Chapter 24: The High-Altitude Updraft and the Illusion of Safety part-1
I choked back a laugh. The "Dream Weaver" potion had worked better than I anticipated. Harry was rationalizing the perversion.
"Maybe you are, Harry," I said, patting his back. "Maybe you are."
"Malfoy is coming," Harry warned, his face hardening.
Draco strutted over, holding the saddle which he had retrieved from the edge of the forest. And tangled in the buckle... were the ruins of Hermione's jeans.
"Looking for these, Granger?" Malfoy sneered, holding up the shredded denim. "Although, I must say, the view was much better without them. Potty, did you enjoy the ride?"
Harry's wand was in his hand before I could even blink.
"Eat slugs, Malfoy!" Harry shouted.
He didn't cast the spell, but the threat was enough. Hagrid stepped in.
"All right, that is enough!" Hagrid roared. "Class dismissed! Everyone back to the castle! Hermione, you... er... keep the coat for now."
We walked back up the hill. Hermione was a walking tent. Harry was lost in thought, occasionally glancing at the tent with a strange expression.
I checked my new skill.
Skill: Wind Manipulation (Basic)Description: Create gusts of wind up to 30mph. Directional control.
I smiled. The next incident wouldn't need a Hippogriff. A simple staircase and a well-placed updraft would suffice.
"I am never leaving the dormitory again," Hermione announced from inside the coat.
"We have Astronomy tonight," I reminded her. "Top of the Astronomy Tower. Windy up there."
The coat stopped moving.
"I hate you, Ron," she said, though without heat.
"I am just the messenger," I replied cheerfully.
But tonight, on the Astronomy Tower, I intended to be the wind.
The spiral staircase leading to the Astronomy Tower was steep, winding and drafty. It was midnight, the witching hour and the students of Gryffindor were trudging upward, dragging heavy brass telescopes and star charts.
Most students were complaining about the cold. Hermione Granger, however, was complaining about the structural integrity of fabric.
"I am ready this time," she announced, her voice slightly muffled by the scarf wrapped around the lower half of her face. "I have analyzed the failure points of my previous outfits. Skirts are susceptible to gravity and wind. Jeans are susceptible to friction and tearing. So, I have improvised."
She stopped on the landing to adjust her bag. Harry Potter and I stopped behind her.
Hermione was wearing a set of grey, baggy muggle sweatpants. But she had not stopped there. She had tucked the ends of the sweatpants into her thick wool socks. To secure the waist, she was wearing a leather belt and a pair of clip-on suspenders she had transfigured from quill feathers. Over all of this, she wore her standard Hogwarts robes, buttoned to the chin.
"Sweatpants," Harry observed, trying to sound supportive but looking skeptical. "They look... comfortable."
"They are practical," Hermione corrected, tugging on one of the suspenders. "Elastic waist plus a belt plus suspenders. Triple redundancy. And underneath..." She lowered her voice to a whisper. "...I am wearing a one-piece competitive swimmer's swimsuit. It is aerodynamic, friction-resistant and impossible to accidentally remove."
(A swimsuit,) I thought, admiring her tactical escalation. (A solid defense. However, she has forgotten one crucial element. Swimsuits are designed for water, not for the gale-force winds I can now generate.)
"Brilliant," I said aloud. "You look like a fortress, Hermione. Nothing is getting through that."
We reached the top of the tower. The Astronomy deck was an open crenelated platform exposed to the night sky. The wind was already blowing naturally, whipping cloaks and hair around.
"Take your positions!" Professor Sinistra called out. She was a tall witch in dark robes who seemed immune to the cold. "Tonight, we are observing the transit of Venus. You will need to adjust your telescopes to a forty-five-degree inclination. Be careful with the equipment; the wind is spirited tonight."
I set up my telescope next to Neville, who was already struggling to keep his star chart from flying away. Harry and Hermione set up directly in front of me, near the parapet wall.
(System check,) I thought.
Current Status:Name: Ron WeasleyActive Skills: Wind Manipulation (Basic), Telekinesis (Intermediate), Structure Analysis, Illusion (Basic).Current Goal: Trigger an incident on the Astronomy Tower.
I waited until the class was fully engrossed in their observations. Hermione was leaning over her telescope, adjusting the focus knob. Her baggy sweatpants were bunching up and her robe was flapping in the breeze.
(Wind Manipulation,) I initiated.
I didn't want a simple gust. I wanted a vortex. I focused the air currents around the base of the tower, swirling them upward, compressing the air until it hit the lip of the parapet where Hermione was standing.
(Updraft: Activate.)
Whoosh.
A sudden, violent column of air shot up the side of the tower. It hit the students standing near the edge.
"Whoa!" Dean Thomas yelled, grabbing his hat.
The wind caught the hem of Hermione's robes. Because she had buttoned them, the wind couldn't just blow them open. Instead, it inflated the robe like a balloon. The air rushed inside, expanding the fabric outward and upward.
Hermione looked like a giant, black puffball.
"It is just a breeze!" she yelled, fighting the fabric.
(Phase Two: The Illusion,) I thought.
I looked at the heavy brass telescope she was using. It had a sharp adjustment lever sticking out of the side.
(Structure Analysis.)
I saw the lever. I saw the loose fabric of her sweatpants billowing in the wind.
(Telekinesis.)
I nudged the telescope on its tripod. It slid three inches to the left. The sharp lever snagged the fabric of her baggy sweatpants just below the waistband.
"Harry, hold my chart!" Hermione instructed, oblivious to the snag.
She tried to step forward to look through the eyepiece.
The lever held fast. Her sweatpants did not move with her.
Since the pants were baggy, she moved forward inside them for a moment before hitting the resistance.
"Stuck!" she gasped, trying to pull away.
She gave a sharp tug.
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