Ever since the day she saved Ron during Defense Against the Dark Arts, even someone as inattentive to him as Hermione had started to notice some changes.
It wasn't that Ron Weasley had been embarrassed into working harder, nor that he'd thrown a tantrum at Hermione over it.
He was still the same person—but his behavior had shifted dramatically.
He'd grown quieter than usual, and at times, there was something unsettling in his demeanor. That was why Hermione had started keeping an eye on him.
More than that...
"I remember Harry saying he hadn't seen Ron around much lately?"
Hermione's eyes narrowed in thought as she stared at Ron. Those two were always together—even when going to the bathroom. How had things changed so drastically in such a short time?
Especially after witnessing Ron's sneaky and rather underhanded behavior just now, Hermione had to bite back the urge to stand up and call him out.
If this had been their first year, there was no question—Hermione, overflowing with a sense of justice, would've never let such behavior slide. But now, she knew when to hold back and think things through.
Still... why was Ron acting like this?
As Hermione fell into quiet contemplation, a new development unfolded on the pitch...
"What now, Draco?"
Pansy leaned in close, whispering the question in his ear.
If both sides held valid reservation slips, who had the actual right to use the field?
Everyone knew that while the pitch was big enough for two teams, Quidditch strategy was never something to expose to an opponent—especially not when the teams were anything but friendly.
In short, sharing was out of the question. No wizard in their right mind would agree to it...
Draco didn't answer right away. His expression turned slightly exasperated—because he was beginning to understand what had happened.
"So that's why Snape had that weird smile on his face when he signed it."
"What do you mean?"
"I've been used as a pawn again… Just how much does my godfather hate him?"
Draco shot a glare toward Harry Potter, standing in the crowd. If his guess was right, Snape had known full well that Gryffindor had already booked the Quidditch pitch—then deliberately sent Draco here to mess up their training.
In short, he'd been dragged into someone else's grudge...
...
"Even so, I don't intend to come all this way for nothing."
Draco muttered under his breath, as if making up his mind. But before he could voice his decision, something unexpected happened again.
"You were the one talking just now, weren't you, stupid Weasley!"
Though Ron had tried to be discreet, there was no way Goyle and Crabbe wouldn't recognize his voice.
Everyone turned toward Ron at once. Strangely, there wasn't even the slightest change in his expression—it was as if he hadn't been called out at all.
That eerie calm made Draco narrow his grey eyes.
With so many eyes suddenly on them, Harry instinctively shrank back, the pressure making him uneasy. Because of that, he didn't notice the unsettling stillness on Ron's face.
That composure alone... was not like the Ron Weasley Harry knew.
"Don't think staying quiet means you'll get away with it!"
"What, pretending you didn't hear us now?"
Seeing that Ron wasn't reacting or arguing back, Goyle and Crabbe found it odd—but didn't dwell on it. They just mocked him like they always had.
But Fred and George, being Ron's older brothers, weren't going to let it slide—no matter how odd Ron's behavior seemed.
"George, looks like someone's bullying our little brother."
"Yeah, no matter what, he's still ours."
Even if they were unsure what Ron was playing at, Fred and George stepped in and took the heat off him. Thanks to that, the rest of Gryffindor turned their focus from Ron and united their glare on Goyle and Crabbe.
Compared to Ron's issue, Slytherin's attitude had become the bigger concern.
And then...
"Agh!"
"Harry, what's wrong?"
Crack!
A scream from Harry, followed by Hermione's panicked voice—and then an explosive sound echoed across the pitch as a flash of green light shot straight toward Goyle's group.
A curse!
"Who was that?!"
"Watch out!"
The warning came too late. Everyone had been distracted by the noise near Harry, and Goyle, standing front and center, missed his chance to dodge. No one else had time to react—no one even had their wand in hand.
For a heartbeat, time seemed to freeze. No one knew what the curse would do—but no one wanted to find out the hard way.
Just as the hidden caster's lips curled into a cold smirk, a voice rang out—firm and resonant:
"Protego!"
Time snapped back into motion. The green curse, moments from hitting Goyle, slammed into an invisible barrier and scattered into shimmering particles, vanishing in the air.
Every witch and wizard nearby stared wide-eyed at the glowing green shield—beautiful, mysterious, and powerful.
This was the magic that took everyone's breath away...
"That's... the Shield Charm!"
The first to react was Hermione, who was kneeling beside Harry, now clutching his forehead in pain. Her eyes went straight to Draco.
From the way he slowly lowered his wand, it was clear who had cast the spell.
The Shield Charm—Protego.
A defensive spell capable of producing a magical barrier that could deflect or neutralize physical objects and magical attacks, protecting either the caster or a designated area around them. Apart from ducking behind cover, it was one of the most effective forms of magical self-defense.
Hermione's surprise came from knowing just how difficult this spell was. Even adult wizards—Ministry employees included—couldn't always manage a proper casting.
But while Hermione marveled at the spell, the others were focused on something else entirely:
Who had cast the curse?
One thing was certain—it had come from a Gryffindor.
And the culprit...
"So that's it... wandless magic?"
Draco looked toward the one wizard he hadn't expected—with clear astonishment in his eyes.