Chapter 85 – Hermione's Secret?
Alexander, who had effortlessly saved Ron, received Ron's heartfelt thanks and an awkward glance from Harry.
Nearby, Seamus was questioning Nearly Headless Nick about why the Bloody Baron was covered in blood.
Nick replied solemnly that he didn't know and had never asked. This vague answer disappointed Harry, Ron, and even Hermione, who had all been listening intently.
Not far away, the elegant ghost known as the Grey Lady—Ms. Helena Ravenclaw—floated out of the Great Hall, her face still as cold and aloof as ever.
Alexander couldn't help but sigh inwardly at Voldemort's terrifying charisma. As a student, Voldemort had somehow managed to break through the emotional armor of this proud, thousand-year-old ghost using nothing but his handsome face and eloquent persuasion. Even now, when recalling the past, the Grey Lady would speak in a stammer, like a girl swept away by a crush:
"I… I don't know… he… he was very charming. He seemed… understanding… sympathetic…"
Alexander couldn't help but think: The Baron probably turned green with jealousy in that moment.
In Alexander's eyes, Voldemort's magical talents were far less dangerous than his looks and eloquence. If Voldemort hadn't abandoned his humanity, he might have become one of the most charming and influential wizards in history—perhaps even the Minister for Magic. But in the end, he chose to become neither man nor ghost, losing even his mind along the way.
As the meal continued and everyone was almost full, Hermione began to chat with Alexander—intentionally or not. She deliberately steered the conversation toward the topic of Transfiguration.
Alexander's eyes narrowed slightly in realization. A flash of insight crossed his mind. In the original timeline, this scene mirrored a moment from The Goblet of Fire—the very chapter where Hermione and Percy discussed Transfiguration, nearly word-for-word.
Within his mental "memory palace," the book Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire automatically flipped to the relevant passage:
> "She didn't do anything – she just shouldn't have been in that place at that time!" Hermione snapped back at Percy, surprising him. Hermione and Percy had always been on good terms—better than anyone else, in fact.
Better than anyone else? Alexander mused.
The witches at Hogwarts were indeed precocious. Just like Ginny, who had fallen for Harry at first sight and gone nearly mad for him during their first year—only to end up nearly killed by Voldemort in the process.
Then what about Hermione? Had she developed feelings for Percy since her very first year? Hermione, who hadn't yet fallen in with Harry and Ron's chaos, was a strict rule-follower, devoted to her studies, and deeply respectful of authority—everything Percy embodied.
And wasn't it odd that Percy's owl was named Hermes, a name strikingly close to Hermione?
Even in Deathly Hallows, when Hermione was captured, the first name she used to disguise herself was Penelope—Percy's girlfriend.
So… did Hermione secretly like Percy all along?
"If Percy's a lolicon, what does that make Ron?"
Probably nothing much. They're just friends. Maybe a little fondness, nothing serious.
Alexander smirked to himself.
"Keeping a mortal mindset while hiding deeper truths really does make life more interesting," he murmured.
While musing over this, he accidentally brushed against Hermione's hand. Acting as though nothing happened, he gently pointed out that Transfiguration was difficult to master and best practiced with small objects—like turning a match into a needle.
Before Ron could take notice of the subtle exchange, dessert arrived just in time to distract him.
The leftover dishes vanished from the plates, which were now sparkling clean. Moments later, a new round of puddings appeared.
There were countless treats: ice cream in every flavor, apple pie, syrup sponge, chocolate cake, fried jam doughnuts, sherry trifle, strawberry jelly, and creamy rice pudding…
As the little wizards began chatting about their families, Ron continued stuffing himself with pudding.
Seamus shared how he was half-and-half—his mother a witch, his father a Muggle. He animatedly recounted the hilarious moment when his dad discovered the truth about his wife's identity, prompting peals of laughter from the group.
Meanwhile, Hermione asked Alexander about the finer details of the Levitation Charm. He reluctantly began guiding her hand motions—despite knowing she'd already tried this method countless times back in the Muggle world and had succeeded just fine.
Ron burst out laughing and started teasing Neville instead, having completely missed the quiet interaction between Alexander and Hermione. It seemed the moment Transfiguration or Charms came up, Ron's brain promptly shut off.
Nearby, Anthony Goldstein bragged to his Ravenclaw mates about how he personally knew Newt Scamander. He claimed Newt would never have been expelled if he'd gone to Ravenclaw instead of Hufflepuff. Ravenclaws, after all, were known for accepting eccentrics—Luna Lovegood being a prime example (if one ignored the times her shoes were mysteriously hidden).
Terry Boot and Michael Corner nodded in agreement.
"Goldstein, huh? That tracks," Alexander thought. "Newt's lover was Tina Goldstein, an American witch. Maybe they're distant relatives."
"The three of them really have the same weird chemistry."
He added internally: Terry Boot, dark-skinned. Michael Corner, black. Anthony, maybe American. If I were gay too, we'd be the ultimate diversity BUFF squad.
Neville mentioned being raised by his strict grandmother and casually shared how everyone once thought he was a Muggle-born. He spoke plainly of how his family nearly threw him out the window—several times—to awaken his magic. (The term Squib wasn't in common use yet; Harry himself wouldn't learn it until second year.)
Most of the group didn't seem overly surprised by Neville's story. Meanwhile, Alexander and Hermione were still deep in discussion about coursework.
But then—bam. He felt a chill creeping up his spine.
Penelope Clearwater! Alexander internally groaned. He feigned a yawn and expertly wrapped up his chat with Hermione. He turned to see Penelope staring daggers at him, her expression as icy as her name. Next to her, Kate smirked with amusement as she slowly savored her pudding.
"Great. No sleep for me tonight," Alexander thought, face blank. Even the monumental first meeting between Harry, Voldemort, and Snape now seemed like a forgettable footnote in comparison.
Harry groaned softly, clutching his forehead. Ron, still oblivious, was focused solely on dessert. Percy, seated at the next table, looked over with concern and gently asked Harry if he was feeling alright.
It was painfully clear—if Percy ever truly wanted to pursue Hermione, Ron wouldn't stand a chance. If Percy had been willing to open up and go on adventures, he might have even taken Harry's spot too.
Harry, meanwhile, quietly pointed to the greasy-haired professor with sallow skin and a hooked nose. He asked Percy in a whisper whether he knew anything about him.
Little did Harry know, the scar's pain came not from Snape—but from Professor Quirrell, sitting right beside him.
At last, as the final pudding disappeared from sight, the grand feast came to an end.
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