In Charms class, a ripple of excitement went through the students when Professor Flitwick announced they would finally be attempting the Levitation Charm. Ever since they had watched him send Neville's toad soaring around the dungeon classroom, many had been itching to try it for themselves.
Professor Flitwick, perched atop his customary stack of books, divided them into pairs. Dudley was matched with Harry, while Ron, to his visible dismay, was paired with Hermione. Neville, meanwhile, was unfortunately partnered with the perpetually explosive Seamus Finnigan.
"I have a bad feeling about those two," Harry whispered to Dudley, nodding towards Ron and Hermione.
Dudley glanced over. The two of them were sitting stiffly, pointedly refusing to look at each other. It was impossible to tell who was more annoyed by the arrangement.
"Let me tell you," Dudley said with a low chuckle, observing their awkward standoff. "With a dynamic like that, it only goes one of two ways. They'll either never speak to each other again, or they'll end up together."
"What? Why?" Harry asked, his eyes wide with surprise.
"Just a hunch," Dudley shrugged. He wasn't sure where the thought came from—perhaps it was an insight gleaned from his unique perspective on human behavior, a pattern he recognized from a life lived before this one.
"Well, my money's on them never speaking again," Harry muttered. "You have no idea how much Ron can't stand her right now."
"Alright now, class, settle down!" Professor Flitwick squeaked. "Don't forget the wrist movement we've been practicing! Swish and flick, remember, swish and flick! And pronouncing the incantation correctly is very important. It's Wingardium Leviosa…"
Across the room, Seamus took a deep breath, waved his wand with far too much enthusiasm, and yelled, "Wingardium Leviosa!"
BANG!
A flash of orange fire erupted from the end of his wand. Gasps filled the classroom as a cloud of acrid smoke billowed from his desk. Professor Flitwick, startled, nearly toppled from his perch. When the smoke cleared, Seamus was covered head to toe in black soot, his eyebrows completely singed off.
"Oh, my goodness," Professor Flitwick exclaimed.
"I just wanted to make it fly…" Seamus said, his voice trembling with frustration.
"It's alright," Dudley commented quietly, a wry smile on his face. "Art is an explosion, after all."
Seamus offered him a weak, grateful smile. Professor Flitwick just shook his head, looking as if he'd already given up on the boy, and urged the rest of the class to continue.
"Wingardium Leviosa," Harry tried, carefully swishing and flicking his wand. The feather on his desk didn't so much as tremble. He tried again, changing his inflection, but the result was the same.
Dudley was about to offer a correction when their concentration was broken by the sound of bickering from the next table.
"You're saying it wrong!" Hermione's sharp voice cut through the room. "It's Levi-osa, not Levio-sar!"
"You're so brilliant, then why don't you do it?" Ron snarled, his face turning red.
"Fine, I will!" Hermione retorted. With a sharp swish and flick of her own wand, she enunciated perfectly, "Wingardium Leviosa!"
The feather trembled, lifted from the desk, and began to float gracefully in the air. Hermione shot Ron a look of pure, triumphant satisfaction. Ron just rolled his eyes and turned away, his ears burning.
"Excellent! Look, everyone, Miss Granger has done it!" Professor Flitwick cried delightedly. "Wonderful! Five points to Gryffindor!"
A polite, scattered applause went through the room. Most students were so used to Hermione succeeding that they barely registered it, and even within Gryffindor, the response was lukewarm.
Hermione leaned over to Dudley's desk. "I know you can do it too," she whispered urgently. "Now's your chance to win back some of the points you lost. You have to show them."
"You've already earned the points," Dudley replied, unimpressed. "He won't give them out twice."
"He will if you do it better," she insisted. "Trust me."
Dudley sighed. Considering Gryffindor's precarious position in the House Cup standings, due in no small part to him, he reluctantly agreed. He looked down at the feather, then at the heavy Charms textbook on his desk. Doing better than Hermione required something more impressive.
"Wingardium Leviosa," he said calmly, with a subtle, almost lazy flick of his wand. His target wasn't the feather.
With a soft whoosh, the heavy textbook lifted smoothly into the air and hovered a foot above the desk.
"Oh!" Professor Flitwick gasped, his eyes wide. "Magnificent! Mr. Dursley has levitated his textbook! That is a far greater display of magical control than a simple feather! Very good, very good indeed! Five points to Gryffindor!"
This time, a loud, enthusiastic burst of applause erupted from the Gryffindor students. Hermione smiled, but her expression was undeniably stiff. She couldn't understand it. They had both earned the same number of points, so why was the house so eager to celebrate Dudley and so indifferent to her? She followed every rule, earned points consistently, and never got them into trouble. Why did it seem like no one liked her?
After class, as they walked through the crowded corridor, Ron was still fuming. "It's no wonder no one can stand her," he complained loudly to Harry and Dudley. "She's a complete nightmare! Honestly, that arrogant look on her face… who'd want to be friends with that?"
He had no sooner finished speaking than a small figure brushed past them, running in the opposite direction. It was Hermione. From the brief glimpse they caught of her face, it was clear she was trying to hide tears.
"I think she heard you," Harry said quietly.
Ron's face flushed, but he tried to act nonchalant. "So what if she did? It's the truth. She must have noticed she doesn't have any friends."
Harry and Dudley exchanged a helpless glance.
Hermione didn't show up for any of their afternoon classes. Later, as they headed to the Halloween feast, they overheard Parvati Patil telling Lavender Brown that Hermione had been crying in the girls' lavatory all day. Ron looked distinctly uncomfortable at the news, a flicker of guilt crossing his face.
But his discomfort was quickly forgotten the moment he stepped into the Great Hall. The chamber was a spectacle of Halloween magic. A thousand live bats fluttered near the enchanted ceiling, while another thousand swooped in a low, dark cloud over the four house tables. Laughter and joyous chatter filled the air.
Suddenly, the great doors of the hall burst open. Professor Quirrell sprinted inside, his large purple turban askew and his face a mask of pure terror.
"TROLL!" he screamed, his voice cracking. "TROLL—IN THE DUNGEONS! Thought… you ought to know."
And with that, he collapsed in a dead faint on the stone floor.
Panic erupted. Screams echoed through the hall as the festive atmosphere shattered into chaos.
Amid the pandemonium, Dudley's gaze sharpened, his eyes fixed on the motionless form of the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor.
A diversion, he thought, a cold, predatory calm settling over him. So, you're finally making your move for the Stone. You've brought this upon yourself.
[Chapter Complete]
***
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