bacchusnovels Chapter 304 The Strange Hermione
Chapter 304 The Strange Hermione
Chapter 304 The Strange Hermione (Part 2)
"Where did she go?" Ron asked curiously.
Harry also turned around and looked downstairs.
They were already at the top of the stairs, and other students were walking past them on their way to the auditorium for lunch.
"She was right behind us just now," Ron said, frowning, his voice filled with confusion.
Just then, Malfoy, accompanied by Crabbe and Goyle, passed by them.
He gave Harry a smug smile, then strode away.
"She's over there," Harry suddenly pointed to the stairs.
Hermione hurried upstairs, panting, one hand clutching her schoolbag tightly, the other seemingly stuffing something under her robes.
"How did you do this?" Ron asked, his face full of confusion.
"What's wrong?" Hermione asked, catching up with them.
"You were just behind us, how did you suddenly run to the bottom of the stairs?" Ron asked, looking suspicious.
"What?" Hermione paused, seemingly confused. "Oh—I went back to get something, oh no—..."
Her schoolbag suddenly ripped open, and several thick books almost fell out.
Harry wasn't surprised at all, because he had already noticed that his backpack was stuffed with at least a dozen large books.
"What are you doing bringing these books around?" Ron asked, his eyes wide.
"You know how many classes I have to take," Hermione explained breathlessly, her voice trembling with exhaustion. "Could you do me a favor and grab a few?"
"But—" Ron glanced at the cover of the book Hermione handed him and said, puzzled.
You don't have any of those classes today. You only have Defense Against the Dark Arts class this afternoon.
"Yeah, yeah," Hermione replied perfunctorily, continuing to try to stuff the books back into her bag.
"I really hope there'll be something good to eat at noon, I'm starving." Without waiting for a reply, she strode towards the Great Hall, leaving Harry and Ron looking at each other blankly.
Hermione hurried toward the Great Hall, her stomach growling with hunger, but her mind was still preoccupied with what had just happened.
Suddenly, her gaze caught sight of a familiar figure—the woman in the black cloak, quietly passing by on the other side of the corridor.
Hermione paused, her curiosity and unease rising again.
Who is this woman? Why is she at Hogwarts? And what's with that strange pocket watch she's holding?
After hesitating for a moment, Hermione decided to put aside her doubts and quietly followed them.
She tried to keep her distance and avoid being discovered, but she was also careful not to let the woman disappear from her sight.
The woman walked slowly, eventually heading straight for the second floor and entering Myrtle's bathroom. Hermione's heart raced, countless guesses flashing through her mind. She followed the woman's footsteps, slowly entering the bathroom. It was empty, eerily quiet, with only the soft sound of dripping water echoing around her.
Just as Hermione was about to step forward to ask what was wrong, she suddenly felt a chill on the back of her neck. She raised her hand to touch it, but everything went black and her legs went weak. With a wave of dizziness, Hermione collapsed heavily to the ground before she could utter a sound.
In her last moments before losing consciousness, Hermione vaguely heard the woman whisper, "Such a curious little girl."
When Ron and Harry arrived at the Great Hall, Hermione was surprisingly not there.
A little while later, Hermione swaggered into the Great Hall and sat down between Harry and Ron with a nonchalant smile on her face.
She quickly picked up the food in front of her and began to eat heartily, her movements much rougher than usual.
Harry and Ron exchanged a glance, somewhat surprised by Hermione's timing and sudden display of a voracious appetite.
Ron scratched his head and asked in a low voice, "Hermione, are you alright? I've never seen you this hungry before."
"Oh, I'm just—especially tired," Hermione replied indistinctly, her mouth full of roast chicken and pumpkin pie, without even looking up.
She ate very quickly, seemingly oblivious to the reactions around her.
Harry frowned, finding it a little strange.
Hermione is usually elegant and restrained, and has never wolfed down her food like this before.
Moreover, for some reason, he always felt that Hermione seemed to have grown a little bigger.
He meant...height.
Harry stared at Hermione for a moment, then finally couldn't help but ask, "Are you really alright? Should we go see the school nurse?"
"It's nothing, it's nothing!" Hermione replied quickly, her tone a little hurried. "It's just that today's classes were too tiring, and I need to replenish my energy." She gave a forced, relaxed smile and continued eating.
Although something felt off, Harry and Ron chose not to ask any further questions.
They knew Hermione had been busy with her studies, and perhaps she was just a little overwhelmed with exhaustion today.
"Alright, Hermione." Ron shrugged and picked up his food to eat. "But don't overwork yourself; you have Defense Against the Dark Arts class this afternoon."
Hermione nodded and continued to enjoy the food in front of her, feeling quite pleased with herself.
She glanced around discreetly, making sure no one suspected anything amiss, and a slight smile played on her lips.
When they rushed to Professor Lupin's first Defense Against the Dark Arts class, Professor Lupin had not yet arrived. The students sat down, took out their textbooks, quills, and parchment, and whispered among themselves as they waited.
At this moment, Professor Lu Ping finally entered the classroom, a faint smile on his face, carrying his tattered old box, which he gently placed on the podium. He was still wearing that long, flowing robe, but he looked much healthier than he had on the train, clearly because he had eaten a few good meals.
"Good afternoon," he said, his voice gentle yet firm. "Please put your textbooks back in your bags. Today we're having a practical lesson; all you need to bring is your magic wand."
Some of the students exchanged glances, their eyes filled with curiosity. They had never had a practical lesson in Defense Against the Dark Arts, except for the unforgettable sprite incident from last year—in which the previous teacher released a cage of sprites, causing chaos in the classroom.
"Alright," Professor Lu Ping said after everyone had put away their textbooks, "come with me."
Despite their doubts, the students were still intrigued and quickly stood up, following Professor Lupin out of the classroom. They walked along the empty corridor, rounded a corner, and suddenly saw Pippi Leigh hanging upside down in mid-air, stuffing chewing gum into a keyhole.
Peeves didn't notice Professor Lupin until he was two steps away. Then, wiggling his bent toes, he sang mischievously, "Lupin, you madman, you big idiot, Lupin, you madman, you big idiot!" Everyone instinctively looked at Professor Lupin, wondering how he would react. Unexpectedly, Professor Lupin remained smiling, completely unaffected by Peeves' mockery.
“If I were you, Peeves,” Professor Lupin said gently, “I would take the gum out of the keyhole, and Mr. Filch wouldn’t be able to come in and clean.”
Pipi Gui didn't take it seriously, spat and snorted, and continued to mess with the keyhole.
Professor Lupin sighed softly, drew his wand, and turned to the class, saying, "This is a very useful little spell. Please watch carefully."
He raised his wand to shoulder height, pointed it at Peeves, and whispered, "Vadishu!"
In an instant, the piece of chewing gum flew out of the keyhole like a bullet and pierced straight into Pipi Ghost's left nostril.
Mischievous Ghost suddenly somersaulted and flew away, cursing under his breath.
"Great job, sir!" Dean Thomas couldn't help but exclaim.
"Thank you, Dean." Professor Lupin smiled and put away his wand. "Let's continue."
.
The students looked at Professor Lu Ping with great respect and set off again. After passing through the second corridor, they arrived at the door of the faculty lounge.
Professor Lupin opened the door and said to them, "Come in."
The faculty lounge was a long room with wooden panels on all four walls and filled with mismatched old chairs. Only one teacher was inside—Professor Snape—who sat in a low armchair. As the students filed in, Snape turned around, his eyes cold and a mocking smirk playing on his lips.
"Don't close the door, Lupin." Snape stood up and strode to the door, his black robes billowing behind him. He said coldly, "I don't want to witness this."
Just as he was about to leave, he suddenly stopped and added coldly, "Perhaps no one has warned you, Lupin, but there's a guy in this class named Neville Longbottom. I suggest you don't assign him any complicated tasks unless Miss Granger is constantly telling him what to do."
Neville's face flushed red instantly, and Harry clenched his fists in anger.
He had had enough of Snape bullying Neville in class, and now Snape was mocking him like this in front of Lupin.
Professor Lupin raised an eyebrow and said calmly, "Actually, I was planning to have Neville help me with the first step of the teaching. I believe he will do an excellent job."
Neville's face turned even redder, and Snape's lips twitched, but he ultimately turned and left, slamming the door shut.
"Alright." Professor Lupin smiled and gestured for everyone to walk towards the other end of the room. There was an old wardrobe there, which the teachers usually used to store their spare robes. Professor Lupin walked over and stood next to the wardrobe. Suddenly, the wardrobe shook violently, making a loud thumping sound, as if something inside was struggling.
Seeing several classmates jump back in fright, Lupin remained calm and reassured them, "Don't worry, there's a Boggart inside."
Most of the students clearly didn't find this reassuring. Neville's face showed a look of fear, and he looked at Lupin with unease, while Seamus Finnigan stared intently at the clicking cabinet doorknob, his fingers digging tightly into his wand.
“Boggarts like dark and enclosed spaces,” Professor Lupin explained, his tone still gentle. “They might hide in a closet, under a bed, or in a cupboard under the sink. I’ve even met a Boggart who lived inside an old clock. This one was just moved in yesterday afternoon. I asked the headmaster to keep it specifically for your third-year practical classes.”
Lupin paused, scanning each student's face to make sure everyone was listening attentively.
"Now, the first question is—what is a Boggart?"
After a brief silence, the whole class quickly erupted in enthusiasm.
Almost every student excitedly raised their hand, eager to answer Professor Lu Ping's question.
Hermione raised her hand high, her face full of confidence; Ron was a beat slower, but he quickly followed; even Neville, who was not usually talkative, seemed to be infected by the atmosphere and raised his hand.
With the Wizard's card-killing ability, no one can forget Boggart.
After all, Boggart is a very tough opponent in The Witcher Killer.
Its mimicry ability has caused a lot of trouble for many young wizards.
Professor Lupin smiled and chose Hermione: "Alright, Miss Granger, you may speak."
Hermione sat up straight and answered without hesitation, "A Boggart is a shapeshifting magical creature. It doesn't have a fixed form; instead, it transforms into whatever the person it's facing is most afraid of."
"Very correct, five points for Gryffindor." Lupin nodded in approval, then looked around at the other students with satisfaction.
“So,” Lupin continued, “the Boggart’s power comes from fear; it can detect your deepest fears and bring them to light. But there’s some good news—do you know what it is?” He paused, his gaze falling on Ron.
Ron seized the opportunity and quickly said, "What Boggart fears is uncertainty! It can't decide what it wants to become, and if it's facing a group of people, it will feel confused because it doesn't know whose to choose."
“That’s right, Weasley!” Lupin added with a laugh. “So, when we face a Boggart, it’s best to face it with friends, because that way the Boggart won’t know what to become, and its power will be weakened.”
He then scanned the classroom, a faint smile on his face: "But most importantly, what is the key to defeating Boggart?"
"Make it funny!" Dean Thomas shouted, a smug grin on his face.
“Very correct, Thomas.” Lupin nodded. “When we imagine fear in a comical way, fear becomes ridiculous, and the Boggart loses its power. Next, I will teach you this spell—the ‘Funny Spell.’ You only need to remember that to make the Boggart funny, the spell is: ‘Funny Funny.’”
"Hilarious! Hilarious!" the whole class shouted in unison, their voices echoing through the classroom.
"Very good," Professor Lupin nodded, satisfied. "Excellent. But this is only the simplest part. The spell alone is not enough; your imagination is also needed to make it work. Now, Neville, it's your turn."
As Lupin spoke, the wardrobe shook violently once again, but Neville shook even more violently than the wardrobe itself.
He walked slowly forward, as if heading towards the gallows, his face pale.
"Very good, Neville," Professor Lupin said gently, his eyes full of encouragement. "Let's start with the most important thing:
What are you most afraid of?
Neville's lips trembled slightly, as if he wanted to say something, but no sound came out.
"I'm sorry, Neville, I didn't hear you." Professor Lupin remained kind, gently encouraging Neville, who looked around in alarm, as if searching for help. Then, he answered in a low voice, almost inaudibly, "Professor Snape."
A burst of light laughter filled the classroom, instantly enlivening the atmosphere. Neville forced a smile, seemingly embarrassed by his answer. Professor Lupin, however, didn't laugh; instead, he fell into a thoughtful silence.
"Professor Snape—hmm—" Lupin stroked his chin thoughtfully, then continued, "Neville,
I remember you lived with your grandmother, right?
"Yes, that's right," Neville answered nervously, looking somewhat bewildered. "But—I don't want Boggart to become like my grandmother."
"No, no, you misunderstand." Professor Lupin smiled and waved his hand, a glint of cunning in his eyes. "Actually, I wanted to know what kind of clothes your grandmother usually wears?"
Neville was clearly surprised, and paused for a moment, but still replied, "I heard she always wears a hat. A very tall hat, with a vulture specimen on it. She usually wears a long dress, usually green—and sometimes a fox fur scarf."
"Yes, and her handbag, right?" Professor Lupin continued to guide him.
"Yes, a large red handbag." Neville nodded, his expression gradually relaxing.
"Very good." Professor Lupin smiled encouragingly. "Now, Neville, I want you to be able to visualize your grandmother's outfit very clearly in your mind, to be able to see it, to be able to feel her aura."
Neville nodded, though still somewhat uneasy, he tried to concentrate.
"When the Boggart comes out of the closet, it will transform into Professor Snape," Lupin continued. "And all you have to do is raise your wand—like this—and shout 'Funny, funny!'—and imagine Professor Snape wearing your grandmother's clothes. The vulture hat, the green dress, and that red handbag."
Suddenly, the classroom erupted in laughter. The students couldn't help but whisper among themselves, imagining Snape looking comical in that outfit. Boggart, inside the wardrobe, seemed to sense the atmosphere as well.
The shaking became even more violent.
“If Neville succeeds,” Professor Lupin added with a smile, “Boggart will take turns paying attention to each of us. So now, please take some time to think about what you fear most and try to imagine how to make it funny and ridiculous.”
The classroom was silent, as if the air itself had frozen. Everyone was lost in their own thoughts, trying to confront their deepest fears.
Harry lowered his head, his brows furrowed, clearly deep in thought, while Hermione stood quietly to the side, her expression complex.
Her face looked very pale, as if she was suppressing some unspeakable emotion.
She bit her lip, her brows furrowed, her eyes darting around, her gaze sweeping across the classroom as if trying to find some answer on the faces of her classmates, but in the end she returned to her own inner turmoil.
What exactly is she afraid of?