Hermione's looks had always been underestimated by her classmates: her unruly, bushy hair, a pair of prominent front teeth, her untidy appearance, and the thick books she was always carrying. Most importantly, her eyes were often tense and inexplicably sharp.
The eyes were the windows to the soul. When people were wary of and resistant to the whole world, always competing and struggling to seize more room to survive, there was no way those eyes could seem cute to the little wizards at school.
Unless Hermione grew up into a mature, sophisticated woman after graduation. With eyes like those, she would be perfectly suited to a senior position at the Ministry of Magic.
As the saying went, magic was the power of the soul. You didn't need some magical crystal ball to find out what kind of magic suited someone. Just look at their eyes and you'd know.
With Hermione's personality, she was a terrible fit for the romantic, more world-embracing art of Divination.
"Stop!"
Hannah interrupted Anton's long-winded explanation again. "I just casually asked whether you had any other beauty spells!"
Anton's expression froze. He felt he couldn't talk to this woman anymore. She'd be the death of him.
Was this any way to approach learning?
Huh?
But clearly, he couldn't snap, "There's no teaching those who refuse to learn," and sweep out of the room. Hermione was staring at him intently, as if he were an Aladdin who'd escaped from an oil lamp and could grant wishes.
Anna, who always dressed impeccably, had grabbed Anton by the sleeve, her eyes full of excitement.
Oh, and Fred, who had recently been making a fierce play for Angelina Johnson, eagerly hurried over too. Apparently, he couldn't wait either.
Anton pursed his lips. "I was going to explain how to harmonize