If witnessing the real existence of magic had already shocked Hermione, then the words spoken with a beaming smile by Ian sent a true chill down her spine.
It was as if a memory from the past had suddenly ambushed her. Hermione felt her scalp tingle and her spine go cold; she wanted to run. But the only door leading outside was directly behind Ian.
She looked back at her father, Mr. Granger, and Ms. Helena in the office. The door was tightly shut, and in the end, she couldn't muster the courage to seek her father's protection.
"You… you… What are you talking about? I don't understand. I really don't understand anything!" Torn between admitting and denying, Hermione chose the one thing she usually despised most, pretending to be clueless.
The "smells so good" law was still at work, even across space and time.
"You know the person standing in front of you is a wizard, which is your understanding of a practitioner of magic, right?" Ian raised his wand slightly, causing Hermione's gaze to sharpen in focus.
Her body visibly tensed, and the panic in her eyes clearly showed her fear that Ian might cast a spell on her.
"You… you wizards have to obey the law too, right? In our British legal system, intentionally harming someone is a serious crime! According to Section 18 of the Offences Against the Person Act 1861, you could be sentenced to life imprisonment!" Hermione clearly didn't just love reading; she could even recite British law articles fluently, though perhaps that was also a result of her mind scrambling in panic.
Though she stuttered at first, Hermione soon became eloquent and quick-tongued. Her slightly flustered performance, however, made Ian want to laugh.
He felt like the phrase "empty bluff" had suddenly been given form.
"Who said I was going to hurt you? Do you have persecution delusions or something?" Ian deliberately showed a disdainful expression and put his raised hand to his temple.
"As your kind senior, I just wanted to let you witness the wonders of magic." As he spoke, Ian pulled a wisp of silver memory from his mind.
"Is kind really the right word here?" Hermione had a stubborn obsession with word choice. Even though her eyes were locked on Ian's every move and her heart was full of anxiety, she still opened her mouth to point out his vocabulary misuse.
Of course—
From Ian's perspective, there was nothing wrong with his word choice.
"When you're able to attend Hogwarts, then you'll understand just how accurate my description was." Ian gave the little girl a meaningful glance.
He realized maybe he didn't dislike showing off after all.
"What are you doing?" Hermione's gaze locked onto the silvery strand attached to Ian's wand, like flowing moonlight, it shimmered with a soft and mysterious glow like the brightest star in the night sky.
In that moment, Hermione wondered if it might be spinal fluid.
"Obviously, I'm helping a certain forgetful little girl recall the things she's selectively chosen to forget." With a wave of Ian's wand, the silvery thread extracted from his temple drifted lightly in the air. Like a silken ribbon guiding a mystical journey, it brought Hermione her first truly awe-struck encounter with magic.
The silver thread floated mid-air—
Then burst into points of starlight, enveloping everything around them in a dreamlike glow, as if the surroundings had been painted with magical pigments.
The boundary between reality and illusion blurred. Ian and Hermione were transported back to the moment they met, the vivid scene making Hermione gape in astonishment.
"My God! This feels just like a dream!" Her small mouth parted into a surprised "O" shape, forgetting how to close again, as if even breathing had temporarily stopped.
Hermione saw herself and her mother in the distance, walking toward the divination stall. She saw another "Ian" starting a conversation with her and her mother.
Everything felt so real, like she had been transported back in time. Hermione's mind instantly recalled countless time-travel-themed films.
So unbelievable. So soul-shaking!
Standing as an observer, Hermione was just as stunned as Ian had been when he first experienced such magic. She tried to reach out and touch the nearby utility pole to confirm whether what she was seeing was real.
Unsurprisingly, Ian's memory-replay magic had inherited some of Dumbledore's flair, just as the little girl successfully touched the pole, her hair exploded thanks to Ian's sneaky prank.
"This is magic?!"
Hermione didn't suffer any pain or injury like she might from an actual electric shock, it was all a carefully crafted illusion. Still, when she opened her mouth to speak, puffs of smoke drifted from between her teeth.
"No, this is ironclad proof that you agreed to eat the table." Ian raised his hand and gestured toward a nearby scene, where past events were playing out once again.
And the little wizard had even slowed it down like a playback, afraid Hermione might miss any of the dialogue. It was a display of a future British gentleman's meticulous thoughtfulness.
"Great suggestion. I'll give you one too, New Theory of Numerology is an excellent book. You should give it a read."
"There's no such thing as magic in this world!"
"What if there is?"
"Then I'll eat this table right here!"
Not far away, the earlier version of Hermione made that bold declaration. As Ian replayed this cringeworthy moment from her past, the real Hermione immediately covered her face in shame and frustration.
"Then I'll eat this table of yours."
"Then I'll eat this table of yours."
"Then I'll eat this table of yours."
…
Ian had fun playing the audio in a loop from his own memory, even adding various voice effects to Hermione's line. This was essentially like making a real-time parody remix video right in front of the person involved.
"Alright! I get it! I get it!" Hermione tried to interrupt Ian's live remix. Her eyes turned red, tears welling up.
But stubborn as ever, she refused to let them fall.
"Do you want me to apologize? Fine, sorry!" Hermione, too, demonstrated a sort of craftsman's pride. But her slightly defiant tone didn't quite convey genuine sincerity.
So—
Thinking it was the perfect chance to fix Miss Soon To Be Beaver's bad attitude, Ian simply resumed the memory playback.
"Oh, got it, Miss Hermione Granger. I remember what you said. People who don't keep their promises grow up to be bald, oh." Memory-Ian said this to memory-Hermione.
Although this time he didn't loop the line or turn it into a remix "video," Hermione was still utterly horrified hearing it. Her panic was now written all over her face. She instinctively raised her little hands to cover her head, a slight trembling betraying the fear and chaos inside her.
"Is this a curse? Or some kind of magic that comes true if you don't fulfill your word?" The little girl, who still knew next to nothing about the wizarding world, couldn't hide the alarm in her voice.
"That's for you to decide," Ian replied with a sly grin. Once again, he showcased his specialty: not telling lies, but never quite telling the truth either.
He was confident that a girl who loved her looks wouldn't dare to take the gamble.
Hermione indeed didn't dare.
But—
When she saw Ian pulling out the divination table again, her eyes widened in horror. The table's surface was now transformed, covered in thorns.
"No! I don't want to eat something like that!"
Hermione swallowed nervously. To her, the little wizard in front of her was practically trying to kill her. Eating wood was already bad enough, but wood covered in thorns?
How could she even bite into that? If it didn't pierce her mouth, it'd stab her stomach!
"Well, then there's nothing I can do."
Ian deliberately shrugged, immediately making Hermione more anxious.
(To Be Continued…)
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