Even if you're dating, the library is not the place for it. People should respect knowledge and those who come here to study—don't disrupt the learning environment.
If Padma really wanted to experience the sweetness of romance, Leonard wouldn't mind waiting until she was a bit older. Then, maybe, he could find a quiet, private place to show her what dating was like. But right now… forget it. Doing that in public—what if someone saw?
Under the stunned gazes of the Patil sisters, Leonard flew through one assignment after another with astonishing speed.
"L-Leonard, you don't have to write so fast," Padma whispered softly.
"Oh, it's just my habit. I don't like wasting time on simple things," Leonard replied calmly, not even glancing up.
Padma pressed her lips together and started on her own assignment. Whether it was Leonard's influence or not, her pace quickly picked up.
Meanwhile, Harry and Neville exchanged glances.
Wait… this isn't right. Isn't this the part where something dramatic happens?
Why had it turned into a wholesome study session?
Come on! You two are working so efficiently it makes us look useless!
Refusing to be outdone, Harry and Neville locked eyes, sharing a silent look of determination.
Think back—how did Leonard handle his homework before?
And with that, they bent over their papers, scribbling furiously.
...
Hermione, meanwhile, stared blankly at Leonard and Padma, both deeply engrossed in writing, then looked over at Parvati.
Parvati looked just as bewildered.
Is this… some new kind of date?
After thirty minutes of nonstop writing, Leonard stacked his parchments neatly and examined the clean, unblemished script. Stretching his sore wrists, he let out a long sigh.
That feeling of finishing everything in one go—it was pure satisfaction.
Harry and Neville looked at each other again, then at their own parchments, covered in scribbles and crossed-out words, and both rolled their eyes.
We can't compete. Not even close. My motivation's gone.
Beside him, Padma stared in astonishment. "You finished all of this week's assignments already?"
"Yeah." Leonard turned his head slightly to glance at her progress. As he leaned closer, Padma froze, her cheeks flushing pink.
Looking over her parchment, Leonard asked casually, "Did you save your assignments for the weekend on purpose, just so you could work on them with me?"
"Y-yes…" Padma admitted in a small, shy voice.
Hermione, watching the two interact so closely, clenched her jaw so tightly that her back teeth ground together.
"That wasn't necessary," Leonard said matter-of-factly. "I finish my assignments pretty fast. You could wait for me to finish, and then we can go over a few questions together—or go somewhere else for a bit."
Padma's eyes brightened slightly. "Then we could…"
"Finish your homework first. We'll talk about it next week." Leonard gathered his things and stood up. "I've got plans this week. Sorry, but I always stick to my schedule."
"Does next week count as part of your schedule?" Padma asked boldly.
Leonard glanced at her and smiled. "Of course it does."
As she watched him leave early, Padma didn't feel even a hint of disappointment. Instead, she was filled with excitement, already looking forward to next week.
After saying goodbye to the others, Leonard made his way alone to the corridor on the left side of the eighth floor. This area sat along the edge of one of the castle's towers—a narrow passageway, barely wide enough for three people to walk side by side.
Since there were no classrooms nearby, very few students ever came here. Some wandered in by accident, while others simply wanted a quiet place to think.
Naturally, no one ever came here with a purpose as deliberate as Leonard's—to find a hidden room.
He hadn't lied when he said he had plans. He'd been preparing this little expedition for quite some time. His goal was one of Hogwarts' most mysterious and fascinating places: the legendary Room of Requirement.
Following the corridor, Leonard soon found the famous tapestry of the trolls clubbing Barnabas the Barmy.
It was a magical tapestry, constantly in motion. Four trolls in pink ballet tutus twirled in circles, rhythmically pounding the head of a hapless wizard trapped in the middle with their wooden clubs...
It was, in essence, the wizarding world's version of "playing music to a cow." Leonard couldn't fathom what was going through Mr. Barnabas's mind—trying to teach trolls to dance ballet, and all at once, no less.
If the tapestry's scene had any truth to it, Leonard suspected that besides having a few screws loose, Barnabas must have had a poor sense of smell as well.
How else could he have ignored the stench coming off those trolls?
After experiencing that odor once himself, Leonard had seriously considered wiping the species out entirely.
They were an environmental menace.
Still, the tapestry itself wasn't the point. As the only one hanging along the entire corridor, it was undeniably suspicious—practically inviting people to wonder if something secret lay hidden behind it.
That was probably by design. Whoever created the Room of Requirement must have wanted to mislead would-be explorers, letting those who fancied themselves clever waste their time examining the "Trolls Clubbing Barnabas the Barmy" tapestry. As if to mock them: You self-proclaimed geniuses aren't any smarter than that foolish Barnabas.
The real secret lay not behind the tapestry, but on the wall directly opposite it.
By pacing past the wall three times while concentrating on what one needed most, a door would appear. Open that door, and the very room you desired would be waiting inside.
It was truly extraordinary—not merely because of the room's ability to transform, but because a room even existed behind that wall in the first place.
Leonard had already studied the castle's exterior. The so-called "eighth floor" was actually part of a tower structure, where space was extremely limited. A real hidden chamber couldn't possibly exist here.
The wall opposite the tapestry was the tower's outer wall. Passing through it under normal circumstances would lead not to a secret room—but to an eight-story fall.
That meant the door which appeared on this wall couldn't be an ordinary one. It had to function more like a portal.
This phenomenon resembled the kind of marvels found in ancient magical ruins—or perhaps the Room of Requirement itself was a relic of ancient magic.
Still, there was one clear difference. Unlike ancient ruins, which were static and hidden from most eyes, the Room of Requirement was alive—ever-changing, ever-present, and active through every generation of Hogwarts' students and staff.