On their way back to the castle, Harry suddenly stopped, lifting his trunk and tilting his chin toward Hermione. "Wanna see what Dumbledore's modifications look like?"
Hermione leaned closer curiously—and her eyes instantly lit up.
When Harry opened the trunk, she saw that the inside had been magically expanded into several levels. Dumbledore had clearly used some impressive spellwork—each level was like a separate room connected by doors.
The outermost area was a cozy rest zone. Harry's Nimbus 2000 and Nimbus 2001 were neatly propped up beside a few desks and a fireplace, where a pile of ashes was faintly glowing—Fire Ash Serpent eggs were incubating inside.
The middle section was Humphrey's den. Dumbledore had transformed it into a proper cave, where the creature crawled around comfortably.
And the innermost section was a spell practice chamber. The stone walls were etched with spiraling silver runes that shimmered faintly in the dim light.
"These are anti-magic runes," Harry explained, tapping the stone wall. "Dumbledore said any spells cast in here won't be heard outside, and it's completely safe from magical accidents."
In the center of the room stood three dummies. Hermione eyed them eagerly, her fingers twitching. "Looks pretty professional... Can I come in to practice sometimes too?"
"No problem," Harry said with a grin as he sealed that section off again. "But let's make one thing clear—you can't just barge into my dorm anymore. Tell me first if you want to use the trunk."
Hermione swatted his arm playfully but then hesitated. "Can I learn the Fiendfyre spell?"
"Don't even think about it," Harry replied instantly, his tone suddenly serious. "It's way too dangerous. Dumbledore told me not to teach it to anyone. Maybe when you're older."
Hermione pouted, ready to argue—but Harry quickly changed the subject. "By the way, how's your Legilimency training going? Can you read memories yet?"
The question hit Hermione like a bucket of cold water. Her enthusiasm vanished instantly. She looked down, staring at her shoes, and mumbled, "Sort of..."
In truth, she had secretly practiced several times in the Forbidden Forest and had even managed to peek into a monkey's surface thoughts—like finding out how many bananas it had eaten yesterday.
But every time she tried to go deeper, an intense discomfort would rise inside her. The memories she dragged up felt like shards of glass, leaving her heart pounding and uneasy.
Having been raised to respect other people's privacy, Hermione just couldn't bring herself to continue mastering such an invasive spell.
Harry could tell what she was thinking. "Forget it," he said softly. "Legilimency can wait. Focus on solidifying your basic spells first."
Hermione's eyes lit up again. "Really?"
"Really," Harry confirmed, then smirked. "But don't think that means you're off the hook. I'll be testing you next week myself."
Under the moonlight, Hermione's cheeks flushed pink—half from embarrassment, half from annoyance.
She quickened her pace. "Ugh, fine, fine, you nag!"
By the time they entered the Great Hall, dinner was nearly over.
They each grabbed a plate of roast chicken, wolfed down a few bites, and headed for the Gryffindor common room.
The moment Harry pushed open the Fat Lady's portrait, someone grabbed him roughly—it was Wood, looking dead serious.
Near the fireplace, the Quidditch team was gathered. Alicia sat nervously in a corner, twisting the hem of her robes, while Fred and George leaned back in their chairs, wearing matching this-is-bad expressions.
"What's going on?" Harry asked, rubbing his sore arm.
"Alicia's stepping down from the team for now," Fred explained, nodding toward her. "She just found out from Professor McGonagall that the Ministry's Department of Magical Games and Sports changed their hiring requirements—now they want more O.W.L.s. She needs to focus on studying, so she's moving to reserve status this term."
"So we're down one Chaser," George added, winking at Harry. "And we need a replacement—immediately."
Alicia looked up apologetically. "I'm so sorry, everyone... I didn't mean to cause trouble. But if I want to get into the Department, my O.W.L.s are crucial..."
"This isn't the time to apologize!" Wood slammed his hand on the table, startling Neville as he passed by. "I'm in seventh year too, and I still manage practice while preparing for N.E.W.T.s!"
"I didn't quit, I'm just a temporary reserve," Alicia said weakly.
"Temporary?!" Wood's voice rose, face reddening. "The match against Slytherin is right around the corner! Can't you hold on just a bit longer—"
"WOOD!" Angelina cut him off sharply, her tone fierce. "Not everyone treats Quidditch like it's their life's purpose! Alicia's thinking about her future—that's not wrong!"
Wood was left speechless, chest heaving in frustration.
Harry glanced at Angelina thoughtfully. "You, Fred, and George are all fifth years, right? Don't tell me you're also planning to—"
"Relax," Fred and George said in unison, grinning as they high-fived. "O.W.L.s don't matter much to us. Our future's in the wizarding world, not the Ministry."
Wood's face relaxed slightly at that, satisfied.
Angelina, however, shot the twins a glare before turning back to Harry. "I didn't take many classes this term. I can manage both studying and training—no worries."
"So basically," Harry concluded, "we need a new Chaser right away."
Wood swept his eyes across the room. "Anyone have suggestions?"
The fire crackled. No one answered.
A good Chaser needed both speed and accuracy—finding one on short notice wasn't easy.
Wood ran a hand through his hair in frustration, then smacked his thigh. "No time to waste! Fred, spread the word—anyone who's good on a broom, meet at the Quidditch pitch tomorrow at seven a.m. We're holding open tryouts!"
"Aye, Captain!" Fred gave a mock salute, then he and George dashed out of the room.
Seeing that he wasn't needed, Harry left the group and returned to his usual window seat.
Hermione was there, deep in thought over an open book, with a glass of orange juice waiting for him.
Harry sat down, grabbed the glass without hesitation, and gulped it down.
"What happened?" Hermione asked curiously.
Harry set down the empty glass and quickly explained the situation—Alicia's exams, the vacancy, and the need for a new Chaser.
When he finished, Hermione's eyes sparkled. She snapped her book shut. "Wait here!"
Before Harry could say anything, she was gone in a flash.
Moments later, she burst back into the room, dragging a very flustered Ginny behind her.
Ginny's long hair was a bit messy, her cheeks still pink—probably from another argument.
Looking bewildered, she blinked as Hermione quickly filled her in.
Then Hermione gave Ginny a little push toward Harry. "Harry, there's no age limit for Quidditch team members, right?"
Harry blinked. "No, as long as you can fly well—even first years can join. I mean, I—"
"Perfect!" Hermione interrupted excitedly, pointing to Ginny. "I nominate her! Ginny flies incredibly well!"
Ginny blushed deeper, ducking her head. "Hermione, don't exaggerate..."
"I'm not exaggerating!" Hermione shot back. "Last week I was passing the pitch during flying class and saw her—she told me herself that at home, she only flies slower than Charlie—and Charlie was Gryffindor's team captain!"
Harry couldn't help but grin at Hermione's enthusiasm. "Sounds impressive. All right, I'll tell Wood she can join the tryouts tomorrow. Let's give her a chance to show off her skills."
Ginny's eyes widened in surprise, her voice barely a whisper. "...Thank you, Harry."
"Oh? So you do talk to me now," Harry teased with a wink. "But really, thank Hermione—it was her idea."
Hermione lifted her chin proudly and gave Ginny's shoulder a reassuring pat. "Don't be nervous. Just do your best tomorrow."
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