In the quaint, high-ceilinged classroom with its mottled stone walls, the first-year students sat in uniform black robes. The afternoon sun slanted in through the windows, illuminating dust motes dancing in the air.
Some classmates were lucky enough to be bathed in the golden light, but among them, the one who usually shone the brightest—with skin like ice and bones like jade, facial features unforgettable—was Miss Hermione.
Normally, many boys would be regretting why they neglected the opportunity to sit with her. Beautiful women are like jade; there is no harm without comparison. And among so many girls, only Miss Hermione was the cutest.
Like Malfoy, Ron also watched her. In the original story, Ron's insensitivity would eventually drive Hermione to cry in a bathroom stall. But here, Ron had collapsed directly under Hermione's charm (or "pomegranate skirt," as the idiom goes).
Of course, there were a lot of straight men like Harry. They didn't understand. Even if Hermione was cute and beautiful like a lady, was she worth going crazy over? Women only affected the speed at which straight men drew their wands!
[Congratulations on completing the task. Reward: Basic Attributes +1]
Seeing that most of the boys in the class, as well as a small number of girls, were looking at her, Hermione hardly hesitated. She added this precious point directly to her survival stat.
[Low-key +1]
Total: [Low-key +3]
In order not to let herself get so much attention, Miss Hermione also took great pains.
The effect of [Low-key +3] was immediate and potent. Professor Flitwick continued to lecture, and the students seemed to suddenly "forget" the overwhelming beauty of Miss Hermione.
If there hadn't been this boost, the boys would have looked at Miss Hermione uncontrollably. Her pure and beautiful features, coupled with her soul-stirring pupils, would have been like taking a sip of refreshing ice cream in the middle of summer—intoxicating.
But now, it was as if Hermione had been covered with an invisible veil. Her stunning looks were dimmed, no longer so dazzling to the casual observer. She blended in.
Of course, this level of low-key only blocked the attention of passers-by.
For those already obsessed—like Ron and Malfoy—the effect was negligible. They would still pay attention to Miss Hermione's every move.
The better Hermione performed, the more Malfoy admired and wanted her attention. Fortunately, the green hat she had gifted him seemed to satisfy his ego for now; he wasn't thinking about "destroying" what he couldn't have just yet.
And Ron was more normal. No matter what Hermione did, he would think she was cute. Even a casual glance or a sweet smile could make Ron happy for a long time.
The last class of the afternoon was the one the students were most excited about: Flying Class.
The location was on the wide, manicured lawn outside the castle, in the shadow of the great walls. The breeze was gentle, the grass was green, and the scenery was pleasant.
Madam Rolanda Hooch was the only teacher for this class. Perhaps because the course was physical rather than academic, she was addressed as Madam, not Professor. She had short, spiky gray hair and sharp, yellow, hawk-like eyes. Her whole person exuded a spirited, athletic momentum, like a veteran warrior.
In addition to teaching first-years how not to break their necks, Madam Hooch was also the referee for Quidditch matches.
The students were buzzing with excitement. For a magician, next to the wand, the magic broom was the ultimate symbol of freedom. Every little wizard yearned to fly.
Miss Hermione also had a particularly strong interest in flying lessons. Although in the original play, Hermione was a bookish genius who feared flying, the Hermione here had a modern mind full of practical concerns.
Specifically, she looked at the brooms lying on the grass—old School Cleansweeps with twigs sticking out at odd angles.
That stick doesn't look comfortable, she thought. If you sit on a narrow piece of wood for hours, will it hurt your butt?
After all, Hermione was a pure girl with delicate skin.
So, while Madam Hooch barked instructions, Hermione was mentally designing upgrades. Maybe add a wooden board to the back? No, too un-aerodynamic.
A bicycle seat cushion!
That was the answer. A gel-padded seat would solve the diaphragm pressure issue without affecting the flexibility of flight.
Simply perfect!
Hermione even felt that her bold and avant-garde design could be patented at the Ministry of Magic. Mass production. She could add emergency parachutes and airbags, too. If you fell, the airbag would pop instantly. Safe and profitable.
Hermione felt that her ideas were very human, supported by scientific theories, and had great market prospects. When she developed herself in the future, Miss Hermione intended to set up such a company to make a fortune.
"Flying class is a thrilling and exciting course," Madam Hooch announced, her voice booming. "I know you are all excited, but you must obey my orders. Otherwise, you may lose not only your house points, but also your life!"
She wasn't being an alarmist. Every year, students broke bones. Hogwarts was not a modern, safety-padded school. Danger was part of the curriculum.
"Did you hear that?" Madam Hooch asked loudly.
"Heard it," the students mumbled.
"Be louder!" Madam Hooch walked back and forth quickly, her hawk eyes scanning the lines. "Now, each of you stand next to your broom. Stick your right hand over the broom handle and say, 'Up!'"
"Remember, you must have emotion. Authority!"
Madam Hooch demonstrated first. "UP!"
The broom next to her seemed to have life; it flew directly into her hand with a sharp thwack.
Because Miss Hermione had [Low-key +3], she hid well among the students, looking like just another nervous first-year.
"Okay, now it's your turn."
"Up!"
Harry Potter was so gifted with flying that he was the first in the class to succeed. He barely whispered the command, and the broomstick flew up and landed in his palm obediently.
The second successful student in the class, surprisingly, was Malfoy.
"Up," he said lazily, and the broom obeyed.
The corners of Malfoy's mouth twitched into a smug smile. He immediately turned his gaze to the corner where Hermione stood. It was a pity that Hermione didn't pay attention to him, seemingly focused on the grass, which made Malfoy a little disappointed.
One after another, students began to succeed.
"Up!! UP!!"
Ron was a little anxious. He hadn't done well in Transfiguration or Potions, and now he was struggling with the one thing he thought he'd be good at.
Perhaps being too emotional caused Ron's broomstick to react violently.
Whack!
The broom flew up quickly—too quickly. The handle smacked Ron directly on the forehead with a loud wooden bonk.
"Ow!" Ron clutched his head.
Harry, standing next to him, couldn't help laughing.
"Don't laugh, Harry!" Ron hissed, furious and embarrassed.
Many boys in the class laughed. Ron subconsciously looked for the little beauty Hermione. Fortunately, she seemed distracted and didn't witness his moment of shame.
In the original movie, Hermione yelled at her broom for a long time, and it just rolled over lazily, ignoring her.
Here, although Hermione didn't show Harry's prodigious talent, she was genuinely interested. She projected her will, imagining herself soaring into the vast blue sky. She managed to impress the broomstick at her feet.
"Up."
At the third command, the broomstick flew into Hermione's hand. It wasn't instant, but it worked.
Hermione gripped it. It was a bit heavy, the wood polished smooth by generations of hands.
It definitely needs a cushion, she decided firmly. Equipping a bicycle pad is imminent!