"...Hermione, why did you call me here?"
Stuffing the scattered textbooks back into his bag, Harry's tone wasn't too pleasant—
It had been nearly a month since the attack, and a week since that terrifying Quidditch match. Although Lockhart had directly "pulled" out all the bones in his arm, Ms. Pomfrey's Bone Regeneration Potion got him out of the hospital wing the next day.
But that feeling...
In short, Harry had briefly replaced his most hated professor with Lockhart in his heart.
Of course, this ranking only lasted until half an hour ago—because he had just finished a Potions class. In comparison... hmm, that old bat was obviously still more aggravating. And recently, a rumor had surfaced from who-knows-where, saying that Professor Snape was actually a Half-Blood Wizard, and some little wizards even suspected Snape of being the heir to the Secret Chamber and bowed to apologize to him in person...
Harry vaguely remembered Snape's expression at the time; if looks could kill, the great hall would probably have been filled with corpses.
For the next two weeks, the old bat's expression never improved. For instance, in the just-ended second-year Potions class, he scolded six little wizards in a row, and naturally, Harry was not ignored either. That half-cooked Swelling Potion of his was completely dumped into the trash by Snape.
During this period, Hermione seemed to have her own matters to attend to. Every time Harry ran into her in the Gryffindor Common Room, they just exchanged a brief greeting before she would turn around and leave the common room, hugging a thick tome.
With Ron petrified in the hospital wing and Hermione busy with who-knows-what, Harry suddenly realized he didn't even have a speaking friend left.
Couple that with Lockhart's and Snape's alternating "torment," his mood recently was abysmal.
This morning, Hermione, who had disappeared for quite a while, suddenly showed up, telling Harry to meet after school in the afternoon—"I thought we had broken up?" Looking at Hermione's vanishing figure, he barely had time to say "okay" before he muttered to himself.
After Potions class, Harry finally saw the late-arriving Hermione fifteen minutes past the appointed time.
"Phew... sorry, I mistook the time..."
The girl leaned against the hallway pillar, gasping for air. Her fluffy hair seemed a bit neglected during this period, almost twisted into a tangled mess atop her head. As usual, her arms were cradling two hefty books. Judging by her bag slung behind her, it might have been more than just a couple.
"'Powerful Potions'?" Harry helped her with the stack of books, eyeing the top one with its moldy cover curiously flipping through it—then immediately closed it back up. Heaven knows what he had just seen...
A witch with eight arms on her head?
"This is..."
"Shh, I borrowed this from the Forbidden Book Area last week—" Hermione quickly gestured for silence. Leading Harry down the stairs, she continued in a lowered voice, "I got Lockhart's signature, but unfortunately, Madam Pince wouldn't let me keep it..."
"...If it's Lockhart, you probably just need to leave a blank piece of paper on his desk." Harry smirked, obviously unimpressed. "In under ten minutes, he would fill it with his name. So, have you been busy getting Lockhart's autograph all this time?" Harry's tone was a bit sharp, clearly peeved at Hermione for neglecting him lately.
"Of course not!" Hermione looked astounded, as if wondering why Harry would ask such a thing, "Remember the night of Halloween?" She pointed to the hallway not far in front of them. It turned out they had already reached the corridor where Ron and Filch were attacked.
"I remember, it was right here—"
Harry stopped walking, looking up toward the top of the stairs—at that time, Ron and Filch were wrestling at the end of the staircase. He and Hermione had just turned the corner following the noise and saw them both petrified on the spot.
At this moment, looking again, Harry noticed a small figure crouched at the top of the stairs.
"Meow—"
Mrs. Loris?
Seeing the sleek, gray cat, Harry incredulously rubbed his eyes, but that raspy voice, like claws scratching glass, confirmed the cat's identity.
After all, even if it was a bit plumper, the only large gray cat in the castle was Mrs. Loris.
"I often see it here."
Hermione stepped forward, stroking Mrs. Loris's head under her wary gaze. To Harry's shock, Mrs. Loris didn't dodge as usual, though she didn't lean into Hermione's palm either. This was unbelievable compared to before.
"Squeak..."
A curious, short cry came from under Mrs. Loris. Next moment, a black Niffler peeked out from her gray fur, its pink snout sniffing around before locking on Hermione.
"...Uh, hello?" Hermione greeted, surprised, "Where did this Niffler come from?" She hadn't seen it before.
"That's William's Niffler, named Kabuda, Ginny brought it into the common room—" Harry stepped forward, reaching out to touch Kabuda's head, only to have it swatted down by a cat's paw.
"Huff..." A low, threatening growl rumbled in Mrs. Loris's throat.
"Oh, the two of them get along well—" Watching the Niffler struggle to finally climb onto the cat's head, Hermione remarked happily. She had always liked cats, and this Niffler didn't seem like a "vicious" creature.
"...So, Hermione, why did you bring me here?"
Harry rubbed at the scratch on his hand (Mrs. Loris had no habit of retracting her claws), feeling even more annoyed. He asked irritably, "If it's just to see a cat, I'm not interested, I've got Quidditch practice tomorrow morning..."
"Hold on, I've been working on this—"
Hermione diverted her attention from Mrs. Loris, rummaging through her bag and then pulling out a large water jug filled with water. She stood on the stairs, posing in a manner incredibly familiar to Harry—
It was the same stance when Ron was attacked; Harry remembered it clearly from that sleepless night in the hospital wing.
"What do you mean?"
"Harry, stand up." Hermione shook her head playfully, signaling for Harry to stand opposite her, "Grab my arm, like how Filch grabbed Ron."
"And then?" Harry did as asked, though he frowned, "But what's the point?"
"And then..."
Hermione didn't answer; she opened the jug and poured it at their feet—
"Hey, what do you mean by this..."
Harry hadn't finished his question when he seemed to realize something, looking up. By the light from the torches on the wall, he clearly saw a regular-shaped hole appear in the impenetrable bricks of Hogwarts Castle—
"You mean..." He subconsciously looked at Hermione.
"Click—"
The sound of a camera shutter went off, Colin Creevey peeking from behind his camera, looking at the two entwined individuals, "Hey, Harry, are you two dating?"