moved into the mirror.

Time seemed to slow for her as this happened, the spell carried out just by wand movements. It was rare magic, so maybe, maybe it wouldn't be detected? And then the bolt bounced off the mirror.

Before she could process the thought, it was heading back, and she saw her eyes widen as the small glowing bolt neared. In truth it all only took about a second, but it felt like minutes to her startled self.

And then the bolt hit her, and she felt a chill spread out from where it hit. Her freeze of surprise was no longer why she was unable to move. She realised with horror how familiar this was, the chill that spread. Under her pyjama bottoms and top, she felt her skin turning icy cold and rigid. Felt her remaining muscles locked in place. Unable to even cry out, she soon saw the coldness progress to visible flesh, her skin turning an alabaster grey, the same grey she had been years ago. Somehow, the spell was turning her to stone!

All she could do was stare, watch, and scream in her head as she was rendered into a startled looking statue, staring at herself with eyes locked in place. The muffled noise of her ears rendered solid. The misted-over vision of her stone globe eyes. The touch of her still-unpetrified clothes on her cold rocky skin. The faint scent of ozone from the cast spell in the tiny caves her nostrils had become. And a dusty taste on her tongue locked in place inside her partially open mouth.

There she stood, a statue with her wand raised, wearing pyjamas and slippers. Locked in place, looking at her reflection. Locked in a room, that few knew about.

(Back in the library, a gust of wind blew the page over. It warned the way to mimic the gaze of petrification was to bounce the spell off a mirror, and that without care, it would bounce at the caster. Hermione had not read it, and it seemed very unlikely she would do so the next day as she had planned....)