The lovely Hermione found a polite excuse and quickly detached herself from Harry Potter.
It wasn't personal, but standing next to "The Boy Who Lived" was like standing next to a neon sign in a blackout. Even here, just outside Ollivander's, passersby were already beginning to stare, whispering behind their hands.
The prudent Hermione didn't want to stand within the blast radius of this walking danger source. So, once her system mission was confirmed complete, she ran away immediately.
Harry, puzzled by her sudden departure but too polite to chase her, didn't wait long before a massive shadow fell over him.
"Harry, look what I got fer yeh?"
Rubeus Hagrid, standing at over three meters tall, beamed down at the boy. In the crowd of Diagon Alley, he was a lighthouse of mole-skin and hair.
Hagrid was very kind to Harry. When he had first picked Harry up from the Dursleys', he had brought a cake—Harry's first real birthday celebration. Harry's feelings for Hagrid were naturally warm and trusting.
"It's an owl," Harry said happily, looking at the snowy white bird in the cage Hagrid held.
Hagrid chatted with Harry as they walked. He was on a specific task assigned by Headmaster Dumbledore, and being a simple, honest soul, he didn't think to ask Harry about the specific details of his wand purchase—or the odd girl who bought two.
But Harry's doubts had been accumulating all day, and he finally voiced them.
"Hagrid, why do so many people recognize my name when I come here? Also, what does Mr. Ollivander mean about the person 'who cannot be mentioned'? What does he have to do with this scar on my forehead?"
Hagrid stopped in his tracks, looking a little embarrassed. He pulled Harry into the relative quiet of a side alley, glancing around nervously.
"Harry, yer not an ordinary wizard. Yer the only one who survived... Him."
"Hagrid, who is that person?" Harry pressed. He knew Hagrid cared for him, so he pushed, hoping for the truth.
Hagrid looked into Harry's bright green eyes, seeing the ghost of Lily Potter in them. Finally, he sighed, his shoulders slumping. "Well, let me tell yeh quietly. That man... his name was Voldemort."
"Voldemort?"
As soon as the name was uttered, the air in the alley seemed to drop ten degrees. A gust of cold wind blew trash across the cobblestones. Harry shuddered instinctively.
"Shh!" Hagrid hissed, looking terrified. "Don't say the name. But yes... it was him."
The big, naive Hagrid gave Harry a brief, sanitized explanation of the terrible past. He spoke of the dark days when Voldemort wanted to rule the world brutally, launching the First Wizarding War and killing many people. He spoke of how Harry's parents, James and Lily, had fought against him and were ruthlessly murdered.
"But, Harry, you are special. You are the one who stopped him. You survived the Killing Curse. That night, something happened... and he was destroyed. Or mostly destroyed. So you are the hero of the entire wizarding world."
Harry was emotional. So it was. The scar on his forehead wasn't just a car crash injury, as the Dursleys had claimed. It was a mark of survival.
"Hagrid, will Voldemort make a comeback?" Harry asked, his mind racing.
Hagrid hesitated for a while, shifting his weight. "Some say he's died. Codswallop, in my opinion. Dunno if he had enough human left in him to die. But, yeah... his followers, the Death Eaters... they're still out there."
Hagrid felt he had said too much. He shook his bushy head. "Come on. Best be off to Gringotts."
He needed to retrieve the package from Vault 713. When Harry asked what was in the grubby little package, Hagrid only replied that it was "top secret Hogwarts business" for Dumbledore.
In short, in the magical world, everything was mysterious.
On the other side of the alley, Hermione spotted the flaming red hair of the Weasley clan. Ron was entering a second-hand robe shop with his brothers.
Hermione didn't go over to join in the fun.
Instead, she slipped into an unmanned corner behind the Magical Menagerie. After checking twice to ensure no outsiders were following or watching her, she carefully concentrated.
From the inventory of her mind, she retrieved the reward: The Magical Space Ring.
It was really amazing that she had actually obtained a spatial storage item. In many fantasy novels, these were rare artifacts.
According to the system prompt, this ring operated on a Blood Contract.
This was very humane and secure. The ring could only be used and opened by the person who bonded it with their blood. If it fell into the hands of an outsider, it would appear as nothing more than a piece of cheap costume jewelry.
Hermione was a little excited. She pricked her finger with a small pin she carried, letting a drop of blood fall onto the silver metal.
Flash.
The ring drank the blood. She slipped it onto her finger. It was beautiful—crystal clear, with gorgeous, intricate carvings that swirled like smoke. It looked very fashionable.
After the contract was successful, Hermione sent a probe of consciousness into the ring.
She gasped.
It wasn't the 1 cubic meter she had expected—a small closet's worth of space. It was massive.
Inside was a pocket dimension measuring 10 meters long, 10 meters wide, and 10 meters high. That was 1,000 cubic meters of storage. She could fit a house in there.
"It really is a treasure!"
Hermione wasted no time. She rudely shoved the two wands she had bought, Windmourne and Bouncing Bomb, into the void.
It's so convenient!
Hermione was very happy. She began to calculate her remaining money. As a beautiful girl who had traveled from the modern world, she naturally attached great importance to the quality of life. She immediately went on a shopping spree, buying toiletries, high-quality parchment, snacks, and other daily necessities, quietly stashing them all into the Magical Space Ring whenever no one was looking.
As she passed a dark, somewhat seedy tavern—The Leaky Cauldron—she saw a figure through the grimy window.
Quirinus Quirrell.
The Professor of Defense Against the Dark Arts at Hogwarts.
He looked strange. His thin, nervous body was wrapped in robes, and a thick, purple turban was wound tightly around his head. He twitched constantly, his facial features and speech seemingly uncoordinated, as if the nerves controlling them were under immense strain.
As Hermione watched, Quirrell turned. His eyes seemed to lock onto her through the glass.
Hermione's heart skipped a beat. She hurried away immediately. This guy was someone she couldn't afford to offend, and she certainly couldn't let him doubt her.
No one else knew yet, but Hermione knew it very well.
Professor Quirrell's head was wrapped in that thick turban because it concealed Voldemort's face on the back of his skull. It was super scary.
Professor Quirrell was Voldemort's temporary Horcrux. The reason he appeared here was to help his master steal the Philosopher's Stone to regain a body.
Hermione didn't want to participate in these things at all. One wrong move, and she would "hang up"—die. It was too dangerous!
However, the System decided to play a big joke on Hermione.
Just as she was picking up her pace to leave the area, the blue light curtain materialized, blocking her path.
> [Option 1: Enter the tavern, hook up with Professor Quirrell, and tear off his thick hood in public, exposing Voldemort. Complete the task, Reward: Basic Attribute +1]
> [Option 2: Enter the tavern, secretly cooperate with Professor Quirrell, steal the Magic Stone together. Reward: 1 Top Wand (Elder Wand level).]
> [Option 3: Pass by quietly, like the wind that no one knows about. Reward: 1 Pure Cotton Hat.]
>
"..."
Hermione looked at these three options and was speechless.
Option 1 was suicide. Option 2 was villainy (and also suicide, eventually). Even though the rewards were attractive, the risk was astronomical. It was simply putting herself on a fire rack and grilling herself.
Even though the reward for Option 3 was garbage, for the sake of her life, Miss Hermione barely hesitated. She chose to pass by quietly, turning into a wind that no one noticed.
She walked briskly to the station, boarded the train, and finally breathed a sigh of relief.
> [Congratulations on completing the task. Reward: 1 Pure Cotton Hat.]
>
Hermione took out the hat curiously to see what was special.
It was... a hat.
It was made of pure cotton, and the quality wasn't bad, soft to the touch. But the color...
It was a vibrant, undeniable green.
A green hat. In Chinese culture, wearing a "green hat" meant one's partner was cheating on them. It was a symbol of cuckoldry.
Just at this time, the compartment door slid open. Ron Weasley entered. He wasn't with Harry Potter at the moment. The first time he saw the beautiful and lovely Hermione sitting there, his face lit up and he walked over with a smile.
"Is this your new hat?" Ron asked, looking at the object in her hands. "It looks good."
Hermione's pretty face contorted into a strange expression. She looked at the green hat, then at the innocent, red-headed boy who would, in another life, be her husband.
"Do you like it?" Hermione asked, a mischievous glint in her eye. "I'll give it to you then."
Having said that, Hermione generously handed the green cotton hat that the system rewarded to Ron.
Ron, completely unaware of the cultural implication from Hermione's previous life, was not polite. He happily took the gift.
"Thanks, Hermione!"
He put the green cotton hat on his head right there in front of her. He turned to the window reflection, tilting his head this way and that, checking his profile.
"How does it look? Does it suit me?"
Hermione had to bite the inside of her cheek to suppress a burst of laughter.
"It's pretty," she managed to say, her voice trembling slightly. "It's very suitable for you."
PLS SUPPORT ME AND THROW POWERSTONES .