As Gemma spoke, a trace of memory flashed in her eyes.
"When Salazar Slytherin established the house, his original intention was to cultivate the most talented wizards.
In the beginning, the qualities he valued most included resourcefulness, strong will, and respect for laws and regulations.
Though he was concerned about blood status even then, it hadn't reached the point of 'pure-bloods only.'
It was only as time passed, limited by the era, that he gradually began to despise students from Muggle families.
As his disagreements with the other three founders grew, he became increasingly extreme.
In the end, he completely rejected Muggle-born wizards, believing them to be untrustworthy."
Finishing her reminiscence, Gemma suddenly changed tack.
"Hermione, I think you're well aware of Professor Bathsheda Babbling's character, aren't you?"
Hermione nodded.
Bathsheda Babbling was a witch who taught Ancient Runes at Hogwarts.
Gemma smiled faintly.
"Professor Babbling graduated from Slytherin.
In fifth year, when I got stuck on my O.W.L. essay, I went to her for help. She patiently explained things to me for three hours.
When I was leaving, she even gave me an ancient text with her own annotations. She said, 'Talent shouldn't be trapped by prejudice.'"
Hearing this, Hermione's lips unconsciously curved slightly up.
Gemma was right—this behavior certainly matched that professor's character.
Though her lectures could feel rambling and verbose, she treated students with strong or weak foundations equally and was undoubtedly an excellent teacher.
But then she thought of Professor Snape's acidic words and the arrogant mockery of some Slytherin students.
Noticing Hermione's expression change, Gemma's voice became even gentler.
"Just as Gryffindor has produced impulsive wizards who made mistakes, and Ravenclaw has bookworms who get stuck in their own thinking...
Hermione, you can't deny an entire house because of a few bad apples, right?"
"But there are more and more people like Malfoy in Slytherin."
"Malfoy doesn't represent all of Slytherin, just as Peeves doesn't represent all of Hogwarts."
Gemma gently patted her hand, her tone carrying playful seriousness.
"I'll say it again—someone as smart as you should know it's wrong to label an entire group based on partial mistakes.
Doing that makes you no different from those who judge you by blood status.
Also, haven't you noticed that even Malfoy has changed recently?"
These words were like a small pebble creating ripples in Hermione's heart.
Before this, she had truly never considered this perspective.
She hated being defined by blood status, yet wasn't she defining all of Slytherin by arrogance and cruelty?
Moreover, since Malfoy had apologized to Harry and Colin, he really had changed.
She had observed Malfoy recently he'd been constantly stuck to Pansy Parkinson, seemingly quite infatuated.
"Of course, I'm not asking you to like them immediately."
Gemma, seeing her wavering, softened her tone further.
"I just hope you won't let prejudice make your world smaller and smaller. You love learning new knowledge so much—why not leave a little space to see the people beyond the labels?"
The light flickered on Hermione's face, and the defensive walls in her heart began melting like sugar soaked in warm water.
She admitted Gemma had a point, but the injustices she'd suffered were real.
Deep-rooted prejudices couldn't be eliminated in a moment.
After brief consideration, she decided to temporarily avoid this topic.
"Gemma, I understand what you mean. But those people's praise is actually somewhat exaggerated.
Much of the content—I can't remember it all."
As soon as the words left her mouth, she felt annoyed.
She'd always wanted to appear effortlessly capable, so why did she deflate under Gemma's gentle gaze?
"Not remembering everything is normal."
Gemma couldn't help but laugh softly, again using her own experience as an example.
"Let's talk about Ancient Runes again.
When I first encountered that course in third year, I stayed up for three consecutive days sleeping only four hours to rush an essay. What happened?
In Charms class, I copied the notation for a defensive charm as a cooking spell. Professor Flitwick teased me about it!"
Hermione couldn't help but smile, the tension in her eyes easing somewhat.
Gemma was a famous outstanding student at Hogwarts, on par with Penelope and Percy. If even she had such experiences, then her earlier worries were truly excessive.
Seeing this, Gemma struck while the iron was hot, glancing in Sherlock's direction before continuing.
"Remember what he said? The human brain is like a room full of books.
Though we can't build a memory palace for looking up information at will like he can,
if we force in more books than the room can hold, the most precious ones will end up on the floor gathering dust.
You're learning so much important knowledge—shouldn't you leave some space for it to stand firmly?"
Hermione said nothing.
She remembered that during the holiday when memorizing History of Magic, dates she'd known cold had gotten mixed up with another battle's timeline the moment she turned around.
At the time she'd just thought she was too tired. Now with Gemma's metaphor, she suddenly felt that state really was like the panic of an overstuffed room.
Thinking this, she couldn't help stealing another glance at Sherlock.
"I think you know very well that when he talks, it's like solving equations.
Always precise, yet lacking warmth."
Gemma suddenly leaned closer, her voice dropping even lower.
This gave Hermione a wonderful feeling—like she and Gemma were sisters sharing little secrets.
"But when he spoke like that just now, he's genuinely afraid you'll wear yourself out. So why do you think he specifically asked me to come?"
Hermione's head snapped up. Before she could speak, Gemma had already provided the answer.
"Facing complex cases, he can be logical and analytical, peeling away layers of fog to leave criminals with nowhere to hide.
But facing a proud and stubborn young girl, he still only knows the most direct methods.
And you happen to be like him—once you've set your mind on something, a dozen oxen couldn't pull you back."
Hearing Gemma mention Sherlock, Hermione's cheeks felt slightly warm, but a warmth she couldn't quite describe welled up in her heart.
She knew Sherlock almost never lied, so his concern was naturally genuine.
But, but—"But I still don't want to give up."
She raised her head to look at Gemma, her gaze carrying final stubbornness.
"Those courses are all very important. I've already given up Divination. I can't give up anything else. I'm afraid I won't keep up with his—everyone's pace."
"Are you afraid of not keeping up with everyone's pace, or afraid of not keeping up with his pace?"
Hermione stared at Gemma in shock.
She hadn't expected Gemma to speak so directly.
For a moment, she didn't know what to say.
However, since Gemma could say such things, she had naturally considered this carefully.
She did something Hermione never expected—reached out and ruffled her hair.
Hermione froze again.
Wait, are we that close now?
Gemma's movements were gentle, like handling fragile feathers.
"Hermione, true excellence is never about not giving up on anything. It's about choosing the few paths most suitable for yourself from thousands of options, then walking them steadily.
The stars in the sky don't dim because one shines less brightly. Rather, those stars trying desperately to squeeze out all their light are more likely to burn out prematurely.
Actually, there's something I've never told him."
She glanced toward Sherlock's direction, paused, then pulled a lemon candy from her pocket and pressed it into Hermione's hand.
"In third year, I was like you—I thought missing any class was failure.
Though my course schedule seemed more reasonable than yours, my abilities were far inferior to yours, so I was still exhausted.
Until Professor McGonagall found me. She told me I shouldn't be trapped by exhaustion.
So I tried dropping one interest group."
At this point, Gemma deliberately paused. When Hermione looked at her inquiringly, she smiled sweetly and continued.
"The result? After dropping that Transfiguration research group, I found I could actually practice Transfiguration more skillfully. Even my notes became neater than before."
Hermione clutched the cool candy, the wrapper rustling at her fingertips.
Gemma's words were like warm water, gradually washing over her taut heartstrings.
It wasn't that she hadn't thought of giving up, but the word "surrender" was simply too harsh for her.
Yet at this moment, looking at Gemma's gentle but firm eyes, she suddenly realized something.
Perhaps this wasn't surrender, but a smarter form of persistence.
"What you've always lacked isn't time in the true sense, but proper condition.
Like a spring—constantly compressed, it only loses elasticity. Releasing it appropriately lets it bounce higher.
If you truly want to stand beside him, doing this will only be counterproductive, pushing you further away from him."
Hermione looked down at the candy in her palm, lemon fragrance seeping through the wrapper.
She could feel the tightly strung defensive line in her heart quietly cracking open in Gemma's gentle yet powerful words.
The stubbornness remained. But the grievance compressed by exhaustion until she couldn't breathe—in this moment, it found an outlet.
Gemma's words could be said to have precisely hit Hermione's weak point.
She didn't accuse Hermione of being stubborn, but instead portrayed giving up as a higher-level strategic choice and manifestation of wisdom.
More importantly, she had guided Hermione's purpose in trying to prove herself.
Gemma was absolutely right—wanting to be worthy of the life he saved shouldn't look like this.
During this time, she'd only focused on academics, actually growing further from Sherlock.
This, while not exactly putting the cart before the horse, definitely wasn't having it both ways.
Her gaze lingered on Gemma's calm and certain face for a long time, then moved to Sherlock, still reading his book.
As if sensing Hermione's gaze, Sherlock in the distance suddenly looked up, his eyes meeting Hermione's exactly, a flash of understanding in his gray eyes.
Hermione's clenched fists slowly loosened, the obsession in her eyes receding like tide, replaced by layers of realization and heavy exhaustion.
"I—I'll think about it."
She finally raised her head. Though stubbornness remained in her eyes, there was more softening warmth. "Thank you, Gemma."
Gemma smiled, the curve at her eyes gentle as a crescent moon. "That's right. You've already done well enough.
You don't need to force yourself to be a never-stopping clock."
Hermione nodded, peeling the foil and popping the lemon candy in her mouth.
Then—so sour!
Hermione looked at Gemma in surprise.
Gemma laughed.
Just now she'd been counseling Hermione, but thinking about it, wasn't she herself the same?
However, even Gemma herself hadn't expected that the person who ultimately confirmed her feelings wouldn't be someone else, but Hermione.
Being willing to answer Sherlock's late-night request to help this potential rival—the generosity behind this clearly transcended ordinary friendship.
Watching Hermione's expression from the sour lemon, a hint of cunning flashed through Gemma's sea-blue eyes.
"A very wise decision, Hermione."
As she spoke, she took Hermione's hand and led her to the sofa.
Both sat down simultaneously.
The firelight jumped warmly, illuminating three young wizards with different thoughts who had nevertheless achieved some wonderful balance in this moment.
Hermione had finally shed part of her burden, finding the correct approach.
While counseling Hermione, Gemma had clarified her own feelings, displayed care and understanding that transcended jealousy.
As for Sherlock.
He silently watched these two excellent witches who worried themselves sick over him and ultimately compromised. That deep friendship also seemed to quietly extend into deeper, more complex dimensions.
This moment's silent warmth had quietly planted an unpredictable foreshadowing for the future.
Since this exchange, one more person now knew about the Room of Requirement.
The Easter holiday also ended amid this tense atmosphere.
The young wizards returned to normal school life.
Strangely, though returning from holiday, everyone actually felt more relaxed.
At the same time, Harry and Ron were surprised to discover that Hermione was no longer the busiest one.
Her whole person had become radiant.
"Sherlock's really that effective?"
Ron found it incredible. He said to Harry, "Ernie Macmillan told me Hermione has missed Muggle Studies class several times now."
Harry hadn't had time back then to investigate the secret of Hermione's unbelievable schedule.
Now he had even less time.
Because shortly after Easter, the Slytherin versus Hufflepuff match ended.
In order to take the lead in points, Slytherin deliberately didn't catch the Golden Snitch despite having a large score advantage.
Malfoy performed brilliantly in this match.
He successfully prevented Cedric from catching the Golden Snitch time and again.
However, Cedric wasn't a pushover either.
He ultimately caught the Golden Snitch before the score gap expanded to four hundred points, ending the match.
But even adding the 150 points for catching the Snitch, they still lost by nearly three hundred points.
Despite this, no one blamed Cedric.
He had truly done his best.
Dragging it out longer would only have widened the score gap further.
But this meant the Slytherin team, with two complete victories, now led the league by a full two hundred points!
At a time like this, even without Sherlock and Hermione's help, the little lions could calculate the scores.
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