Ron's eyes lit up. "Is there any way to get a Time-Turner?"
"Study hard and make progress every day."
Ron: "???"
"If you sign up for loads of electives all at once, the professors might let you use a Time-Turner," Harry added, already knowing what Ron's answer would be.
Sure enough, Ron's shoulders drooped and he replied weakly, "Uh… forget it. Taking that many classes at once is completely mental."
The handsome savior of the wizarding world always drew a lot of attention. Under the adoring gazes of a whole crowd of young witches, the two of them headed toward Transfiguration.
Even after a week, Ron still hadn't gotten used to all those eyes. He grumbled under his breath,
"Harry, could you maybe tone it down a bit? Every time we walk together, all those girls' eyes are glued to you. I might as well be invisible standing next to you."
Harry touched his own face and said helplessly, "Sorry, Ron. My talent just doesn't allow it."
Ron: "…"
"Right. I get it now. Next time we go out, I'm bringing a sign that says 'Besides Harry, Ron is here too,' or no one will ever notice me."
At thirteen, Ron was very jealous of Harry. He wanted to be just as popular, but he knew it wasn't realistic. Harry was simply too brilliant; it was hard to even imagine competing with him.
Just then, Harry spotted a familiar bushy head of hair up ahead. His eyes brightened. "Hey, Hermione!"
Hermione was hurrying along. Hearing someone call her, she turned, slightly out of breath.
"Harry, Ron? Hurry up, we're going to be late. Getting from the seventh floor to the Transfiguration classroom on the other side takes ages. We don't have much time—come on, move!"
Harry and Ron exchanged a knowing smile. Being late didn't really worry them anymore.
They walked up to Hermione, and Harry suddenly took her small hand. Hermione's face flushed so red it looked like she might start steaming, and Harry said, "Don't be scared, Hermione. I'm going to use magic."
"Wait!" Hermione blurted. She was a model student and took the school rules seriously. She knew perfectly well that they weren't supposed to be using magic in public spaces.
She wanted to stop him, but it was already too late. Harry's telekinesis lifted all three of them, carrying them gently into the air and toward the Transfiguration classroom on the fourth floor.
Since it was already happening, Hermione could only fret. "If Filch sees us, he'll punish us horribly."
"Don't worry. Filch won't punish us," Harry said.
He hadn't even had a chance to explain before Ron jumped in, barely able to contain himself. Harry's return last night had told Ron everything: Harry had reached his goal. Filch was now one of his borrowers and wouldn't give him trouble anymore—unless he wanted to give up his new ability to cast spells.
The three of them drifting down from the seventh floor to the fourth made quite a sight. Plenty of students stopped to stare.
The boys were full of envy. "They're flying without broomsticks… what an incredible spell. I want to learn that!"
The girls, meanwhile, bit their handkerchiefs and glared at Hermione's hand in Harry's. "Who is that girl? I'm so jealous…"
But soon, everyone's attention shifted away from Harry and his friends, because a familiar, cutting voice rang out from the corridor on the fourth floor.
"Who's there?"
That was Filch, shouting at the top of his lungs as if he'd just spotted something.
The next moment, a young wizard came stumbling out from around the corner, nearly tripping over his own feet.
Filch's sharp eyes locked onto him at once. He shot forward like an arrow loosed from a bow, bony fingers stabbing at the air as he yelled,
"You little troublemaker! Running in the corridors again—have you forgotten every school rule in that empty head of yours?"
Realizing there was no way to get away, the boy went white with fear. He stopped, lowered his head, twisted the hem of his robe nervously between his fingers, and shook like a leaf.
Filch quickly closed the remaining distance, glaring down at him.
"Come along. We're going to my office. I'll make sure you learn your lesson, you little brat."
He grabbed the boy by the collar and started dragging him toward his office.
After just a few steps, though, he suddenly stopped—because right in front of him were Harry, Hermione, and Ron, hovering at fourth-floor height.
For a long moment, the entire castle seemed to fall silent as the three of them and Filch stared each other down.
Even the trembling boy in Filch's grip forgot to be scared and looked curiously at Harry.
He hadn't expected Harry Potter to be doing something against the rules too—and to get caught by Filch at the same time.
That made him feel a lot better. At least now he didn't feel quite so humiliated.
If he was breaking the rules alongside Harry Potter, being seen by everyone wasn't so bad.
Maybe this little incident would even give him a chance to talk to Harry.
But things didn't go the way he'd imagined.
After a brief stare-down with Harry and his friends, Filch's cheeks twitched. Then he simply ignored them, turned away, and continued dragging his rule-breaking student toward the first-floor office.
The boy blinked in surprise, then yelled, indignant, "Harry Potter broke the rules too! Why aren't you punishing him?"
At first, Filch tried to ignore him. He knew perfectly well he was in the wrong here, and letting a student off the hook for the first time felt deeply uncomfortable.
But the boy in his grip flopped around like a fish on dry land, squirming and complaining louder and louder, until Filch finally lost his patience. He bent down until their faces were almost touching and snapped,
"Shut it, you little pest! He's Harry Potter. He's the savior. Are you?"
The boy flinched, too stunned to speak. Filch dragged him another ten meters before he finally found his voice and shouted,
"No—that's not fair! It's not fair!"
"Kid, the world has never been fair," Filch said quietly, his tone complicated, and walked away.
Hermione had seen the whole thing. "Harry, how did you do that? Filch actually let us go."
Harry smiled. "Filch is a Squib. I helped him regain the ability to cast magic. That's all."
"Oh my gosh, you can restore a Squib's magic?" Hermione knew exactly what that meant. "You're going to be in the Daily Prophet again. Once this gets out, loads of Squibs will probably beg you to treat them."
Nearby students had overheard Harry. A fifth-year witch suddenly rushed up and stopped right in front of him.
"Mr. Potter, can you really restore a Squib's magic?" she asked, her voice trembling with urgency.
Someone who knew her explained why she was so desperate. "Lina's younger brother is a Squib. He's so upset about it he's fallen into depression."
Harry gave her a warm, gentle smile that radiated reassurance.
"Of course. As long as you can bring the patient to me, I'll do everything I can to treat them."
Hearing Harry's promise, the students around them burst into cheers, then began to chant in unison:
"Potter! Potter! Potter!"
Their voices filled the morning air, and Hogwarts' dawn exploded into noise and excitement.
//Check out my P@tre0n for 20 extra chapters on all my fanfics //[email protected]/Razeil0810