Hermione was, for the very first time in her life, regretting being a prefect.
"Ugh—why?" she groaned aloud, dragging her hands down her face in exasperation. Yes, she was proud of the badge. Yes, she was honored to be chosen, to know Professor McGonagall trusted her to guide and watch over the Gryffindors.
It showed that she was seen as responsible and dependable, a role model for the younger students, or at least that was how she liked to think about it. She pointedly ignored the nagging voice in her mind that said Ron, too, got chosen, despite not being responsible at all, he seemed to just enjoy slacking off, and, ever since Harry had told them about what he was now, Ron had started to drift away, slowly. He was still there, but not really there.
Anyways, while she liked the title and the responsibility, she was now annoyed that these very duties, her responsibilities, now got in her way.
Her best friend was no longer simply Harry Potter. He was a god-slayer, a Campione as they were called, and she was told that not much was known about them.
Hermione felt a little weird, a slight pang of guilt, as she felt she was taking advantage of Harry, but she wanted to be the first person to properly study what a Campione was in the wizarding world, to properly research them.
The thought thrilled her… and made her feel horribly guilty. She told herself it wasn't about using Harry, but about the unparalleled opportunity to advance magical knowledge, to chart a course for a new, unknown form of power. Her curiosity, a force as fundamental to her being as breathing, warred with her conscience.
That made her feel guilty, or at least it did before Harry told her he didn't really mind helping her discover what he could do, but he had told her straight that his Authorities were off-limits and that he was only going to be helping her with the basic abilities that all Campiones have.
She had tried to argue and outright pleaded with him, but he refused and told her that an Authority was an intimate part of one's soul and that he wasn't going to be telling anyone how they worked.
She had tried begging, arguing, and even bribing him, but he had refused every time, he was unyielding. Sure, he had told them he had this power and that power, but he had never gone into detail, as she now realized.
She had, at the end, settled for just the standard powers, though Harry did try to cheer her up by telling her that even if she knew his Authorities, they wouldn't really help any future Campione, as no two Campiones would ever have the same Authority.
Right now, they were once more trying to test just how fast his reflexes were. She was trying to document everything, so here they were in the Room of Requirement, another wonder that blew her mind when Harry told her about it. She kid you not, she had all but grabbed Harry by the collar and strangled him for keeping this room a secret.
Oh, the books she found, the knowledge here! The room had provided her with tomes on ancient runes that were thought to have been lost, books on the intricate history of dueling, and obscure knowledge on magical theory.
She had all but set up a bed in there, dreaming of a life surrounded by this knowledge. She sighed dreamily. If only she could live in there!
She then grumbled as her dreamy gaze turned to a glare at Harry. He had found her all but setting up a bed in there to move in and had chased her out. The git said that if he left her alone, she would forget to eat, go to class, or even sleep, which were all lies, of course.
She was totally not lying, no matter what Harry says.
She sighed and cleared her mind. All these things were really blowing her mind. She had been in the wizarding world for 5 years now, and to be honest, this year was the year that actually felt magical, apart from her first year, of course. When you are not running around avoiding getting killed, it helps you see more of your surroundings.
Back to Harry.
She watched as the enchanted mannequins fired spell after spell in rapid succession as Harry either dodged or blocked. She could hardly even follow. It had started slowly, but as the speed kept increasing, she had eventually lost track. She watched for a while, the quills on her parchment scratching desperately, her eyes darting to follow him as he was now little more than a blur.
A flurry of red and green curses flew at him, but Harry danced between them with preternatural ease, a ghost in motion. He didn't even seem to be trying, his movements fluid and effortless. She'd usually have pressed on, testing his endurance or reaction speed until he was begging for a break, but this time… she wanted to talk.
At last, she raised her hand. "Harry!"
The spells stopped. He appeared before her a heartbeat later. "What's wrong? Did something happen?" he asked, the confusion evident in his voice. He knew that his friend tried to always use the free time she had to ask questions and learn more about Campiones or magic that he had learned from the Mage Association books. He had given her the ones he was done with, and in typical Hermione fashion, she was devouring them all, so she always wanted to use the free time to learn. So it was confusing that she had wanted to stop when she still had time.
She shook her head and answered, "Nothing, I just… wanted to talk."
"About?" he said, raising an eyebrow. Talk? No, if she wanted to talk, she'd just talk, just ask him anything, so what was going on?
"Well, I heard a rumor," she said, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, "about a certain bespectacled Gryffindor and a certain Slytherin Ice Queen. Rumors that were said to have come straight from the Ice Queen's mouth, if the rumors are true, of course." She looked at him, staring right at him.
"Well," Harry said with a grin, "I did say I was interested, didn't I?" He and Daphne had gone on their first date, and he didn't think they had decided on if they were dating, hmmm, he'd have to ask her later. "So what's the problem? You already knew I was going on a date with her."
She nodded. "Yes, but I didn't think you guys had already started dating."
He just gave her a cocky smile as she looked at him. "Are you sure that you want to be with her?" she asked a little hesitantly. "I mean, I know I told Ron off, but she is a Slytherin for a reason, you know."
Harry just shook his head. "She is," he replied with a small smile, "but she's not bad, and I want to see where this goes."
She studied him for a moment, then exhaled in defeat. "Well… at least you're happy."
He smiled before a glint appeared in his eyes. "So enough about my love life, what about yours?"
That got her sputtering. "W-what? I—I—well… I don't know what you're talking about!" she stammered, her cheeks turning crimson.
"Ron, of course. I know you like him," he said. And he wondered why, to be honest, or at least he did, before he figured that it was because of their mismatched personalities that she liked him.
Hermione was someone who always wanted to be in charge, wanted to be the one in control, and with Ron, she had that. Yes, Ron was always stubborn, but with Hermione, he was like a horse with its leash, she was the one pulling him along. He doubted she even knew that was the reason she liked him.
"Well… I just… You know…" she tried to form words, flustered beyond belief.
He let out a laugh before cutting her off. "I get it, you don't have to explain."
She sighed and slumped, burying her face in her hands. "Is it that obvious?"
"No," Harry admitted, his expression softening. "But I know you. Better than most."
Silence stretched between them for a while, broken only by the rustle of parchment as Hermione fiddled with her notes. Then Harry leaned back, his eyes thoughtful, and then something that had crossed his mind came back.
"Hey, Hermione," he said suddenly. "What do you think would happen if you were put in charge of the Ministry one day?"
Her head snapped up. "What?"
"I mean it," Harry said seriously, his green eyes glittering. "If the Ministry was falling apart and they handed you the reins, how do you think you'd do?"
Hermione blinked at him, startled. Something in the way he looked at her made her feel that her answer mattered. Like he wasn't just saying it for shits and giggles. She opened her mouth as she thought of what she would do.
Meanwhile, elsewhere in the castle.
Ron Weasley wandered the halls with a troubled frown.
Everything was changing. Harry was different now, powerful, almost untouchable. Once again, he was the one who got it all. He shook his head, 'No, don't think like that. '
Hermione was caught up in her studies and her prefect duties, always in a hurry or with her head buried in a book he didn't understand. And Ron… Ron was scared. Scared they'd leave him behind. It was a familiar, painful feeling he had thought he had finally buried.
He felt useless, a third wheel, just there to fill a space. The great Harry Potter, the hero, and the brilliant Hermione Granger, and then there was him, just Ron. His brothers were all successful, his parents were well-respected, and yet he still felt like a spare part.
It was in this unsettled mood that he ran into the Headmaster.
"Professor Dumbledore!" Ron said quickly, straightening.
"Ah, Ronald, just the young man I hoped to see." Dumbledore's blue eyes twinkled, though there was a sharpness behind them. Ron didn't seem to notice. "Tell me, have you seen Harry recently?"
Ron shook his head. "No, sir. Haven't seen him all day."
"That is… unfortunate," Dumbledore said with a sigh. "I wished to speak with him on a matter of great importance. You see, Voldemort grows bolder, and we need every advantage we can gather." His eyes softened as he leaned closer, his voice dropping to a confidential whisper. "Harry possesses something that might aid us. His father's cloak. The Invisibility Cloak. So I was hoping to ask for it, to help the order gather intel on Lord Voldemort."
Ron blinked. "The cloak? But—"
"I would, of course, return it," Dumbledore added smoothly. "But for the moment, it would greatly help our efforts to protect the school. Since Harry is not available, perhaps you could… fetch it for me?"
Ron hesitated for only a moment before nodding. "Yes, sir. I know where he keeps it. I'll get it right away." He felt a thrill of pride, a genuine warmth spreading through his chest. He was helping. He was important again.
"Splendid," Dumbledore said warmly, his smile widening. "You're doing a great service, Ronald. A great service indeed."
As Ron hurried off, Dumbledore's eyes followed him, the twinkle in them replaced by a cold glint of calculation. The boy was an emotional, simple creature, easily manipulated.
A well-placed bit of flattery, a simple request that made him feel useful, and he would do anything.
It was a shame, really, that such a powerful artifact was in the hands of a boy, a boy he could no longer truly control. The cloak, the last of the Hallows, he would get it and put it to use for the greater good. He would use it to help his war against Voldemort, and nothing would stand in his way.
————————————————————
If you want to read ahead and access 15 advanced chapters, check the patreon. $4 Dollars
Link:patreon/Phantomking785