Granger Was Never Just a Bookworm Who Could Recite Textbooks

Ben Nevis Mountain, outside a secluded grove of trees.

The clearing right next to the woods wasn't a good place to camp, especially since there was plenty of water nearby, which was perfect for mosquitoes to breed. And now that it was summer, all sorts of annoying mosquitoes buzzed around the glowing campfire and Oil Lamp until McNair got a headache from the noise and impatiently threw a bag of Potions wrapped in linen into the fire.

Thick white smoke gradually spread out, and the mosquitoes swarming around it immediately fell to the ground, finally bringing peace to the campsite.

A smile spread across McNair's ugly face, "Barty, look, this stuff is really good. It's better than the Potions Lucius kept in the tent. I heard it's a recipe Severus learned in African continent, where there are many Potions that work by fumigation..."

Barty Crouch Barty Jr.., busy in the open space nearby, intently examined the neatly arranged wooden planks in front of him, pondering how to assemble them into a large Portkey.

To prevent it from being touched or taken by anyone other than the user, conventional makers usually make Portkey into inconspicuous old items or trash, such as broken fish buckets, old boots, or discarded leather jackets. But now that he is making Portkey for transporting giants, it must be big enough and sturdy enough. Considering that those giants have no brains, it must also be made conspicuous so that the idiot can see it at a glance.

Hearing him mention Snape's Potions, Crouch licked his dry lips and pressed on in a low voice, "Snape went to Africa? When? There was no mention of this trip in his reports to the Dark Lord..."

"Who knows?" McNair chuckled twice. He knew that the Dark Lord's most loyal servant looked down on Snape, who was equally favored. "There's probably nothing worth reporting. Potions Master like them like to go to strange and unusual places to find materials and recipes."

Crouch glanced expressionlessly at his slightly offensive gaze, raised an eyebrow, and lowered his eyes. "Whether it's worth reporting is for the Dark Lord to decide. I will report this matter when I get back."

"You're right..."

McNair chuckled in agreement. He had no interest in getting involved in these messy battles. Compared to these people favored by the Dark Lord, he was just an insignificant servant.

Crouch was inexplicably irritated, and just as he was about to say something more, he suddenly heard a giant's hoarse roar coming from afar, and a flock of sleeping birds flew up from the woods behind him.

"That Gug Grawp is in trouble!"

The two Death Eater exchanged a glance, waved their wands, and transformed into two billowing black mists that rose into the air and flew towards the Depression.

The sky at the end of summer night generously spilled silver light, the moonlight was so bright that the colors of the surrounding rocks and vegetation could be clearly seen.

Two figures trailing black mist streaked across the sky. The two people sitting side by side stood up from the ground and brushed the dirt off their bodies.

Since the troll incident on Halloween Night in their first year, the two have persisted in dueling training. At first, they practiced simple offensive and defensive spells, but gradually they progressed to controlling the rhythm of battle and coordinating the spells. Later, Hogwarts also opened related Dueling Club, and their results far exceeded those of their peers. Around the Triwizard Tournament the Goblet of Fire, in the Dueling Classroom of the Fantasy Book, they learned about the concept of the Transfiguration combat system...

Ultimately, those were all safe environments overseen by professors; tonight was their actual duel practice.

Loren channeled the surging Magic Power within him, swinging his wand upwards at an angle: "[Piercing Bolt]"

Two crimson beams of magical energy shot out, accompanied by a whistling sound that ripped through the night sky, heading straight for the figures in the black mist. The two wisps of black mist stopped abruptly in mid-air, staggered, and fell somewhat disheveled towards the direction where the two were standing.

The two sized each other up from thirty feet apart, wands clutched in their hands, preparing a spell to be cast at any moment.

Loren raised his voice and laughed, "Long time no see, Moody... no, I should say Professor Crouch? Professor Crouch, we all thought you Defense Against the Dark Arts last semester very well. Why did you suddenly resign? Did you find a new job with better pay?"

"Loren Morgan, Hermione Granger?"

Barty Jr. Crouch Jr. recognized the two outstanding students and instinctively scanned his surroundings, suspecting that others were lying in ambush nearby. However, standing on the high ridge, the leeward slope below was completely exposed, and there was nowhere for anyone to hide.

He breathed a sigh of relief. He was initially panicked by the sudden attack, but when he realized that the attackers were just two underage wizards, a smile crept onto his lips, revealing undisguised cruelty. "Two lowly Mudblood, Dumbledore actually sent you to your deaths! Defense Against the Dark Arts? You'll never have to attend classes again. I'll turn your corpses into two bones and bury them in the soil of Ben Nevis Mountain..."

"What an impolite fellow! We greeted you warmly, and you dared to treat your students like this? You have no manners whatsoever in the Crouch family. What's wrong with you, Professor Crouch? Didn't your father teach you manners?"

Loren's incessant shouting echoed across the empty Mountainous Area, making the expression on the face opposite him even more unpleasant.

"Oh, I forgot, you murdered your biological father, leaving only a mangled mess of flesh. And you've adopted a new father, who probably won't teach you any manners or etiquette..."

Even Hermione, who was standing next to him, couldn't help but glance at him.

Is this the kind of emotional provocation and psychological suppression used in the Dueling Club?

I've learned a lot...

Barty Jr. Crouch.'s face grew increasingly grim. He licked his lips and forced out a cold voice from his throat. "I've changed my mind. Before I kill you, I'll torture you with the Cruciatus Curse until the sun rises, and you'll learn what true grace is!"

Walden McNair, standing to the side, rolled his eyes and quietly raised his wand, aiming it at the little Witch not far away, a bewitching red dot of light floating around.

As a key member of the Committee for the Disposal of Dangerous Creatures, his daily job was to chop off the heads of those animals with an axe. His colleagues at the Ministry of Magic were used to calling him a skilled executioner, a cruel butcher, or some other name that represented his ruthlessness. McNair did not reject these names; on the contrary, he enjoyed them because he loved his job.

Many years ago, before that pesky Scamander retired and went into seclusion, the death penalty rate for the Committee for the Disposal of Dangerous Creatures was less than a quarter due to his influence. Fortunately, through his efforts in recent years, he has gradually changed this situation, and now most of the cases handed over to the committee result in a death sentence.

As he inflicted more and more torture on animals and chopped off more and more heads, McNair found himself becoming increasingly adept at using the Unforgivable Curses ...

McNair's eyes widened with excitement, and the thought of a young life about to groan and wail under his spell made his breathing quicken.

"[Heart-wrenching] "

A beam of intensely malevolent red light hurtled toward the Witch on the right, striking an invisible Magic Power shield and producing a metallic clang.

The shimmering red light from the Cruciatus Curse reflected in Hermione's beautiful eyes, bright and dazzling like Starry River hanging high in the sky. The Magic Power contained within the beam was constantly worn down by the Shield Charm, radiating a brilliant brilliance until the Magic Power was exhausted and vanished silently.

Loren turned to look at the little Witch, slightly displeased. "Why didn't it bounce back?"

"The Unforgivable Curses is different from other spells, so I want to be on the safe side..." Hermione calmed her breathing, her eyes bright, and she looked at McNair with confidence, the slight unease and tension in her heart disappearing.

Crouch was initially somewhat annoyed with McNair for taking matters into his own hands and stealing his hunting pleasure, but when he suddenly saw that the little Witch was able to withstand the surprise attack of the Cruciatus Curse in such a hurry, he was a little surprised.

Crouch glanced at McNair, whose eyes were wide with surprise, and frowned, reminding him, "Be careful, she's number one in her grade, and her dueling skills are no less than those of an ordinary adult wizard."

"Understood." McNair suppressed his excited killing urges.

The four people looked at each other, tacitly identified their opponents, and slowly separated as they walked to either side.

"[Cruciatus Curse] "

The Cruciatus Curse sounded the whistle for the four-person battle. In an instant, a dazzling magical light intertwined on the leeward slope. Powerful incantations pounded the rocks and soil, sending dust flying. The muffled roar echoed the rhythmic pounding sounds from the nearby Cave, creating a noisy symphony.

Hermione has fought many battles, but none of them have been direct confrontations with wizards.

Four years ago, in the abandoned bathroom at Hogwarts, the little Witch used Fire Charm to repel a troll.

Beneath the withered Devil's Snare in the Castle's underground passage, a first-year Witch once wielded the Sword of Gryffindor, thwarting Voldemort's ambition to seize the Sorcerer's Stone.

Hermione Granger is no bookworm or Miss Know-It-All. In the dueling practice with the Champion of Hogwarts and Ilvermorny around the time of the Goblet of Fire last year, she always had the upper hand.

The sinister McNair initially didn't take the top-ranked Witch in the class too seriously. She was just Mudblood Witch who had just finished fourth grade and hadn't even started fifth grade yet. Let alone a seasoned Death Eater and executioner, even a new employee who had just joined the company this year could kill the little Witch quickly. However, as the spells poured down from her and the attacks were relentless, almost overwhelming him, McNair's heart gradually sank.

However, wizard duels are never just about skill. He didn't believe that an underage Witch could defeat him with decades of experience and Magic Power!

"They're all just struggling to survive, like animals facing execution, only making their deaths more painful!" McNair mocked, dodging the spells opposite him while repeatedly unleashing his Unforgivable Curses at tricky angles.

The agile yet sturdy Shield Charm on the other side managed to block each attack successfully.

Hermione stood sideways thirty feet away, her right hand constantly thrusting her wand out like a fencing sword, sometimes to unleash insignificant attack spells, sometimes to deflect spells coming from various angles.

The deflection of the Shield Charm requires precise control of Magic Power and direction. Not everyone has a pair of magical eyes like Loren. Hermione can only rely on her own mind. As she becomes more and more familiar with the feel of the Cruciatus Curse hitting the Shield Charm, her control over direction and Magic Power gradually becomes clearer.

"Slanting upwards..."

"Slanting downwards..."

"Directly in front..."

"Just a hair's breadth away—I found it!"

Hermione's eyes shone brightly, her lips moved as she loudly recited the Shield Charm incantation, and with her right hand she raised her wand upwards. Magic Power flowed along the Vine Wood wand, condensing at the tip into a slightly tilted, transparent shield that slammed head-on into the whistling Cruciatus Curse.

With a crisp ringing sound, the invisible, transparent shield shimmered with light.

The powerful Cruciatus Curse paused for a moment, then flew back with the same speed, crashing into the executioner's chest.

McNair's pupils contracted violently. This was the first time he had faced the Cruciatus Curse he had unleashed. A strong sense of malice washed over him, as if an invisible hand had reached into his chest through his mouth and nose and squeezed his heart, causing him to catch his breath.

His abundant experience guided his body to make an almost instinctive reaction. McNair bent over and rolled on the ground, barely dodging the Cruciatus Curse he had just released in a nearly pathetic manner.

As the red light fell on an unnamed herbaceous plant, its once vibrant green leaves instantly withered and died from dehydration. McNair, who had just gotten up from the ground, broke out in a cold sweat, his heart pounding against his ribs as if it would burst out of his chest.

This is a fourth-year underage wizard!?

Enduring the throbbing pain in his temples and the dizziness that kept creeping into his mind, McNair turned to look at the little Witch with her tense face and couldn't help but curse inwardly.

Hermione gripped her wand, secretly annoyed that she had forgotten to cast a spell while he was dodging. She wondered if Loren had seen it, and he would probably nag her about it again later.

Without taking advantage of the situation to pursue, McNair slowly calmed his heartbeat by breathing, suppressing the intense discomfort coming from his body and mind. He desperately wanted to say something to intimidate the other party and, incidentally, to bolster his own morale.

Before McNair could speak, Hermione swiftly waved her wand: "[Viperous Venom]"

Gravelly particles rose from the ground, skimming a few feet away as they shot out in a cluster, accompanied by a sharp whooshing sound.

McNair had no doubt that the stones could pierce his flesh and even break his bones. He took a big step to the left, dodging the stones and waving his wand to retaliate. Just as he was about to instinctively recite the Cruciatus Curse, the words changed at the last second, and he used the safer Stunning Spell instead.

Hermione smiled as she watched the spell being cast a few seconds slower than expected.

He hesitated, and hesitation meant decreased focus, slower spellcasting speed, and reduced vigilance...

He summoned the transparent magic shield again to reflect the Stunning Spell back, blasting several rocks at McNair's feet thirty feet away.

McNair dodged his own spell with a somber expression. Hesitation and hesitation weakened the strong malice in his heart, but he did not notice the strange thing on the ground around him. The pebbles he had just dodged had gathered around him and were trembling slightly.