As Fred vanished around the corridor's corner, Harry pushed the brief interruption out of his mind and went back to coaching Hermione on her Disarming Charm.
"No, Hermione, loosen your wrist a bit," Harry said, standing a few steps away, frowning at her rigid arm. "You look like you're about to chop wood, not cast a spell."
Hermione stubbornly held up the pamphlet Lockhart had handed out, her finger tracing the bolded text. "The book says, 'Keep the wand tip level with your shoulder, and stress the third syllable of the incantation.' I'm following it exactly."
Taking a deep breath, she swept her wand in a textbook-perfect arc. "*Expelliarmus!*"
A faint red spell floated lazily toward Harry's wand.
He sidestepped casually, and the charm sailed past him.
Hermione's cheeks flushed red. She slapped the pamphlet against her knee. "What's wrong? I did exactly what the book said!"
Harry snatched the pamphlet from her and tucked it into his pocket. "Books give you the basics, but in a real duel, you need to channel your magic with intent." He spun his wand in a fluid motion, firing a spell that knocked Hermione's wand from her hand.
Picking it up and handing it back, he said, "It's like doing homework—you focus your mind. Casting a spell is the same. Pour your will into it."
"But the book doesn't mention that," Hermione shot back, gripping her wand so tightly her knuckles whitened. "Maybe my pronunciation's off? *Ex-pel-li-AR-mus!*"
This time, the spell came faster but aimed straight at Harry's knees.
He dodged nimbly. "Are you trying to trip me or disarm me? Lockhart's pamphlets are outdated. The power comes from your wrist, not your whole arm."
Hermione shook her head, her curly brown hair bouncing. "The steps are crystal clear in the book. I just need more practice." She stepped back, striking the same rigid pose, like a wound-up puppet. "*Expelliarmus!*"
The spell was still weak, and Harry dodged it easily.
Frustrated, Hermione tossed her wand into the air and caught it, her eyes glistening with tears. "Why can't I get this right…?"
Harry shook his head, setting up a practice mat and securing it in place. He stepped forward, gently adjusting her wrist. "You're too hung up on what the book says."
"When you're thinking 'I have to follow the book,' your focus splits," he said, guiding her hand through a smooth flick. "Try thinking, 'I'm going to knock his wand away.' Let your intent drive the spell."
Hermione, distracted by the warmth of Harry's hand, barely registered his words.
"Oi, try it!" Harry prompted.
Snapping out of it, she pointed her wand halfheartedly. "*Expelliarmus!*"
The spell was as feeble as before, barely nudging the mat.
"Are you doing this on purpose?" Hermione yelped, pulling away from Harry's grip. "You're definitely doing this on purpose!"
"What are you on about?" Harry's green eyes blinked in confusion. "I'm just fixing your technique."
"Oh, now you get it," Harry said, realization dawning with a grin.
"Shut up!" Hermione snapped, flustered.
Just then, a loud crash of furniture echoed from the distance, mixed with angry shouts.
Harry flicked his wand, casting a Levitation Charm to hoist the practice mat into the air. He hopped onto it, squinting toward the commotion. "It's Wood and Flint going at it. And Lockhart's over there egging them on."
Flint's gravelly voice cut through the noise. "Gemma Farley's been engaged to me for ages, you filthy sewer rat—argh!"
Hermione's head snapped up, her curls bouncing. "Gemma Farley's engaged to Flint?" She knew the haughty Slytherin prefect from the library. It was hard to imagine her with Flint, the human gorilla everyone mocked.
"You believe that nonsense?" Harry rolled his eyes, jumping off the mat. "She's always lingering by the Quidditch pitch during practice. I've seen her and Wood snogging in the broom shed."
"But a Slytherin with a Gryffindor?" Hermione gasped, covering her mouth. "I mean, Wood liking a Slytherin? That's shocking."
Harry patted her fluffy hair. "Didn't you say Farley helped you with homework in the library? That's because Wood's been training like a maniac to win the Quidditch Cup, so she's buttering you up."
"She was being nice because of Wood?" Hermione swatted his hand away, piecing it together. "I did mention you're Gryffindor's Seeker. That's ridiculous!"
"That's Slytherin logic for you," Harry said, releasing the Levitation Charm on the mat. "Especially Farley—she's as Slytherin as they come. Probably thinks it'll help Wood's game."
More shouts rang out as Wood and Flint's fight continued.
"Is Flint just stirring trouble?" Hermione frowned, twisting her wand nervously. "Should we check it out? What if something happens—"
"You're not a prefect yet, so stop worrying," Harry teased, nodding toward a flash of blue robes. "Besides, Professor Flitwick's already there. Think we're needed?"
Hermione wasn't convinced. She stared at Harry's back, then leapt onto it, her knee jabbing his side. "Less talk, give me a boost! I want to see for myself!"
Caught off guard, Harry stumbled forward, his hand instinctively landing on Hermione's thigh for balance. It felt firm, like leather-wrapped springs. All that walking to the library must pay off, he thought absently.
Feeling his grip tighten, Hermione flinched as if burned, her ears turning scarlet. She hopped down, stammering, "You—!"
"What? You said you wanted to see," Harry said, unfazed, waving his wand to levitate the mat again. "This is easier, isn't it?"
Hermione stood frozen, her blush lingering for a full three minutes.
Just as she moved on, Harry rubbed his chin and mused, "Didn't expect you to be so skinny but have such toned legs."
That did it. Hermione's temper flared. She chased Harry around the Great Hall, wand blazing, as he dodged her spells. Wood and Flint's drama was long forgotten.
When Harry sidestepped a perfectly aimed Expelliarmus, he clapped. "There you go! See, you can do it!"
Hermione stared at her trembling fingertips, stunned. That spell had been hers.
Her shock turned to suspicion. "Harry, you said Dumbledore hasn't taught you combat tricks yet. Where'd you learn this stuff?"
"I don't know," Harry said, scratching his dark hair. "It's like when I hold my wand, images just pop into my head, like they've always been there."
Before Hogwarts, those images were fuzzy, like looking through frosted glass. But since starting proper magical training, they'd grown sharper—wand angles, incantation stresses, even the intent behind them.
"Maybe it's some inborn talent," Harry suggested. "Like natural Metamorphmagi or Legilimens. If a Philosopher's Stone can exist, why not this?"
Hermione, despite her bookish knowledge, was still a Muggle-born witch, unfamiliar with the wizarding world's deeper truths. She didn't press further, her eyes sparkling as she grabbed his sleeve. "Last time you were in the Forbidden Forest building Hagrid's cave, can–
you teach me that cutting spell?"
Before Harry could answer, a deafening wave of screams erupted from the other end of the castle, like a flock of owls crashing into glass.
Hermione instinctively jumped onto Harry's back again. Neither mentioned the Levitation Charm.
"It's Ginny! Malfoy's chasing her with spells!" Hermione said, hoisting herself up on Harry's shoulders to see better. "Percy's there—his face looks awful. Wait, why's he staring at Ron like he's been Petrified?"
Harry felt eyes on him and whipped around, catching Snape lurking in the corridor's shadows, his dark gaze like a poisoned dagger. But when Harry met his eyes, Snape looked away.
"Ow!" Hermione yelped, slumping down. "Harry, stand still!"
"Sorry," Harry muttered, leaning forward to make it easier for her to balance. His eyes stayed on Snape.
A Slytherin student ran up, whispering something to Snape, who then strode toward Malfoy's direction.
Harry turned back. "Hermione, what's happening?"
"It's bad!" she shouted, squinting. "Snape's there now, and Professor Flitwick looks furious."
Suddenly, Fred and George burst into the Great Hall like they were fleeing a dragon. "Angelina's been Petrified, right outside in the corridor!" Fred yelled, panicked.
A white blur shot through the wall and vanished. Snape bolted out of the hall, disappearing into the darkness.
Panic spread like ink in water, rippling through the crowd.
Hermione slid off Harry's back, her voice trembling. "Everyone knows now. What if Hogwarts shuts down—"
"Don't worry," Harry said, taking her cold hand. "Trust Dumbledore. He's the greatest wizard of our time."
As if on cue, Dumbledore appeared with a flash of phoenix flames—the white blur had been Fawkes, fetching him. He cast a Sonorus Charm, his voice booming but calm. "Everyone, stay in the Great Hall. Prefects, maintain order. I've alerted the Heads of Houses."
Soon, Snape returned with Professors McGonagall and Sprout. Snape gave a subtle shake of his head to Dumbledore, who promptly left the hall.
"Slytherins, over here," Snape barked. "Prefects, count heads so we don't have another fool like Wood." He left again, likely to fetch Pansy from the Slytherin common room.
Flitwick whispered something to McGonagall, whose face darkened. Even from a distance, Harry could see her grim expression.
Just then, Wood and Gemma Farley strolled in, her arm linked with his, both flushed and smiling.
McGonagall's temper exploded, her eyes narrowing like a cat's under her pointed hat. "Flirting at a time like this? Making the professors worry? You're absolutely—"
"Minerva," Dumbledore interrupted, his voice gentle but firm. He'd returned unnoticed, his blue eyes glinting behind half-moon glasses. "Please notify Jensen's family. Use the same explanation as before."
McGonagall shot Wood a few more sharp words before storming off to contact Angelina's relatives.
Dumbledore waved his wand, making the practice mats vanish and conjuring hundreds of colorful sleeping bags. "As a precaution, everyone will sleep here tonight. Filius, arrange the night watch."
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