She looked at me.
"Crutches meant to compensate for the poverty of our minds. That is depressing."
"In much knowledge, much sorrow."
At that, we both returned to reading, ignoring the occasional students passing by, busy with self education.
"Hey, Hector!" Herbert said loudly, emerging from behind the shelves with a letter in hand.
"Quiet!" Madam Pince shouted from the entrance. "Or you will not see the path to the temple of knowledge!"
"They replied to you," a pale Herbert handed me the letter and hastily retreated.
My parents wrote that they were glad about my successes but worried about my suitability for sports competitions, both in terms of danger and the effectiveness of local medicine. At the end, there was a note clearly from my father: "Son, you are a good lad, and your old man did not spare himself in his youth either. But weigh the risks against the ability to heal injuries without consequences. From experience, your old man knows how a trivial injury can put an end to a road of adventure."
"Daphne Daphne Daphne look what I learned!" a single rapid sentence burst out from an absolutely happy, angelic little girl who appeared so suddenly it startled even me. "Oh…"
A moment of embarrassment passed unnoticed, replaced by a quite successful attempt to put on a mask of aristocratic coldness. Only the book pressed tighter to her chest betrayed light nervousness. Yes, definitely a trait of the local elite.
"And who is this charming young lady?" I asked immediately.
"Oh, in much knowledge, much sorrow," Daphne theatrically mocked me.
"You force me to strain my memory… hm… Astoria Greengrass, if I am not mistaken?"
"Correct," the blonde first year nodded importantly.
"Hector Granger, at your service."
"I have heard of you," the girl nodded.
"I hope only good things?"
"Do not count on it," Daphne shook her head. "You are second on Malfoy's personal list, and every evening in the common room he devotes nearly as much attention to you as to Potter. Naturally, only slander."
"I would think twice if Lucius Malfoy spoke badly of me. Draco's opinion does not interest me at all."
"Hm," Astoria lifted her nose, clearly sympathetic to Draco Malfoy.
"Well, ladies, lunch is soon, and I do not want to miss it," I closed the book and stood up.
"See you," Daphne nodded, and Astoria sat beside her sister, waiting for me to leave.
I quickly returned the book to its shelf and left the library, pondering whether to grow the bow in a pot or outside. Both options have pros and cons, but the hardest part is the bowstring. Perhaps I should ask Professor Hagrid? He is not much of a professor, but as a connoisseur of creatures he is known throughout Hogwarts and carries some authority. At least among those not ashamed to acknowledge a gamekeeper's experience.
My thoughts were rudely interrupted.
"Hector, wait!"
Turning at the voice, I saw Hermione hurrying after me, holding a ginger cat.
"Hi, Mione. Cute cat."
"Hi, yes, thanks," she exhaled, catching up. "I wanted to talk to you."
"Go ahead. I am heading to lunch. Walking with me?"
"Yes."
Hermione needed a few steps to gather courage, or composure, or whatever she was doing. The cat, however, was amusing, with its aggressive Persian face and thick ginger fur.
"Hector, I understand everything," Hermione began, stroking the cat. "But Quidditch is insanely dangerous. Have you thought about how your parents will feel after all these years? How worried they will be?"
"They will be fine," I shrugged. "I wrote to them about joining the team. They worry about whether injuries can be healed."
"That is horrible… You wrote to them about Quidditch? And the risks?" Hermione would have stopped dead if she did not want to walk beside me. "You cannot do that."
"But Harry can?"
"That is different."
"Because he is an orphan and no one worries about him?"
"Hector Granger!" Hermione stopped, shaking her unruly hair, looking at me with terrifying seriousness. "This is all wrong. You have only just recovered, and you are already putting yourself in danger, flying and playing Quidditch. And what is that broom anyway? It is clearly not licensed by the Ministry, which means it could be dangerous, and illegal."
I took her by the elbow and guided her onward toward the Great Hall, as other students began appearing.
"Your way of showing concern, sister dear, is horrifying," a grin spread across my face.
"Nothing horrifying."
"Even your cat is judging you."
"No he is not, right, Crookshanks?" Hermione looked at the cat, who made the most arrogant face possible. To be fair, Persians always look like that.
"If I did not remember you from early childhood, I would answer you very sharply. I could counter accuse you of recklessness, since since my arrival students in the common room have quietly discussed many things."
"Like what?"
"For example, 'Is that the brother of the Granger who decided to defeat a mountain troll alone in first year?'"
"That is not true!" Hermione protested.
"But something like that happened, right? Never mind. I am perfectly healthy and well prepared physically. We can go to Madam Pomfrey, and she will confirm it. The broom is licensed and legal, just not on the English market yet, and will not be for another year. I am flying it as part of a promotional campaign."
"Listen, Mione. I will be honest. I do not like your friends, Potter and Weasley, but they are your friends and interests. Right or wrong is subjective. Can I hope you will not judge me either? This is our choice. Even if it is wrong, neither of us will gain experience if we cannot follow it and bump into our own obstacles."
"But Quidditch is still dangerous."
"Magical medicine is impressive, you know that. The pitch is enchanted against truly serious injuries, and everything else heals in a day or two. I am more likely to break my neck on the moving staircases than in a match."
"I never thought about the staircases," Hermione sank into thought, her cat lifting its head worriedly.
"Do not worry," I hugged the curly disaster. "Your little brother does not plan to cause you trouble."
"But… this too. It does not fit in my head. How?"
"How would I know? I know it should not be possible either. Hi, Susan," I waved at the red haired girl coming down the stairs we were passing.
"Hi, Hector… Hermione," she slowed on my sister's name, then hurried on.
"Do not worry about me," I said again. "And I am not going to interfere in your exciting wizarding life."
We reached the Great Hall, and only at the doors did Hermione politely free her arm.
"Honestly," she looked at me, stopping halfway to the Hufflepuff table. "I do not know what to say. I have no idea what one is supposed to say in situations like this."
"That is why you do not socialize much?"
"No, no," Hermione protested somewhat theatrically, hugging her cat. "I just have so many things to do. Classes, subjects, homework…"
"All right. Your friends are already at the table. Join them."
Hermione hurried to her table, and I sat at mine. Lunch will not eat itself.
After lunch, I went to Madam Sprout, who could most likely be found in the greenhouses. I found her there and asked for some soil, literally enough for one large pot, which I transfigured permanently. To the inevitable question of why, I answered that I wanted to grow something simple and harmless, as personal experience. I was given soil, and returned to the common room, then to our dormitory, closing myself into my nook.
The task was simple. Find something plant like or living soil and sprout it using a basic memorized growth magic formula, adding intent and will. Of course, the latter only works if the elf has a strong, initiated affinity with life, but I did not practice those manipulations for nothing.