The Great Hall was packed with people, but the usual cheerful clamor of lunch had curdled into something ugly. The air grew heavy, charged with the static electricity of teenage aggression.
Although to the casual observer, the conflict seemed entirely centered on Draco Malfoy's domineering theft of Neville's Remembrall, there was a darker undercurrent. A toxic mix of jealousy and possessiveness swirled between Malfoy and Ron, fueled by the vivid green hats sitting atop the heads of the Gryffindor boys—gifts from Hermione.
Harry, bless his heart, was a straight arrow. Even though he thought Hermione was good-looking, he didn't harbor the same confusing, hormonal crush that Ron did.
Malfoy, on the other hand, viewed Hermione through the lens of possession. He didn't love her; he wanted to own her attention.
Hermione, standing on the periphery, wanted absolutely nothing to do with this testosterone-fueled disaster. She wanted to shrink into the stonework.
However, the world—or rather, the System—had other plans. The familiar blue light curtain shimmered into existence, blocking her view of the stained-glass windows. Hermione let out a helpless, internal sigh.
[Option 1: Go up and kick Malfoy in the ass. Tell him to behave, or you will take back the gift. Reward: 1 Remembrall.]
[Option 2: Cheer on Ron, fan the flames, and further escalate the conflict between Ron and Malfoy. Reward: 1 Pair of Socks.]
[Option 3: Secretly tell the teacher and let the faculty solve the problem. Reward: Basic Attribute +1.]
Hermione analyzed the rewards with cold pragmatism.
A Remembrall was a useless magical trinket for someone with a system. Socks were practical, but mundane.
However, Basic Attribute +1 was the holy grail. It was the most valuable currency she had.
While the students in the auditorium gathered around, their eyes wide with the thirst for drama, waiting for the first punch to be thrown between Malfoy, Ron, and Harry, Miss Hermione was already moving.
She slipped through the crowd like smoke, exiting the Hall and breaking into a run.
She didn't have to go far. In the entrance hall, she almost collided with a tall, severe figure in emerald green robes. It was Professor McGonagall, her expression already stern as if sensing the disturbance in the Force.
In order to complete the optional task, Hermione stopped, panting slightly to sell the urgency. She looked up with wide, innocent eyes.
"Professor McGonagall!" she gasped. "It's Ron and Harry. They... they're trying to help Neville because Malfoy took his Remembrall, but it's getting out of hand. They almost got into a fight!"
"Okay, I get it!"
Professor McGonagall didn't waste a second. She swept past Hermione, her robes billowing behind her like storm clouds. She walked with a super momentum, radiating an aura of absolute authority.
As she entered the Great Hall, the students sensed the danger immediately. It was like the parting of the Red Sea. The crowd scrambled aside, hearts tightening in their chests. When the Vice-Headmistress walked by, nobody dared to breathe.
Hermione followed in her wake, biting the bullet to ensure the task registered as complete.
[Congratulations on completing the task. Reward: Basic Attribute +1]
The moment the notification chimed, Hermione peeled away. She escaped the center of the storm, blending back into the crowd of Hufflepuffs, looking as if she had been there the whole time.
She mentally opened the System interface. There were hundreds of attributes, but she didn't hesitate. She selected Agility.
Current Stats:
[Magic +1]
[Blood Volume +1]
[Low-key +1]
[Agility +1]
Although Hermione desperately wanted to increase her Magic, the temptation of physical stats was high. Despite being a magic apprentice, a secret desire burned in her heart: the dream of the Melee Mage.
In the original world, casting magic was slow. A wizard had to recite a spell, channel intention, and wave a wand. That process took 1 to 2 seconds at the fastest.
If Hermione could move faster than that—if she could dodge effectively or close the gap during that casting time—the effect would be devastating.
Magicians were glass cannons. They weren't warriors; they didn't wear armor. As long as Hermione prepared a bloodletting dagger, flashed close with superhuman speed, and delivered a strike to the heart or neck, the lethality would be just as high as an Avada Kedavra.
Of course, if conditions permitted, Hermione's modern mind drifted to other solutions. Guns. Pistols, submachine guns, sniper rifles. Using scientific hot weapons to fight magic.
Within seven steps, the spell is fast. Within six steps, the gun is fast and accurate.
In the center of the Great Hall, the noise died instantly.
"Professor McGonagall!"
The color drained from Malfoy's face. Even his mighty arrogance faltered, the corners of his mouth twitching as his eyes darted around in embarrassment.
"What is going on?" McGonagall's voice cut through the silence like a whip. "Are you treating the school as your own home and behaving without discipline?"
Ron, his face red with anger, immediately pointed a shaking finger. "Neville received a Remembrall, and Malfoy snatched it indiscriminately! He was making fun of Neville in public..."
Professor McGonagall turned her sharp gaze to the Slytherin boy. "Malfoy, do you have anything to add?"
Malfoy cursed his bad luck internally. He glared venomously at Ron, Neville, and Harry.
"Be brave," he muttered, trying to salvage his dignity. "I was just... teasing Neville."
"Then hurry up and return the Remembrall to Neville!" Professor McGonagall ordered in a low, dangerous voice.
Even at a school of magic, bullying was an inescapable reality. It happened almost every generation.
Hermione, watching from the shadows, recalled the history. Back then, Harry Potter's father, James—a rich, arrogant pureblood—had led people to bully the young Severus Snape. It was a harsh reality: James was wealthy, popular, and talented. Snape was poor, mixed-race, and obsessed with the Dark Arts.
Even though Harry's mother, Lily, had been friends with Snape, the social dynamics crushed him. James Potter had spent half his school life chasing Lily, and eventually, Snape lost her. He became like the tragic figure in a romance novel: There was once a sincere love in front of me, but I didn't cherish it...
So now, Harry Potter was eleven, and Professor Snape remained unmarried, his heart a graveyard for Lily Evans. It was why Snape hated Harry (the son of the bully) but protected him (the son of the woman he loved).
History was repeating itself, but this time, McGonagall was intervening early.
Neville managed to retrieve the Remembrall from Malfoy's slack grip. He looked at Ron and Harry with teary eyes. "Thank you."
Malfoy was seething. He was outnumbered and humiliated, defeated by the school rules.
But McGonagall wasn't finished.
"Because Malfoy violated the rules of peaceful coexistence among students," she announced coldly, "5 points will be taken from Slytherin."
The Slytherin table groaned. This score wasn't Malfoy's personal loss; it was the House's loss. The older students glared at him.
Malfoy panicked. "Professor McGonagall, it's not fair..."
Professor McGonagall ignored him and turned to the Gryffindors. Her eyes landed on Ron.
"It is a good thing to help your classmates, Mr. Weasley. But you must also pay attention to the method. If I hadn't arrived in time, would you have engaged in a fistfight with Malfoy?"
Ron opened his mouth, then closed it.
"So, Mr. Weasley," she said sternly, "you will also be deducted 5 points. No exceptions."
Professor McGonagall had always been strict and fair.
"This..." Although Ron wanted to refute, he didn't know how to explain it. Indeed, fighting in private was one thing, but brawling in the Great Hall was a public embarrassment for the House.
"Okay, disperse!"
After dealing with the conflict, Professor McGonagall turned and marched away, her duty done.
Malfoy, as the representative of the villains, of course, would not be honest or humble. Seeing McGonagall's retreating back, he immediately sneered at Ron, his face twisting with petty malice.
"You deserve it," Malfoy hissed. "Fight me? The punishment you received this time is just the beginning!"
"You—"
It was obvious that Malfoy was the instigator, yet he acted complacent.
Ron was furious. When he thought of Miss Hermione giving a "green hat"—a symbol of friendship, he thought—to such a treacherous person, he felt even more resentful.
Fearing that things would escalate again and cost them more points, Harry quickly grabbed Ron's arm, holding him back.
"Ron, stop," Harry whispered urgently. "Once the dog bites you, you can't bite the dog back."
PLS SUPPORT ME AND THROW POWERSTONES .