Time flew by, and before anyone realized it, June had arrived—the season of Hogwarts' final exams.
As the young wizards poured out of the examination halls, their expressions were a colorful mix. Some were brimming with confidence, others hung their heads in dejection, and a few wore looks of utter despair.
Harry and Draco, after exiting their final exam, exchanged a glance—and with surprising tacit understanding, both went straight to Arthur.
Arthur looked at the two of them and asked, "So? What is it this time?"
"You forgot?" they said in unison. "We're supposed to duel."
"…If you want to duel, then go duel. You're not fighting me—why come looking for me?"
"You're our witness," they replied again in perfect sync. "How can our duel happen without you present?"
"Hold on. Since when did I become your duel witness?"
Arthur was completely baffled. He had zero recollection of this. And the way these two spoke in unison made it sound less like witness and more like officiant.
"Wasn't it under your supervision that we agreed on the once-a-year duel?" Harry said.
Arthur rolled his eyes. "I just helped set things up. How did that turn me into your witness?"
"Either way, the agreement was made with you there," Draco said. "If you don't come, it just feels… incomplete."
"…Fine, fine. I'll watch your duel," Arthur conceded. "Anything else?"
Seeing him agree, both of them immediately broke into smiles.
Draco suddenly remembered something.
"Oh right, Arthur—can we borrow your place? I want a quieter dueling environment."
He was referring to the Zen Garden. This was their once-a-year formal duel, and Draco didn't want interruptions. He wanted to take it seriously, not like before—surrounded by spectators, unable to go all out.
"No need," Arthur replied. "If you want somewhere quiet, Hogwarts already has the perfect place. When are you dueling?"
He was, of course, referring to the Room of Requirement. It was more than enough for the two of them—there was no need to use the Zen Garden.
"Not sure yet," Draco said, turning to Harry. "Tonight?"
"I'm fine with that," Harry answered.
Arthur was speechless.
"So you two hadn't even set a time yet?"
"Alright. Tonight at ten. Eighth floor."
With Arthur setting the time, neither Harry nor Draco had any objections.
That Night — Eighth Floor, Hogwarts
Arthur arrived first, Hermione-the-cat cradled in his arms.
Ranni hadn't come along—she had no interest in children fighting. She preferred staying in the Zen Garden, playing with Ifrit. The little dragon's obedient, adorable nature had thoroughly won her over.
Hermione rarely got time alone with Arthur, so she'd transformed into her Animagus form, curling up contentedly in her cousin's arms like she used to.
Not long after, Draco arrived. He glanced around but didn't see Harry.
He scoffed. "Where's Potter? Don't tell me he chickened out."
Arthur suppressed a laugh.
"Ahem, Draco. I suggest that when you talk behind someone's back, you first make sure they're not actually standing right there."
Arthur looked past Draco.
Draco turned around—and two floating heads suddenly appeared out of thin air.
He yelped and stumbled backward several steps.
Harry and Ron laughed as they pulled off the Invisibility Cloak.
Unfortunately for them, there's a saying: the higher the joy, the harder the fall.
Just as they were laughing, two hands landed—one on each of their shoulders.
"What's so funny?" came Snape's cold, eerie voice from behind them. "Care to share?"
Their smiles froze solid.
Stiffly, Harry and Ron turned around, their expressions worse than crying.
"P-Professor Snape… why are you here?"
"Isn't that my question to ask?" Snape said darkly. "It's after curfew. You're violating school rules."
Both of them shrank under his pressure, not daring to speak.
"That's enough, Professor," Arthur stepped in. "If you keep scaring them, Draco can win tonight without fighting."
Snape paused, then withdrew his menacing aura.
Harry blinked. "What's going on?"
"I invited Professor Snape," Arthur explained. "He's Draco's godfather. It would be strange if he weren't present."
Arthur hadn't expected Snape to indulge in such a prank either. Wherever that bad habit came from—it definitely wasn't from him.
Realizing Snape wasn't here to arrest them for sneaking out, Harry and Ron both breathed a sigh of relief.
"Well then," Arthur said, "since everyone's here, let's go in."
He walked to the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy Being Beaten by Trolls, paced back and forth three times, and silently thought:
I need a room for a duel.
A doorknob appeared.
Arthur opened the door and led everyone inside the Room of Requirement.
Seeing their stunned expressions, Arthur explained,
"This is the Room of Requirement. Walk past that tapestry three times while focusing on what you need, and it'll appear."
Only Hermione—still in Arthur's arms—was completely unsurprised. She'd been here with her cousin back in first year to practice magic. Later, once Arthur had the Zen Garden, they stopped coming.
Now that she was back, a wave of nostalgia washed over her.
Back then, it had been just the two of them—she practicing spells on wooden dummies, Arthur reading nearby, occasionally sparring with her.
Those days felt so peaceful.
Not like now—when her cousin was constantly monopolized by his fiancée, leaving Hermione precious little time alone with him.
Thinking that, she gently rubbed her fluffy head against Arthur's chest. Even if this wasn't truly "alone time," being held like this still made her happy.
Unfortunately, some people had a talent for ruining the mood.
Ron leaned over to Harry and muttered,
"Good thing Hermione didn't come tonight. Otherwise she'd probably start seriously researching how this room works. Honestly, I can't stand how nitpicky she is—every time I borrow homework, she lectures me for ages."
He went on complaining—completely unaware that Harry was looking at him with pure pity.
After rambling for a while, Ron finally noticed.
"…What?"
"Nothing," Harry said calmly. "Just thought Arthur said something very wise earlier—when talking bad about someone, make sure they're not actually present."
As he spoke, Harry quietly took a few steps away from Ron.
Hermione, after Arthur's enhancements, was already at an elite professor's level. Her mental strength was top-tier—even Ron whispering wouldn't escape her notice.
And right now, she was a cat.
Cats had hearing at least three times sharper than humans.
A dragon-blood-enhanced magic cat, no less.
She'd heard every word.
"Oh?" Hermione's voice sounded from behind Ron. "So you have that many complaints about me?"
Ron turned his head slowly, staring in horror at the ragdoll cat in Arthur's arms.
Everything suddenly made sense.
Normally, Hermione was inseparable from Arthur. Yet tonight, Arthur hadn't brought her—only a strange, beautiful cat.
He knew Arthur owned a cat, but that one was an ugly ginger Garfield—at least in Ron's opinion. Definitely not this elegant creature.
It finally hit him.
The cat… was Hermione.
His face twisted into that familiar expression—worse than crying.
"H-Hi, Hermione. So… you were here all along?"
"Yes," she replied coldly. "Apparently, someone really doesn't like me. Maybe I shouldn't have come?"
"N-No, of course not! I was just talking nonsense! Please don't take it seriously!"
Ron swallowed hard, cold sweat pouring down his back.
"Don't worry," Hermione said sweetly. "I didn't take it to heart. I'll just… put you in the air."
She raised a cute little paw, pointed at Ron, and chanted:
"Levicorpus!"
"Langlock!"
In an instant, Ron was hanging upside down like a roast duck, completely deprived of speech.
Harry and Draco exchanged a look, then nodded in unison.
One thought echoed in both their minds:
Never. Ever. Provoke Hermione.
Draco, in particular, felt a surge of gratitude toward his younger self.
Back when he was arrogant and ignorant, he'd looked down on Muggle-borns like Hermione—but he knew Arthur wasn't someone to mess with, so he'd never openly insulted her.
Otherwise, he might've been hanging there two years ago—long before Ron.
"Alright," Hermione said, turning to Harry and Draco.
"You two may begin your duel now."
They didn't need telling twice and hurried off to prepare.
As for Ron?
He could hang there for a while.
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