It was late, and usually by this time Harry and Ron would already be sound asleep in their beds. But tonight, miraculously, neither of them felt the least bit tired.
They looked as if they had downed ten potions of stimulation, their four eyes wide in the darkness like pairs of glowing bulbs, staring intently up at the pitch-black ceiling.
"Are we… cursed?" Ron's voice broke the silence, his body stiff as though under a Petrificus Totalus, only his eyes still moving. "I feel like I've got enough energy to sit through ten History of Magic classes in a row right now!"
"It's probably Hermione's 'masterpiece'…" Harry said uncertainly. "This morning when we woke up, she seemed to have cast a spell on us… muttering something like… Sleep Evaporation?"
"Yeah, mate. What's with your presence of mind?" Ron asked, bewildered. "That's the spell Professor Greengrass gave us. I even praised her and asked how much she had mastered that spell. But I didn't think it would be this powerful.."
"I was thinking about the gifts I'll get.. ugh.. No wonder she said, 'You'll know tonight,'" Harry muttered bitterly. "What do we do now? We've got to do something, right?"
Ron suddenly sat straight up in bed, his movements unusually quick. "Let's play a game of wizard chess!"
And so, at half past one in the morning, the Gryffindor common room hosted two unusually energetic chess players.
The dying embers of the fireplace gave off only a faint glow, casting light on two wide-awake faces, their eyes gleaming.
The chess pieces hacked at one another with great enthusiasm, their battle cries particularly jarring in the silence, as though waging a miniature war brimming with plastic hatred.
When Hermione came into the common room, carrying her newly acquired Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection, this was the sight she encountered: her two companions excitedly commanding a mob of miniature chess pieces to "slaughter" each other, their faces flushed and spirits high.
A surge of anger shot straight to Hermione's head, making her bushy hair seem to frizz out with static.
She marched over, her finger nearly jabbing their noses. "Professor Greengrass taught us spells for this?! For you two to hold a midnight chess championship in the common room at half past one, like trolls under a Confundo?!"
"I thought you two would've learned something after everything that's happened. But what? Your grand progress is playing chess in the middle of the night?"
"Uh… calm down, Hermione!" Ron's face twisted into a smile equal parts flattery and guilt, his hands rubbing together nervously in front of him. "We were… verifying the spell's effect… Yes! That's it, verifying the spell's effect! And we were also waiting for you!"
He hurriedly added, widening his eyes as much as possible to look "sincere." "After all, you're the top of the year, a beacon of wisdom! Unlike us, two poor souls who can't even hold a wand steady. We don't even know where to start learning."
"That's right, Hermione," Harry jumped in, nodding repeatedly, trying to make his green eyes look innocent and earnest. "We've reflected deeply, and in the ocean of knowledge, you are our lifeboat… or at least a map? In short, we urgently need your guidance!"
Even as the words left his mouth, Harry himself felt sickened by such shameless flattery.
"What's a lifeboat?" Ron muttered under his breath, but Harry silenced him with a quick glare, and both of them instantly shut their mouths.
"Really?" Hermione crossed her arms, her eyes narrowing with open suspicion.
"Absolutely!" Ron slapped his chest suddenly, nearly choking himself, his tone as solemn as if he were swearing before Merlin's tomb. "I guarantee it on Headmaster Dumbledore's shining, silvery character—if there's a single lie, then let me… no! Let Scabbers die an unnatural death!"
"What does this have to do with Scabbers?" Even Harry thought Ron's oath was utterly ridiculous.
"What about you, Harry?" Hermione's icy gaze turned on him.
"Me?" Harry's brain raced, searching desperately for a less outrageous foothold beside the pit Ron had just dug.
In a sudden flash of inspiration—or perhaps sheer recklessness—he blurted out, "I… I guarantee it on Hagrid's honor, every word I said is true!"
After speaking, Harry silently apologized in his heart to the kind gamekeeper.
"Hmph!" Hermione's curls seemed to frizz out even more. "Professor Greengrass taught us these two spells so that we would have ample time to study! I hope you understand this immediately, right now, and thoroughly!"
She gave the two of them a stern, sweeping look.
"Of course, Hermione," Harry said quickly, seizing the chance to change the subject. "So, have you already learned it?"
"No!" The young witch shook her head firmly. "I've only mastered the Sleep Evaporation spell. Clear-Headed Requiem… it involves some knowledge of souls, and I must be very careful!"
"But I think the effect of one spell is already completely sufficient!" Ron, for once, spoke with genuine sincerity—and this time, it wasn't entirely flattery.
"The Professor must have his reasons for giving us two spells at once."
Hermione deftly pulled a parchment filled with spell notes from between the pages of her book. "Listen, starting tonight, within a week, we must thoroughly master these two spells!"
No sooner had she spoken than she whipped out her wand and pointed it directly at Ron. "You, sit properly!"
Ron seemed to be yanked by an invisible string, immediately shifting his position, at least managing to look as though he were sitting up straight.
And so, the Gryffindor common room soon echoed with the voices of a few young students practicing their incantations—some serious, some tentative, and some with a touch of helplessness…
…
Meanwhile, the Kestrel, flying aimlessly over Britain, was feeling disheartened.
She hadn't returned home for Christmas, and the Howler sent from her family had nearly blown the roof off her tent—her grandfather had scolded her bitterly for being idle, drifting around like a ghost all day.
In truth, she had secretly performed a divination, but the crystal ball's prophecy had been vague, only vaguely pointing in a direction.
She had followed that faint guidance for a long time, yet still hadn't discovered where the so-called "work" mentioned in the prophecy was meant to be.
—Until she saw the ancient castle blanketed in snow.
At that moment, Kestrel was so excited she nearly dropped from the sky. Without hesitation, she dove straight toward the castle, finally landing by the cold Black Lake.
On the shore stood an old man in silver robes with a long silver beard, as though he had already been waiting for her.
"Good evening, child," Dumbledore said kindly, his blue eyes twinkling with curiosity behind his half-moon spectacles. "Can you tell me what brings you to Hogwarts?"
"You're Dumbledore?!" Kestrel didn't answer his question, but instead cried out in surprise, her eyes widening. "Haha! So this really is Hogwarts? That's great!"
"I am indeed Albus Dumbledore. How did you find your way here?" the old man patiently repeated, his tone still calm. "And now, can you tell me your purpose?"
"Oh, dear! That's a long story!"
_______
o(*≧▽≦)ツ💫 Read up to 12+ chapters in advance on P@treon/DarkDevil1 👉 Get early access & exclusive perks!✨