Chapter 42 Heart to Heart
The Hogwarts library was always bathed in warm sunlight.
As Quidditch approached, the Golden Snitch ornament on the windowsill glowed warmly in the sunlight.
Ron sat at an old wooden table by the window, gently shaking a silver vial between his fingertips—the pale purple potion inside shimmered with tiny lights; it was the fourth dose of root-cleansing medicine Professor Snapehad given him that morning.
"Are you really much better?" Hermione walked over, holding "Magical Draughts and Potions," her robe's hem stirring a little dust as it brushed the carpet.
She placed the book on the table and reached out to touch Ron's forehead, but her fingertips recoiled sharply the moment they made contact with his skin, her ear tips turning red: "I mean... you coughed twice yesterday when practicing the Shield Charm, you're not uncomfortable today, are you?"
Ron watched her frantically tucking stray hairs behind her ear and couldn't help but smile: "Professor Snape said that after I finish this bottle, the root of the illness in my body will be almost completely cleared. Smell—"
He uncorked the bottle, and a faint scent of spearmint wafted out, very similar to the peppermint water Hermionebrewed. "I even deliberately added some of the spearmint water you gave me, just so a certain little witch wouldn't always worry the potion was too bitter."
Hermione's cheeks instantly flushed. She grabbed a quill and scribbled aimlessly on the parchment: "Who was worried... I was just afraid you wouldn't be able to drink the medicine and it would delay your spell practice."
Despite saying that, the corners of her mouth couldn't help but curve upwards, her gaze falling on Ron's wrist—the faint greenish mark left by the magic backlash was now so light it was almost invisible.
Ron looked at her serious profile, a strange emotion stirring within him. Perhaps, she could know about our situation?
Ron unrolled the dusty scroll in his mind. This time, [Humanity's Wish] didn't detect this thought.
Or rather, it didn't prompt that he couldn't do this.
He suddenly spoke softly: "Hermione, I want to tell you something." His voice was lower than usual, with a hint of solemnity, "About me and Uchiha, and... what happened before we came here."
Hermione's hand, holding the quill, paused. When she looked up, her eyes were full of surprise. She knew Ronnever spoke of the past, only occasionally hearing Japanese words like "home" from the conversations of the four Uchiha, but she never dared to ask too much.
She was afraid Ron would dislike her for it. After all, some people hated having their secrets known by others.
"We come from another world called 'Ninja World'." Ron's fingertips traced lightly across the tabletop, as if outlining a non-existent mark. "The Uchiha are an ancient family in the Ninja World, skilled in using the 'Sharingan'—an eye that can see through genjutsu and copy ninjutsu.
But when I was eight, a traitor appeared in the clan, and overnight... everyone died. Well, I was supposed to die too, but I don't know why I appeared before you." The sunlight hit his cheek, dividing his face into shadow and light.
After waiting a moment for Hermione to process, he continued: "That person's name is Uchiha Itachi. Before he killed me, he also killed my mother. Perhaps my father too."
When he spoke of his mother lying in a pool of blood on the night of the clan's massacre, Ron turned his face towards the window.
The sunlight shone directly on his face, making it impossible to see anything clearly.
Although Ron didn't elaborate on the details, Hermionecouldn't imagine what she would be like without Mr. and Mrs. Granger.
Hermione clutched the corner of her robe, her heart aching as if something was squeezing it—she remembered seeing Ron for the first time, covered in blood, lying at the entrance of the orphanage. It turned out that wasn't just an ordinary injury, but an escape after the clan's destruction.
"I, along with Shiro and Qian, might be the only ones who escaped." Ron remembered that in the original story, Itachi only spared his younger brother, Sasuke, that reckless fool who initially sought revenge for his entire clan but was eventually brainwashed by the Will of Fire. Hmm... Harry is much smarter than him.
"I can only tell the story of the Ninja World to people I trust... which is you." Ron omitted the story of the scroll in his mind; it was best not to widely publicize the gift from that unknown entity.
Hermione's eyes suddenly stung. She remembered when they were at the orphanage in London, Ron always secretly fiddled with strange "test strips" under the covers;
She remembered when he taught her self-defense, his movements were too precise for an ordinary child;
She remembered the red light that flashed in his eyes when he helped her chase Ned away at school—it turned out these were all traces he brought from the Ninja World.
Hermione's voice was a little hoarse. She lowered her head, her fingers picking at the patterns on the book's spine. "Let's not talk about those sad things... At Maria's orphanage, I saw you lying at the entrance, covered in blood. Mrs. Martha said you might not survive.
But you woke up the next day—now I know that you had just escaped from the place of the clan's massacre, and hadn't even had time to treat your wounds."
"At City North Primary School, Ned and his gang cornered us, and you used'strange moves' to make them run away, but you lied to me saying you had 'only practiced boxing for a few days'."
She looked up, her eyes sparkling with tears. "I remember most clearly the time you blocked the water Ned splashed on me in the library, and secretly 'electrocuted' him with 'current'—I already felt you were very special then,"
Hermione looked at Ron, suddenly puzzled, thinking she had been misunderstood. "Not special in a bad way, but... special in a way that needs someone to worry about."
She paused, her ear tips reddening as she added: "I just felt you were too lonely, always carrying everything by yourself. I wanted to care for you more, otherwise you'd just hide under the covers and secretly hurt, like at the orphanage, without telling anyone."
Ron looked at her reddened eyes, his heart feeling as if it had been steeped in warm water. He remembered that rainy night at the orphanage, when Hermione secretly slipped him nitric acid and ethanol from her father's clinic, saying she "just loved chemistry experiments";
He remembered her giving him "The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes" on Christmas Eve, with "Best Friend" written on the flyleaf;
He remembered how every time she saw him cough, she would quietly slip peppermint water into his pocket—it turned out she remembered all these little things.
And bags and bags of peppermints. I really don't know how much time and effort she spent on me.
Ron secretly delighted, reaching for the peppermints in his pocket, a smile he couldn't hide on his face.
"I know." Ron said softly, his fingertips gently touching the top of her hair, just like that time in the London snow. Her soft hair brushed against his fingertips, carrying the scent of sunlight.
"When you hid behind the orphanage curtains to watch me, I glimpsed you; when you brought me chemical reagents, the label read 'Dad's experimental supplies'; when you helped me pick up scattered parchment in the library, and secretly slipped me your chocolate—I knew all of these."
Hermione's cheeks instantly turned crimson. She grabbed her book, intending to stand up: "I, I just..."
"Hermione." Ron held her wrist, gently gripping it, not letting her go, "Thank you."
His gaze was very serious, as if filled with starlight. Hermione's heart suddenly pounded very fast. She wanted to pull her hand back, but she couldn't bear to—Ron's palm was warm, and when he held her wrist, the pressure was just right. She inexplicably remembered how he pulled her to run and hide from the school caretaker in the snow when they were little.
Why didn't I feel this way back then?
"Oh, right!" Hermione suddenly remembered something, snapping back to attention, "The Quidditch match starts tomorrow, Gryffindor versus Slytherin! I want to invite you... to watch the match from the Gryffindor stands."
Her voice grew softer and softer, "Ron said we can see more clearly from our side, and I brought pumpkin pasties that Fred and the others bought in Hogsmeade, the kind with cinnamon powder that you said you liked when we were in London."
Ron looked at her expectant eyes, feeling a strange guilt: "I'm sorry, Hermione." He explained,
"Snape wants me to be with him in the Slytherin stands tomorrow. He said I should have a bit of a Slytherindemeanor and that I should sit somewhere visible around him. He also said, 'Slytherin students should have some sense,' and shouldn't always hang out with Gryffindor." He secretly cursed the old bat for being untimely.
Can't snakes play with lions? (Serious face)
Hermione's eyes instantly dimmed, but she still nodded immediately: "It's okay! Professor's arrangements are more important!"
She feigned indifference, but her fingers secretly tightened on her skirt hem. "Then... after the match, shall we go to the Great Hall for dinner together? I heard the kitchen is making Shepherd's Pie today, the kind you had at the Granger family's, and I've asked the House-elves to add extra cheese."
Miss Hermione's heart was beating faster than usual. She evidently didn't know why she felt this way, secretly resolving to ask Lavender and the others when she got back.
Ron looked at her forced smile, his heart melting into a mess. He reached out to smooth Hermione's unruly hair—it was clearly useless; as soon as he pressed it down, it puffed right back up. As expected, Hermione's small hand expertly slapped away his 'magic claw'.
"Okay." Ron's voice was soft, yet firm, "After the match, I'll wait for you at the Great Hall entrance. Shepherd's Pie, and pumpkin pasties with cinnamon powder, we'll eat them together."
Hermione's ear tips turned even redder. She lowered her head and whispered, "Then I'll go back first; I still need to organize the Quidditch match notes for Harry—he always forgets Slytherin's tactics.
Even if you're Slytherin, I can't let Gryffindor lose!"
She sounded as if she were going to play herself. Waving her small fist, she clutched her book and practically fled the library, secretly glancing back at him when she reached the corner of the bookshelves.
Ron watched her retreating figure disappear at the end of the bookshelves, the soft touch of her hair still lingering on his fingertips. He picked up the silver vial on the table and gently shook it—in the pale purple potion, Hermione's flushed cheeks from just now seemed to be reflected, like the hint of red on her scarf in the London snow.
The sunlight outside the window gradually slanted westward, casting long shadows across the library. Ronknew that some things were different starting today.
From their first meeting at the London orphanage to standing side-by-side at Hogwarts, from being "friends" who protected each other to the unspoken care hidden deep in their hearts, their story was finally moving from "escape" and "loneliness" towards a future with each other.
"Damn it, why was Rin so right...?" The sunlight slanted with time, illuminating the boy's smile, a mix of shame and joy.
Chapter 43 Quidditch
Slytherin's silver-green banners flapped on the stands, clashing with the red and gold cheers from Gryffindor, making the air thick with tension.
Ron sat on the oak bench beside Snape, unconsciously caressing the peppermints in his pocket; their sweet scent permeated the greaseproof paper, just enough to mask the bitter wormwood aroma emanating from Snape.
He quietly raised his eyes, glimpsing Snape's hand hanging by his knee, the hem of his black robe swept by the wind.
"Don't look," Uchiha Shiro, beside him, nudged him gently with his elbow, his voice extremely low, with a caution uncharacteristic of him, "Professor has been staring at someone down there, it's not for Harry."
Ron didn't turn around, his peripheral vision sweeping over Xian and Lan not far away.
Xian idly tapped the armrest of the bench with his knuckles; Lan, seemingly watching the match, secretly clutched the kunai hidden in his sleeve with his right hand.
Ron took a deep breath, the grassy smell of the Quidditch pitch mixed with the faint aroma of magic Potions filling his nostrils.
Hermione had said that morning, "The wind is strong during Quidditch matches, remember to wear an extra cloak," but now it seemed he should be worrying if she would be cold on the Gryffindor stands.
"Mount your brooms!" Madam Hooch's voice pierced through the morning mist.
She hovered in the center of the Pitch on her broom, twirling her whistle between her fingers, "Gryffindorversus Slytherin, the match—begins!"
As soon as the whistle blew, a dozen brooms instantly shot into the air.
Harry, riding his Nimbus 2000, was at the forefront, the silver-grey broomstick gleaming coldly in the sunlight.
He leaned slightly forward, his gaze quickly sweeping over every corner of the Pitch—evidently searching for the Golden Snitch.
Cheers immediately erupted from the Gryffindor stands, Ron could even hear Ron yelling, "Go, Harry!"
But before Harry could fly much further, something unexpected suddenly happened.
Harry's body suddenly lurched, as if pulled by an invisible rope, and the Nimbus 2000 began to shake violently.
His hands clutched the broomstick tightly, his knuckles white, his whole body almost falling off the broom, his face as pale as the lime on the castle walls.
Gryffindor's cheers instantly turned into gasps of alarm.
"There's a magic fluctuation," Lin's voice lowered, a hint of coldness flashing in his eyes, "with malicious intent."
Ron's heart sank, he followed Lin's gaze downwards—Professor Quirrell was bowing his head, his large turban covering most of his face, his right hand secretly hidden under his robe, a faint black aura seeming to flash at his fingertips.
And just then, Snape beside him moved.
Professor Snape suddenly leaned forward, the hem of his black robe sweeping across the bench, stirring up a cold gust of wind.
He lowered his head slightly, his lips rapidly opening and closing without making any sound, but Ron could feel a subtle magical fluctuation in the air.
"Is Professor saving Harry? Doesn't he hate him?"
But this scene, when viewed from the Gryffindor stands, appeared in a different light.
"It's Snape! He's cursing Harry!" Ron's voice boomed like thunder, Ron could even see him pointing at the Slytherinstands, "I knew he was up to no good!"
Immediately after, a red figure suddenly rushed down from the Gryffindor stands.
It was Hermione.
The girl ran agilely down the steps, not bothering to brush off the grass clippings on her skirt.
When she reached the bottom of the Slytherin stands, she suddenly stopped, raised her wand in her right hand, took a deep breath, and whispered, "Incendio!"
Orange-red flames instantly shot out from the tip of her wand, like a small fiery snake, directly striking the hem of Professor Snape's black robe.
Professor Snape evidently hadn't expected anyone to suddenly cast a spell, he recoiled sharply, but the flames still caught his robe, red flames climbing up the fabric, quickly burning a charred hole.
"Damn girl!" Professor Snape growled, his left hand quickly swatting at the flames on his body, but the wand in his right pocket never pointed at Hermione.
The smell of charring from the black robe mixed with the aroma of wormwood drifted over.
Ron saw Professor Snape's face darken considerably, yet he still didn't lay a hand on a first-year student.
"Hermione!" Ron instinctively tried to stand up, but Cheng pulled him back.
"Don't be impulsive," Lin's voice held an undeniable calm, "If you go over now, you'll only make Professor Snapeangrier and embarrass Hermione.
Look at Harry."
Ron suddenly looked up, just in time to see Harry's Nimbus 2000 stop shaking.
As if breaking free from an invisible restraint, Harryregained his balance.
He took a deep breath, and though his face was still a bit pale, he immediately changed direction, soaring into the sky like a silver arrow.
Hermione, however, was very quick-witted; she ran off right after casting the spell.
Ron excitedly shouted at the Slytherin stands, "Well done, Hermione! Let him know that we Gryffindors aren't to be trifled with!"
Professor Snape finally put out the fire on himself.
He looked down at the charred hole on his black robe, then looked up, glaring at the foolish lions of Gryffindor, his eyes as cold as ice.
But he said nothing, only turned to Ron, his voice filled with suppressed fury: "It seems Slytherin's discipline still needs to be strengthened.
Come with me, after the match, you'll stay in my office."
Ron didn't argue, he just quietly glanced back at Hermione.
The girl was surrounded by her Gryffindor classmates, some praising her bravery, but her gaze swept over the crowd, secretly looking towards the Slytherin stands, and met Ron's eyes.
She quickly winked at him, as if to say, "I'm fine," then immediately turned her head, pretending to listen to Ronexplain Quidditch tactics.
Ron's lips couldn't help but curve into a smile, his fingertips again touching the peppermints in his pocket.
"Ron, you seem to be smiling more and more—Ah! Sister Lin, stop hitting my head...!"
"Let's go," Professor Snape's voice interrupted his thoughts, the smell of charring grew stronger as his black robe swept over the bench.
Ron nodded, following Professor Snape's footsteps, and the four also silently followed behind him.
Just as they walked down from the stands, they heard cheers from Gryffindor behind them—evidently, Harry had found something.
"The Golden Snitch!" Madam Hooch's voice suddenly rang out, tinged with excitement, "Harry Potter has caught the Golden Snitch! Gryffindor wins!"
The cheers instantly shook the Quidditch pitch, red and gold scarves waving in the air, like a dancing flame.
Ron looked back and saw Harry surrounded by his Gryffindor teammates, holding up the Golden Snitch, a smile on his face, Hermione and Ron standing in front, waving at him.
Professor Snape's expression worsened.
He snorted coldly, quickened his pace, his black robe swaying more violently in the wind.
"Professor," Ron suddenly spoke, his voice not loud, but just enough to make Professor Snape stop, "Hermionedidn't mean it, she was just worried about Harry."
Professor Snape turned around, looking at him coldly, his black eyes devoid of emotion: "Are you speaking up for a Gryffindor student? Ron, I thought I taught you that Slytherins must know how to distinguish their loyalties."
"I know, I know," Ron looked up, meeting Professor Snape's gaze, "But I also know that you were helping Harry just now."
Professor Snape's body stiffened for a moment, a hint of surprise flashing in his eyes, which then returned to their usual coldness: "It seems your eyes are sharper than I imagined.
However, don't ask what you shouldn't ask, and don't say what you shouldn't say."
He paused, then added, "I won't pursue what happened today with that girl.
Don't let it happen again."
With that, he turned and continued walking, his black robe sweeping the ground, leaving a trail of charred marks.
Although Professor Snape appeared cold, he wasn't as hateful towards Gryffindor as he seemed.
At least, he could have cursed Hermione just now, but he didn't; he could have ignored Harry, but he still cast a counter-curse.
"Uh, why does it feel like there's some personal grudge involved?"
"I didn't expect Professor Snape to be so reasonable," Cheng's voice came from behind him, with a hint of teasing, "I thought he'd lock you in his office to fight with Fali."
"He just looks fierce," Ron smiled, then looked back at the Quidditch pitch—the Gryffindor students were still cheering, Hermione was looking around, walking towards the castle, her brown hair shining in the sunlight.
"Let's go to Professor Snape's office first," Ron retracted his gaze, looking at the four, "Later, I'll tell Professor I'm leaving early to wait for Hermione at the Great Hallentrance.
She must be worried if I'll be scolded by Professor."
Xian nodded: "Don't worry, Chief, we'll keep an eye on Professor for you.
If he doesn't let you go, we'll help you escape."
Lin also rarely smiled: "Yes, last time you coughed twice, he even specifically gave you an extra bottle of tonic, saying it couldn't affect his Potion experiments.
This time we'll just say you're weak and need to go back to sleep."
Ron: "?"
Lan, who had been silent, finally laughed, and to Ron's surprise, Xian actually blushed?
Forget it, I'll dig deeper into their gossip later (Ron's evil smile.jpg)
The group followed Professor Snape into the castle, the corridor was quiet, only their footsteps echoing.
Ron said, "You wait outside."
Ron walked into the office, it was the same as last time he was there, shelves filled with various Potion bottles, Slytherin banners hanging on the wall.
A bottle of Potion was on the desk, Professor Snapecasually pointed to it, Ron understood and stepped forward, picked up the cup, and took a sip—it tasted a bit bitter, but not as bitter as the Potions Professor Snapeusually brewed.
He put down the cup, just about to speak, when he heard Professor Snape say, "You just said you knew I was helping Harry?"
"Mm-hmm," Ron nodded, "I felt the magic, your fluctuations didn't have malice.
Also, Professor Quirrell's movements were a bit strange just now."
Professor Snape's fingers tapped gently on the desk, silent for a moment, then he slowly spoke: "Quirrell... he has something on him that shouldn't be there.
Stay away from him in the future, especially don't be alone with him."
Ron's heart tightened—he knew Voldemort was hidden under Quirrell's turban, but he hadn't expected Professor Snape to directly warn him.
"Professor, you knew all along?"
"I'm just being cautious," Professor Snape's voice lowered, a complex emotion flashing in his black eyes, "Some things, you don't need to know yet.
When you're a bit older, I'll tell you."
He paused, then added, "Don't tell anyone about today's events, including your friends.
Especially that annoying lioness of yours!"
Professor Snape gritting his teeth like that was uncommon.
"I know," Ron nodded, he understood Professor Snape's meaning, but seemed to pay no attention to the rather ambiguous phrase "your lioness." (He's accepted it, right?)
"Alright," Professor Snape stood up, picked up the black robe from the desk, and put it on, "You can go now.
Remember to drink the root-cleansing Potion on time tonight."
"Thank you, Professor," Ron stood up, and just as he reached the door, he remembered something, "Professor, your robe... do you need me to help you mend it?
I know a bit of Reparo."
Professor Snape's body stiffened for a moment, he looked back at him, then returned to his usual demeanor: "Such a small matter, I can handle it myself."
Then a Reparo spell directly rendered Ron's gesture useless.
Ron smiled, said nothing more, pushed open the door, and walked out.
The four were standing in the corridor waiting, and seeing him emerge, they immediately gathered around him.
"How was it? Professor didn't scold you, did he?"
"No," Ron shook his head, a smile on his lips, "He even made me drink a Potion to relieve fatigue, and told me to leave early so as not to delay tonight's matters."
"I told you Professor was quite reasonable," Lin said with a smile.
"Let's go! We'll wait for Hermione at the Great Hallentrance! She must already be waiting there... Ah! Sister Lin, if you hit me again, I'll really get angry! Waaah..."
Cheng was dragged away by Xian and Lin, who covered his mouth, Lan mouthed "Good luck" and also left, leaving only Ron with a face full of black lines.
Ron walked towards the Great Hall, the sunlight in the corridor streamed through the windows, casting dappled light and shadow on the ground.
Ron felt warm inside, he thought of the peppermints Hermione had given him that morning, of how she had secretly watched him at the match, of the shepherd's pie and pumpkin pasties they would eat together that night—it turned out that from their first meeting at the Londonorphanage to standing side by side at Hogwarts, they had already spent so much time together.
When he reached the Great Hall entrance, Ron indeed saw Hermione's figure.
The girl, wearing her Gryffindor red and gold uniform, holding a copy of "magic Potions and Brews," was standing on the steps, occasionally looking towards the castle entrance.
Seeing Ron walk over, her eyes immediately lit up, and she quickly ran down the steps to stand before him.
"Are you alright?" Hermione's voice was a little urgent, she reached out to take his hand, but as her fingertips touched his skin, she suddenly withdrew them, just like in the library, her ear tips turning red, "I mean... Professor didn't scold you, did he?"
"I wasn't punished," Ron looked at her flustered expression, unable to help but smile, "Professor just made me stay in his office for a while, and also made me drink some Potion.
By the way, he also said he wouldn't pursue the matter of you burning his robe."
Hermione's eyes widened, a little disbelieving: "Really? Professor Snape isn't angry?"
"Really," Ron nodded, "Let's go eat! I'm starving."
"You're hungry?" Hermione pulled out a pumpkin pasty from somewhere, "Try it! I specifically got it from Fred!"
Ron took a bite, the sweetness and cinnamon aroma perfectly combined: "It's good, you try some too!"
Hermione's ear tips turned redder, she lowered her head, took a bite of the pasty, and the aroma of cinnamon immediately spread.
She looked up, her eyes sparkling, and said with a smile: "It's really delicious.
Even better than the one I had in London last time."
The four Uchiha stood in a corner not far away, watching them, all with smiles on their faces.
Xian whispered to Cheng: "Look at them, how wonderful.
Ron finally doesn't have to carry everything alone anymore."
Cheng nodded, his eyes filled with a fatherly satisfaction: "Yes.
The matters of the ninja world are over, now with Hermione by his side, he will be very happy in the future."
Lin also smiled and said: "In the future, we won't have to worry about him all the time either.
Hermione will take good care of him, even better than we do."
The sound of House-elves came from the Great Hall, reminding the students that it was lunchtime.
Hermione pulled Ron's hand, hurrying into the Great Hall, saying as they walked: "Hurry, or the apple pies will be snatched up by others.
I've made arrangements with the House-elves to save the biggest portion!"
Ron let her pull him, her warmth radiating from her hand, soft and warm.
He looked at her back, her red hair shining in the sunlight, and suddenly felt that living in this world was even better than he had imagined.
Chapter 44: Putting a Hat on the Strange Religion
The Gryffindor common room was buzzing with excitement, the joy of Gryffindor's victory over Slytherindissipating with the foam of butterbeer, filling every corner.
The Weasley twins generously handed out one gadget after another, and everyone was immersed in the revelry.
Only Hermione was idly stroking Crookshanks.
"...He was definitely chanting a curse!" Ron waved a chicken leg, his cheeks stuffed, but his voice was unusually clear. "I saw it with my own eyes! Snape was staring at Harry, his mouth moving, and Harry's broom started going crazy! What else is there to doubt?"
Harry silently stared at the sweets on his plate, his face still a little pale, clearly not fully recovered from the high-altitude scare.
"I don't know, Ron... but then the broom suddenly got better."
"That's because Hermione burned his robes and interrupted him!" Ron swallowed his food forcefully, turning to Hermione, his eyes shining with admiration. "You're amazing, Hermione! Incendio! A precise strike! You should have seen him..."
Hermione's fingertips unconsciously twirled a curl of hair that fell to the table, her brow slightly furrowed.
The scent of chocolate frogs didn't seem to whet her appetite; the scene from the Slytherin stands replayed repeatedly in her mind—Professor Snape's leaning body, his twitching lips, and... Rong's calm, even knowing expression at the time.
"Ron," she began hesitantly, her voice low, but it made both boys nearby look over. "I... I don't think it was Professor Snape."
"What?!" Ron almost choked on his chicken leg, coughing violently. "If not him, then who? Could it have been Professor Quirrell? He was so scared he almost shrunk into his turban!"
"I don't know who it was," Hermione admitted honestly, logical thinking beginning to take over. "But think about it, if Professor Snape really wanted to harm Harry, why did Harry's broom eventually return to normal?
And, Rong was sitting right next to him at the time, and his expression... didn't look like he was seeing a Professordoing something bad." She chose to trust the information conveyed by Rong's eyes in that moment.
"Rong?" Ron's tone rose, filled with disbelief. "Hermione, you believe everything he says now? Just because he's a Slytherin?
Oh, right, he's also a 'Uchiha' and uses that strange red-eyed magic! Maybe he can also use that evil curse!"
He regretted his words as soon as they left his mouth, seeing Hermione's eyes widen instantly and Harry's disapproving gaze, his voice trailed off. "Um... you know I didn't mean it like that."
Hermione took a deep breath, suppressing the unpleasantness that welled up in her heart from Ron's questioning of Rong.
"This has nothing to do with houses or who he is. This is just a reasonable doubt based on observation. It's too rash to accuse a Professor of being a culprit without conclusive evidence."
She stood up, her skirt sweeping the sofa, and Crookshanks reluctantly jumped onto the coffee table. "I'm leaving. I'm going to... ask Rong."
Leaving Ron and Harry to exchange glances.
"She's really changed, hasn't she?" Ron mumbled. "Before, she would have been the first to jump out and list a hundred of Snape's crimes."
Harry watched Hermione's hurried departure from the common room, sighing softly: "Maybe she just saw something we didn't."
"Now it's time for our hero to appear! Harry!" The Weasleytwins, who had snuck in at some point, tossed Harry into the air...
Hermione found Rong around the corner of the corridor leading to the Dungeons.
He was leaning against a suit of armor, holding that familiar peppermint candy in his hand, but not eating it, just watching the wrapper reflect the torchlight from the corridor walls on his fingertips.
"Hermione?" Rong was surprised to see her, then understood. "Because of the Quidditch incident?"
"Mm." Hermione walked up to him, looking up at him, her eyes filled with an urgent desire for answers, but trying to remain calm. "Ron insists that Professor Snape cast an evil curse on Harry's broom.
But I... I don't think so.
Rong, you were the closest at the time, tell me, it really wasn't Professor Snape, right?"
She chose to ask directly, which was her way of expressing trust—handing the problem to the other person, believing he could provide an answer.
Rong looked at the clear trust in her eyes and a hint of imperceptible anxiety, his heart warmed slightly, but also felt a touch of difficulty.
He couldn't betray Snape, nor could he directly expose Quirrell and Voldemort's secret—
How could a "Muggle-born" Wizard who had only been in the magic world for a year know such secrets that most adult Wizards didn't even know?
Well, Dumbledore hadn't even clearly told him that You-Know-Who was behind Quirrell's head.
He pondered for a moment, choosing to be vague, but in a way that the intelligent Hermione would definitely understand.
His gaze became serious, his voice lowered, ensuring only the two of them could hear: "Hermione, I promise you, it was absolutely not Professor Snape. He bears Harry... no ill will."
He paused, emphasizing, "The person who truly wants to harm Harry is someone else. But this matter is very complicated, and I cannot tell you more for now. You need to trust me, and... be careful."
This wasn't the complete answer Hermione wanted; she was used to solving every mystery.
But Rong's eyes were incredibly honest, and the words "absolutely" and "need to trust me" weighed heavily on her heart.
She remembered the confession in the library, the night of the clan's destruction, and how he had never let down her trust.
Her tense shoulders relaxed slightly, and she exhaled softly. "Alright." She chose to believe, even though her curiosity scratched at her like a kitten. "I trust you.
However," she added, with Gryffindor's stubbornness, "if there's danger later, you can't keep it from me. Solving problems requires information sharing."
Looking at her serious little face, Rong couldn't help but smile, reaching out to ruffle her hair, but she deftly dodged him, only his fingertips brushing a few strands of hair, creating a faint static electricity.
"Got it, Professor Hermione." He readily agreed, cleverly changing the subject. "Christmas is coming soon, what are your plans? Staying at Hogwarts or going back to London?"
The sudden change of topic made Hermione pause for a moment, then the anticipation of the holiday diluted the previous solemnity: "Harry and Ron are staying at Hogwarts. I have to visit my grandmother with Mom and Dad. What about you?"
"Then I'll go back; it's time to visit Martha." Rong's tone was a little lighter. "Cheng and the others seem to be staying. I hear Hogwarts' Christmas feast is very good." More importantly, the holiday meant more undisturbed time, which could be used to practice ninjutsu and magic, or... do something else.
Get caught? If I run faster, I won't get caught, right?
"Then..." Hermione's eyes lit up, suddenly remembering something, and she pulled out a small notice with a crooked Christmas tree drawn on it from her schoolbag,
"Then let's go back together! Come to my house for Christmas dinner then!" Her tone was filled with the excitement of "this is an offer you can't refuse."
Rong looked at the simple but tempting (to Hermione) notice and instantly understood her unspoken meaning—this was a unique invitation, Hermione Granger style.
"Sounds a lot more interesting than dealing with Cornish Pixies." He curved his lips, took the small piece of paper, his fingertips accidentally brushing hers. "Count me in."
Footsteps and Uchiha Shiro's boisterous shout came from the other end of the corridor: "Chief! Sister Lin asked if you've finished your Potion essay... Uh, did I come at a bad time?"
Hermione's ears quietly turned pink again, and she quickly said "See you in Charms class tomorrow" to Rong, then hugged her schoolbag and hurried away, leaving Rong to sigh helplessly at Cheng, while Cheng was dragged away by Lin, who appeared out of nowhere, pulling his ear.
"Hermione, you seem to have forgotten that we still have to eat together tonight..."
Frost crystals began to form on the castle windows, and the Christmas atmosphere grew thicker.
The debate about the Quidditch incident gradually subsided in Gryffindor Tower, replaced by the enthusiasm for choosing Christmas decorations and discussing gifts.
Hermione didn't press Rong further about the "someone else," but she added a few more pages of research on "Common Flying Curses and Counter-curses" to her "Theory of Magical Defense" notes, and she would unconsciously pay more attention to Professor Quirrell's large turban when he stammered during class.
Professor Quirrell and Professor Snape were sitting very close at the time... Could it be that the burning of Professor Snape's robes forced him to stop casting the spell!?
Hermione was uncharacteristically distracted... Once the seed of distrust is sown, it quietly takes root.
And before the mistletoe and Christmas carols arrive, some more secret emotions are also quietly fermenting in the cold air, waiting for the moment to break through the soil.
Deep in the Dungeons, Snape watched the glow of the tail feather and the silver sheen of the Unicorn's mane slowly blend in the crystal vial; in the Headmaster's office, Dumbledore looked through his half-moon glasses at the snowy night sky, his fingertips lightly tapping the note that read, "Quirinus attempted to approach the forbidden area on the third floor again last night."
"Quirinus, how incredible." Dumbledore looked through the night sky, seemingly seeing the fourteen-year-old Ravenclaw smiling happily with his wand.
Beneath the calm approaching Christmas, undercurrents were still surging.
Chapter 45: Christmas Return
After the excitement of the Quidditch match faded, Hogwarts welcomed a cold and damp December.
A thin layer of frost always covered the castle windows, and the armor in the corridors echoed dully as it moved.
For Harry and Ron, besides the increasingly heavy schoolwork, an even heavier stone weighed on their hearts—
Their suspicion of Professor Snape's intentions and his coveting of the object guarded by the three-headed dog on the third floor.
Since Hermione's tentative questioning was refuted by Ron, they tacitly avoided discussing the possibility of Professor Snape being the murderer in front of her, but the investigation did not stop.
"It must have something to do with that Nicolas Flamel!" Harry whispered to Ron more than once by the common room fireplace, "Remember what Professor Snape said unintentionally!"
"But we've searched almost every book!" Ron waved the 'Important Magical Events of the Twentieth Century' in his hand despairingly, "He's not in any of them! How insignificant could he be!"
Their investigation naturally couldn't be hidden from Hermione. Although she had shifted the greatest suspicion away from Professor Snape due to Uchiha Rong's assurance, the phrases "someone else" and "very complicated" instead ignited her greater desire for exploration.
If the danger wasn't from Professor Snape, then who could it be? Was Nicolas Flamel and the object he guarded the key?
Thus, in the following weeks, she dedicated herself to research even more frantically than Harry and Ron. The library became her primary habitat after class.
She was no longer limited to 'Important Magical Events of the Twentieth Century,' but began systematically searching medieval literature, ancient Alchemy treatises, and even family genealogies and records of lords of honor.
Towering piles of books always surrounded her, parchment and notes were scattered everywhere, and the quill's ink consumption was so fast that Madam Pince even cast a sideways glance.
She occasionally mentioned to Uchiha Rong that she was "helping Harry look up some information," but never specified that she was looking for Nicolas Flamel.
On one hand, she believed that until solid evidence was found, this was just a vague conjecture, and it wasn't worth bothering Uchiha Rong with unverified theories;
On the other hand, she also vaguely felt that the danger hidden behind this matter might be the very part Uchiha Rong warned her to "be careful" about.
She chose to deal with this uneasiness in her own way.
Hermione: I'm the best!
And Uchiha Rong was indeed oblivious to this. His time was divided into several parts: Professor Snape's private lessons occupied all Wednesdays and evening breaks, accompanied by the continuous use of improved potions and the slow harmonization of Chakra and magic within his body;
Dumbledore's occasional "chats" (which were actually observations and guidance on his magic control and temperament) sometimes took up an afternoon;
The rest of his time, he focused on practicing the Armor Charm Dumbledore gave him and other magic, trying to make up for the shortcomings in his magic system.
He even began to try attaching faint Chakra to his wand, hoping to cast spells more smoothly.
Although he could only feel that poking people with nightshade was more convenient.
While Hermione buried herself in old papers, Uchiha Rongalso rushed between classrooms, the Dungeons, and the Headmaster's office.
The two still often met in the library, one tackling magicproblems, the other searching for historical mysteries; though each was focused, they shared a silent companionship.
Unfortunately, Hermione couldn't find the answer in the books.
"I'm going home tomorrow, you two remember to keep looking! This person is very likely the key to breaking the deadlock!" The never-give-up Miss Chipmunk had no choice but to entrust the heavy responsibility to the two silly children due to time constraints.
Harry and Ron immediately gathered around. They eagerly discussed Nicolas Flamel's identity, Dumbledore's commission, and Professor Snape's conspiracy.
Hermione participated in the discussion, but her mood was somewhat complex: she hadn't found the answer, but she felt as if she was one step closer, and one step more dangerous, to the complex truth Uchiha Rong had hinted at.
And when the Hogwarts Express finally puffed white steam, ready to carry the students back to King's Cross Station, the worry about unknown dangers was temporarily diluted by the joy of the Christmas holiday.
Hermione held Crookshanks in her arms, its cage at her feet, meowing anxiously. Her gaze searched the crowd until she saw the black-haired figure calmly avoiding the jostling crowd and walking towards her.
"All packed?" Uchiha Rong naturally took the slightly heavy suitcase at her feet—most of it filled with books she planned to read during the holiday.
"Mm." Hermione nodded, her cheeks slightly flushed from the cold wind, but her eyes were very bright, "Mr. and Mrs. Granger should already be waiting on the platform. Shall we... find a compartment?"
They were lucky and found an empty compartment. As soon as they had put away their luggage, Uchiha Shiro's loud voice rang out from outside the window:
"Chief! Sister Lin asked... uh, you two are busy!" Before he finished speaking, he was precisely grabbed by the ear by a hand reaching from behind and dragged away.
Lin's cold voice faintly came: "Remember to finish your essay, otherwise, Professor Snape might give you a day of detention." The figures of Xian and Lan flashed past the window, Lan even playfully waving inside.
With the outside noise cut off, the compartment suddenly became quiet, with only the clatter of the train running and the faint scratching sound of Crookshanks in its cage.
Hermione took out 'Magical Potions and Draughts' and placed it on her lap, but she wasn't in the mood to read. She hesitated for a moment, then softly spoke: "Uchiha Rong, about that Quidditch day... I thought about it again."
Uchiha Rong looked at her, listening quietly.
"Professor Snape's actions were indeed very suspicious, Ron's view was not entirely without reason."
She analyzed with clear logic, her fingertips unconsciously tracing the pages, "However, if he was the culprit, his counter-curse should theoretically have targeted Harry, not broken the evil curse on the broom. And..."
She looked up, her gaze clear and honest, "I was too impulsive then, only seeing the surface. I trust your judgment more. You said it wasn't him, then it definitely isn't."
This was an unreserved trust, heavy and precious. Uchiha Rong's heart felt as if it had been gently brushed by a warm feather.
"Thank you." His voice was softer than usual, "Your trust is very important to me."
Hermione's ear tips flushed slightly. She lowered her head, pretending to tidy Crookshanks' cage cover: "I'm just basing it on logic and observation... So, can you tell me if the real danger is related to Professor Quirrell?"
She finally asked the guess that had been lingering in her mind for a long time, "He was sitting very close then, and the chaos caused by my Flame Charm, could it have... happened to interrupt him?"
Uchiha Rong's pupils constricted almost imperceptibly. Hermione's keenness exceeded his expectations. He couldn't admit it, but he also couldn't lie to her.
"Hermione," he chose an extremely solemn tone, his gaze fixed on her, "some truths are dangerous to know. All I can tell you now is: never approach Professor Quirrell alone, for any reason.
Trust your instincts, but protect yourself; that's more important than seeking the truth." He neither affirmed nor denied, only focusing on "protecting her."
This answer was almost tantamount to an admission. Hermione's heart skipped a beat, not out of fear, but a thrill of being included in the core of a secret. She nodded solemnly: "I understand. I'll be careful."
The topic was a bit heavy. Uchiha Rong looked at her slightly furrowed brow and changed the subject: "Back in London, any plans? Besides... visiting your grandmother?" He remembered her previous statement.
Hermione's face instantly lit up: "Actually, my grandmother is coming to Britain next year! So I'll be in London the whole holiday! I can take you to see my dad's clinic, and the London Library! Oh, right, Christmas dinner!
Mom said she can make the Shepherd's Pie you mentioned last time, with extra cheese!" She planned excitedly, her words coming out as fast as if she were casting a spell, "You promised to come!"
Seeing her face glowing with anticipation, Uchiha Rong's lips curved upwards uncontrollably. This feeling of being warmly invited, of being included in a family plan, was unfamiliar yet warm. "Mm, I remember. I'm looking forward to it."
The train swayed slightly, and the quill Hermione had placed on the table rolled off.
Both bent down to pick it up at the same time, their fingers lightly touching under the table. Hermione quickly pulled back her hand as if burned, and Uchiha Rong's movement also paused for a moment before he casually picked up the pen and placed it back on the table.
A subtle, sweet awkwardness filled the air. Hermione, to cover up, lowered her head to tease Crookshanks, while Uchiha Rong turned his gaze to the snowy scenery rushing past the window.
During the latter half of the journey, the atmosphere became relaxed and cozy. They talked about the History of Magic essay, and Hermione couldn't help but start planning Uchiha Rong's revision priorities again;
They shared Chocolate Frogs, and Uchiha Rong once again got a Dumbledore card;
They even briefly discussed how Muggle Christmasdiffered from Wizard Christmas.
Most of the time, Hermione spoke, and Uchiha Ronglistened quietly, occasionally responding with a few words, but his gaze always carried an indescribable gentleness.
"Uchiha Rong! I found the answer!" Hermione suddenly exclaimed excitedly, looking at the card in her hand.
Uchiha Rong:?
"Professor Quirrell should be looking for this! Nicolas Flamel's creation!" Hermione tapped the few words on the card with her fingertip—...Creator of the Philosopher's Stone,
"The Philosopher's Stone! I remember the Philosopher's Stone has unimaginable magic and the power of immortality..."
Midway, the compartment door was rudely pulled open a crack. Draco Malfoy's pale face peered in.
It was obvious he was looking for trouble. But as soon as he saw the grim-faced Uchiha Rong, he became timid, like a mouse seeing a cat.
All of Malfoy's words instantly caught in his throat, and his face became even paler.
He didn't dare to look at Hermione again, mumbled a vague "wrong compartment," then slammed the door shut, his footsteps hurriedly fading away.
Hermione looked at the door in surprise, then at Uchiha Rong, whose expression had instantly returned to normal: "What's wrong with him?"
"I don't know." Uchiha Rong picked up a peppermint candy, slowly peeled off the wrapper, "Maybe he really went to the wrong compartment."
The train finally slowly pulled into Platform Nine and Three-Quarters at King's Cross Station.
The crowd was even more dense. Hermione immediately spotted Mr. and Mrs. Granger in the crowd and waved happily. Uchiha Rong also saw Madam Martha standing a little further away; she was wearing a thick coat, her smile as kind as ever.
"Hermione! My dear!" Mrs. Granger hugged her daughter, then her gaze curiously fell on Uchiha Rong, "Uchiha Rong? I thought you were at Eton College."
"Hello, Mr. Granger, Mrs. Granger." Uchiha Rong greeted politely, his demeanor proper, with a composure that transcended his age.
"Welcome to our home for Christmas, child." Mr. Grangersmiled and patted his shoulder, "Hermione has already drawn up the menu, just waiting for you."
On the other side, Madam Martha also walked over, scrutinizing Uchiha Rong, her eyes full of relief: "You look much better, child. Hogwarts life seems to suit you well." Her concern was direct and warm.
Uchiha Rong's heart stirred. This kind of care, unmixed with any complex motives, was something he had rarely experienced in both his lives. He gently nodded: "You worried about me, Madam Martha. I'm very well."
The moment of farewell arrived. Hermione, urged by her parents, walked towards the exit, but after a few steps, she suddenly ran back and quickly slipped a small, ribbon-tied paper package into Uchiha Rong's hand.
"Gingerbread men I baked myself!" Her voice was quick and soft, her cheeks flushed, "Not much sugar... I don't know if you'll like them. See you at Christmas!"
Having said that, she turned and ran back to her parents without waiting for a reply.
Uchiha Rong held the bag of biscuits, still warm from her body, and watched her and her parents laugh and walk away, standing still for a long time. Only when Madam Martha gently reminded him did he come back to his senses.
He carefully put the biscuits into the innermost pocket of his ninja tool pouch, as if they were some precious magicitem.
On the other side of the platform, Mr. Granger was asking his daughter: "Is that the friend you often talk about, the one who's very capable but always makes you worry?"
Hermione nodded vigorously, her face beaming with pride and happiness: "Mm! And he promised to come to our house for Christmas!"
The train gradually emptied. Deep within Hogwarts Castle's Dungeons, Professor Snape stood before a bubbling cauldron, watching the golden and silver lights in a crystal vial merge with difficulty, his brow tightly furrowed, then turned and left.
In the Headmaster's office, Fawkes let out a soft cry. Dumbledore looked at the snowflakes beginning to fall outside the window and slowly said to the person in the shadows behind him:
"They have all left... The castle will become quiet, and it will be easier to hear... movements that shouldn't be there. Severus, this Christmas, we must be extra vigilant."
Snowflakes silently covered the Hogwarts Express tracks and also the streets of London.
The end of the journey was both the beginning of a warm holiday and the last calm before a deeper storm arrived.
Chapter 46 A Warm Moment
Snowflakes gently covered the streets of London, adding a quiet warmth to the city on Christmas Eve.
In the Granger family's living room, the fireplace crackled, emitting the scent of pine, which intertwined with the rich aroma of roasted gingerbread and shepherd's pie filling the air, creating an almost tangible coziness.
Ron stood by the living room window, quietly watching the snowflakes fall outside. He was wearing a slightly loose, dark blue wool sweater that Mrs. Granger had prepared for him, a stark contrast to the stiff robes of Hogwarts.
A relaxing warmth enveloped him, a tranquility he had rarely experienced in his previous two lives, one that didn't require constant vigilance. He could even clearly hear Hermione's soft laughter as she chatted with her mother in the kitchen, and Mr. Granger humming a tune while adjusting the Christmas tree lights.
What? You ask how he came to stay with the Granger family?
Please see the VCR—
"Little Ron, those are all your new younger siblings. You must protect them, understand?" Martha patted Ron's hair.
"...Grandma, I remember my room was the last one available, wasn't it...?"
Martha's hand paused, then rubbed even harder... "Ron, come and try this! The first batch out of the oven!" Hermione's voice came from the kitchen doorway, full of excited vitality. She walked out carrying a plate of freshly baked, golden-crisp shepherd's pie, with long, enticing strings of cheese stretching out, and the steam carrying a mix of meaty and milky aromas.
A bit of flour, accidentally brushed on, clung to her forehead, and her brown curly hair was slightly fluffy against her cheeks. Her eyes, illuminated by the firelight, resembled shimmering autumn waters.
Ron turned and naturally took the hot ceramic plate she offered. The pie did taste excellent; the cheese was rich and mellow, the meat filling seasoned just right, and the mashed potato topping was crispy on the outside and soft on the inside.
"It's delicious," he praised honestly. He saw Hermione's obvious smile of pride at this simple affirmation, and his own lips imperceptibly curved into a soft arc.
The entire afternoon was immersed in trivial yet relaxing daily routines.
Hermione enthusiastically showed him every Christmasdecoration in the house, from the slightly crooked-nosed ceramic snowman on the mantelpiece, supposedly left by her great-grandfather, to the string of popcorn garlands by the window that she had threaded herself as a child (and which Mr. Granger had even preserved). Every little trinket seemed to carry a piece of family memory.
Ron listened quietly; this kind of ordinary, lively chatter was a rare experience for him.
"...I always said I wanted a sister," Ron would occasionally get lost in his memories.
They helped decorate the huge fir Christmas tree together. As Hermione tiptoed, struggling a bit to place the somewhat heavy angel figurine on the most unstable tip of the tree, an arm reached out steadily from behind her.
Ron took the figurine. His movements were light and precise, perfectly placing the fragile ceramic at the highest point without even a hint of wobble.
"Wow," Mr. Granger, pushing up his glasses, couldn't help but exclaim, "Son, you have such steady hands! You're definitely a future surgeon!" he joked.
Ron merely nodded slightly, saying nothing more. Hermione, however, smiled, her eyes sparkling as she glanced at Ron, as if to say, "See? I knew you were amazing."
By evening, only the crackling of the fire and the soft rustle of turning pages remained in the living room. Hermionewas curled up in a corner of the sofa, with "Advanced Protective magic Theory" spread across her lap, engrossed in reading.
Ron sat in another armchair, holding a book on European architectural history that Mr. Granger had recommended, though his gaze occasionally lifted from the pages to the opposite side.
The firelight softly outlined Hermione's focused profile; she would sometimes frown in thought, sometimes trace a line of text with her fingertip, unconsciously biting her lower lip.
That look of intense concentration on solving a problem had a unique charm. As Ron watched, he suddenly felt, "Perhaps it wouldn't be bad if time could stop here, in this warm room, with this person before me, on this winter night."
He even patiently answered some casual questions from Mrs. Granger about "Hogwarts weather" and "school food."
Hermione would occasionally look up from her book, naturally taking over the conversation and skillfully steering it towards interesting stories about Hogwartscastle or the giant squid in the lake, tacitly building a safe barrier for him. This silent protection gave Ron a sense of security and being well-cared for.
However, beneath this almost perfect curtain of warmth, subtle undercurrents still flowed silently.
Ron's gaze would occasionally sweep over the notebook Hermione had brought back from school, lying on the living room coffee table.
When Hermione wasn't in the living room, he noticed a corner of Dumbledore's Chocolate Frog card peeking out from between the pages, as well as parchment notes filled with conjectures and question marks. He knew that her intelligent and responsible heart had not truly given up on investigating the potential dangers at Hogwarts.
The same was true for Hermione. At night, as she sat at her desk, her brow would unconsciously furrow slightly. Nicolas Flamel, the Philosopher's Stone, the third-floor Restricted Section, Professor Quirrell's cowering figure, and Ron's low, solemn warning... these fragments repeatedly collided in her meticulously logical mind, yet she could never piece together a complete answer.
Several times she turned, wanting to discuss a few things with Ron, who was sitting on her bed, flipping through his History of Magic class textbook. But seeing his rarely relaxed and peaceful expression in the glow of the desk lamp, seeing his shoulders not subconsciously tensed by potential threats, she silently swallowed her words again.
Solving problems was her instinct, but protecting this rare, unguarded tranquility of his was her stronger desire at that moment.
On the second day of the holiday, a familiar barn owl tapped on Hermione's bedroom window, bringing a brief letter from Uchiha Rin.
"The school is quiet and uneventful. Professor Snape's Dungeons lights are always on. Professor Quirrell has also not left school, and his movements are even more secretive; he was seen visiting the Restricted Section at night. May the Chief rest assured, stay vigilant. —Rin"
The content of the letter was, as always, concise yet full of information. Ron looked at the note, his gaze lingering for a moment on the lines "Professor Quirrell has also not left school, and his movements are even more secretive" and "visiting the Restricted Section at night."
The Christmas tranquility at Hogwarts was indeed just a facade; the covert activities had never stopped, and might even be more audacious due to the scarcity of people. Upon returning to school, he would have to discuss this with Snape and Dumbledore; it shouldn't be taken lightly.
Hmm? There were words on the back?
Ron flipped it over, but then immediately covered it again, his ear tips red, as if afraid someone would see it.
"Ron? Are you cold? Do you want to put on another layer?" The observant little Hermione always caught on to Ron's unease immediately.
"Ah, ah, no, I'm not cold," Ron glanced again. It clearly read:
"When are you going to get Hermione? —Jointly asked by Chang, Rin, Cho, and Lan"
What outrageous gossip! He would definitely make them pay when he got back!
Christmas morning arrived in a joyful atmosphere of unwrapping presents. The rustling of wrapping paper and surprised gasps filled the living room.
Hermione's gift to Ron was meticulously wrapped, with sharp edges. Inside was the latest edition of "Advanced Protective magic Theory," its pages carefully marked with many colorful sticky notes for indexing, and even her elegant handwriting with scattered insights and questions in the blank spaces, clearly indicating her prior study and careful preparation.
Beneath it was a pair of socks knitted from soft cashmere, where a very faint fluctuation of a warming charm could be felt when touched.
"The Dungeons is cold and damp," her explanation was in her usual pragmatic style, but her slightly flushed earlobes betrayed more emotion, "Wearing these... whether practicing spells or brewing Potions, it will be more comfortable." She remembered that his fingertips were always a bit white with cold every time he returned from Snape's office.
"Thank you, Hermione." Sincerity always reciprocates with sincerity.
Ron's gift was a very plain-looking dark wooden box, smooth and unadorned. When opened, on a black velvet lining, lay a jasmine-shaped brooch meticulously crafted from dark silver wire. The petals were elegant and lifelike, cool to the touch, yet reflecting a warm glow under the firelight.
"Wear it," Ron revealed a rare gentle smile, "If there's... bad magic fluctuation nearby, throw it out. It will buy you time to escape."
He didn't explain that this was a life-saving gadget he had tinkered with himself, containing one-tenth of his own Chakra, enough for a single use of the Body Flicker Technique. It might buy her a few seconds in a critical moment.
Hermione picked up the brooch; the cool metal touch seemed to warm her heart. Without a moment's hesitation, she carefully pinned it to the collar of her sweater, then looked up at him with an extremely brilliant smile, her eyes curved into crescent moons: "Thank you, Ron! I like it very, very much!"
Ron always liked to see her smile.
Wait, should he bring Christmas gifts for those gossipmongers when he went back?
Ron remembered the clan robes gathering dust in his bag. Good, expired gifts are still gifts! Ron decided to give them to them when he returned, to show his magnanimity.
The holiday time flew by in warmth and lingering moments. In the blink of an eye, it was the night before returning to Hogwarts. The air was filled with a faint sense of parting and vague worries about the future.
Amidst the bustling crowd at King's Cross Station, Mr. and Mrs. Granger once again extended a warm invitation to Ron: "You are welcome to come anytime, son, you can certainly consider this another home."
Hermione lingered a few steps behind her parents. Taking advantage of the moment to say goodbye to her parents, she whispered quickly to Ron, a hint of imperceptible tension in her voice: "After we return to school... be even more careful with everything. I just feel..." She didn't finish her sentence, her fingers unconsciously rubbing the cool mistletoe brooch on her collar.
Ron looked at the clear worry in her eyes and nodded solemnly: "I know. You too." He paused, his gaze calm and focused as he looked into her eyes, his tone more emphatic than ever, "Remember my words, Hermione. Absolutely, do not approach Quirrell alone. At any time."
"If Harry and the other two drag you along, call me no matter what!" Those two hotheads were definitely wildcards.
"Mm!" Hermione nodded vigorously, engraving his admonition into her heart.
Turning around and passing through the magical wall, the familiar atmosphere of Platform Nine and Three-Quarters instantly enveloped them both. The massive, dark red engine of the Hogwarts Express was puffing out thick white steam.
The whistle emitted a long and loud roar, like a rallying call, clearly signaling: the brief, peaceful holiday was over. And within that majestic stone castle, those dormant undercurrents and unseen dangers awaited their return.