"But seriously, Hermione," Harry said, his smile fading, eyes full of anticipation, "do you think we have a chance to learn that magic?"
Hermione slipped the thick book into a small bottle, her expression turning serious. "That seems like incredibly advanced magic. It might even be unique to the Professor. I doubt he'd teach it easily."
"So.. No chance at all, huh?" Ron asked. "What about Professor Lumina? Maybe she'd be willing to teach us?"
Hermione glanced at the two of them, both faces brimming with hope. "I don't think it's very likely—but you can always try."
"Listen to that. Such lofty ambitions." A cold, mocking voice cut through the corridor from the shadows of a nearby archway.
Pansy Parkinson emerged, arms crossed, followed by a group of Slytherins.
Blaise Zabini leaned lazily against the stone wall, while Crabbe, as bulky as ever, blocked half the hallway.
"Someone who barely won by cramming and pulling Muggle stunts actually thinks she can master the Professors' magic?"
"Exactly," Zabini added lazily, a smirk tugging at his lips. "Granger, your little tricks are just for show. What—hoping that slipping around on ice will get the Professor's attention?"
Harry immediately stepped in front of Hermione. "Why don't you mind your own business? Instead of hanging around and bothering us, maybe go practice a few spells—if you still remember how."
"Showing off again, Potter?" The six Slytherins now turned their attention to Harry. "You just love butting in, don't you?"
Hermione's face was slightly pale, but she stood tall, meeting Pansy's gaze without flinching. "How I perform is for the Professor to judge. As for what I choose to learn, that's my own business—it has nothing to do with you."
"Oh, listen to her! 'Nothing to do with us,' she says!"
Pansy dramatically clutched her chest, and the Slytherins around her burst into laughter. "Has Miss Know-It-All forgotten even basic manners now?"
"Shut up!" Ron's face turned crimson as he stepped forward to shield Hermione. "Hermione relies on her own ability, and everyone at Hogwarts knows that—"
"Stay away from me, poor Weasley," Pansy sneered, taking a step back with exaggerated disgust. "Trying to act like Potter now? Showing off, are you? Eww, go buy proper 1st hand cloths first."
The six Slytherins laughed even louder, and Ron's ears flushed red with anger. He surged forward, but Harry and Hermione quickly grabbed his arms, holding him back.
"Calm down, Ron!"
"Let me hit her," Ron growled, furious. "I don't care if I don't use a wand—I'll beat her to death with my bare hands—"
"Beat who to death? Me?" Pansy said mockingly, turning to the others behind her. "Did you all hear that? Weasley just said he was going to beat me to death."
"Haha!" Crabbe and the others roared with laughter again.
But Ron gradually cooled down when Harry quietly slipped his dueling badge into his hand, helping him regain control.
"What do you want? A duel?" Harry said coldly, staring at the group across from them. "Then you'd better hurry up and apply to the Professor—after all, the three of us aren't allowed to attack anyone ranked below us."
"What did you say?" Crabbe took a heavy step forward, his thick knuckles cracking. "Say it again!"
"What, want to fight?" Harry raised his chin at Crabbe. "Anytime. But let me ask—do the six of you, combined, even have half our dueling points?"
"I doubt it!" Ron added, drawing his wand as he spoke.
Just as the tension peaked between the two groups, Hermione reached out and tugged Harry and Ron back. Her voice was calm but firm. "Let's go. They're all talk. They don't dare fight."
She had already seen through their intent—to provoke them into breaking the rules and getting themselves punished.
The Slytherins' expressions turned sour, and sure enough, not one of them was willing to issue a formal challenge. Harry and Ron both wore mocking smirks.
The three of them turned to leave, but the Slytherins refused to step aside.
"Find another path. This one's blocked," Pansy taunted, stepping forward. The air around them seemed to chill. "Especially unwelcome are the people like you, you filthy mudbl—"
"Pansy!" Zabini suddenly barked, his voice laced with warning, abruptly cutting her off. Crabbe's grin also faded.
But it was already too late.
Ron's wand instantly snapped up, its tip trembling with rage. Harry's hand clenched his wand tightly, knuckles white, eyes burning with fury.
Hermione bit her lip hard, but didn't move at first. She simply stared at Pansy with a terrifyingly cold gaze.
"Say it," she whispered. Then, brushing past Harry and Ron and ignoring the towering Crabbe, she walked straight up to Pansy.
"Say it!" Hermione stared her down. "Let me see what happens to you."
Pansy Parkinson's expression shifted, as if she suddenly recalled Malfoy, who had been confined for a month and returned a completely different person.
In the end, she just snorted and turned her face away.
"We'll see about this!" the Slytherins muttered resentfully, backing off.
But Hermione moved faster.
With a flick of her wand, she pointed sharply at the two suits of armor flanking the corridor. The armors instantly stepped forward, blocking the path of the six students.
"What are you doing?!" Pansy spun around and shrieked, trying to sound bold.
"Apologize," Hermione said, her voice like ice. "Or I'll make sure you regret it."
"Regret? From you?" Pansy sneered, forcing a mocking smile.
Hermione didn't reply. She simply raised her wand and pointed it at Pansy. Her lips moved rapidly, forming a silent incantation.
Pansy flinched back in alarm. "You… what did you do to me?!"
"You'll find out soon enough," Hermione said coldly. Without sparing them another glance, she grabbed Harry and Ron by the arms and marched straight through the six frozen Slytherins.
"What did you do to her?" After walking a few steps, Ron couldn't help but glance back and ask in a low voice.
"Sleep Deprivation," Hermione whispered.
"Ah!" The two boys' jaws dropped—then suddenly burst into laughter.
"You're brilliant, Hermione!" Both gave the little witch a thumbs-up.
"Let her see what it feels like not being able to shut her eyes for ten days to half a month." Hermione lifted her chin and pulled them along as they quickly disappeared around the corridor corner.
Last time, Hermione had carelessly used "Sleep Deprivation" on the three of them without knowing the counter-spell "Wakeful Reprieve."
As a result, after just three days, all three were like hollowed-out ghosts—bloodshot eyes, explosive tempers.
Ron had blown a hole in Neville's cauldron during Potions just because Neville brushed his sleeve.
Harry had lost his temper at a Bludger during Quidditch practice and nearly threw Fred's bat out of the stadium.
Even the usually composed Hermione had shouted at Madam Pince in the library, scaring a bunch of first-years out of their wits.
In the end, it was Hermione—dragging her exhausted self—who had gone to Professor Greengrass for help to fix it.
Not long after, she finally mastered Wakeful Reprieve.
That was also when the three of them truly began their intense study routine.
Of course, Harry and Ron still sneaked in naps occasionally, but Hermione, aside from essential rest, refused to let herself slack off even for a moment.
~~~~~~~
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