Mischievous Hermione

Chapter 40: The Mischievous Hermione

Brook looked toward the Black Lake.

With a casual wave, a Cutting Charm slashed across the ice.

The ice split open instantly, revealing a thick layer—definitely over ten centimeters.

"Let's go ice skating."

"Ice... ice skating..." Hermione covered her face with her hands, utterly mortified.

"What's wrong? Hermione, don't you want to play?"

Brook was puzzled.

What was with that reaction?

"No, it's nothing." Hermione quickly waved her hands.

Suddenly, a glint of mischief flashed in her eyes. "But I don't know how!"

"No problem, I'll teach you."

Brook had learned to skate in his past life.

His skill was average, but it was enough for a beginner.

"Okay!"

So they stepped onto the Black Lake.

Hermione conjured two sharp blades of ice under their shoes.

Brook's Transfiguration was among the best in their year.

But compared to Hermione, he still fell short.

Especially after Hermione had read Dumbledore's notes—her Transfiguration had taken a qualitative leap.

If Brook had tried to conjure them, the blades wouldn't have been nearly as even or sharp.

"Hermione, ice skating is actually pretty simple. Don't be scared." Brook first helped Hermione steady herself on the ice.

"Come on, spread your legs a little, bend your knees slightly, like this."

Brook held Hermione's small hand, demonstrating the moves.

Hermione pressed her lips together tightly, struggling to hold back a laugh.

"Now, let's try slowly sliding one foot, like walking, but lighter and slower."

"Good, Hermione, you're doing great!"

"I'm letting go now. Just follow that feeling and alternate your feet slowly."

He released her hand and stayed close to watch.

Hermione pretended to glide forward nervously for a few steps, then suddenly sped up, racing across the ice.

She spun, she jumped.

Her movements were smooth and graceful, like a professional figure skater.

Brook's eyes went wide.

He'd been tricked!

"Thanks, Professor Brook. Great lesson—I've learned it now."

Hermione's lips curled up high, harder to suppress than an AK, her eyes crinkling into crescent moons.

She even executed an elegant, professional figure skater's bow.

"Oh, you dared to fool me!"

Brook pushed off hard with his feet and accelerated, charging toward Hermione.

"Come on! Catch me!"

For a moment, the ice rang with Hermione's cheerful laughter and Brook's mock-angry threats.

Though Brook was much stronger physically than Hermione, his skating was only half-baked.

Hermione, meanwhile, changed directions and spun around, nimble as a little fox—Brook couldn't catch her at all.

In the end, Hermione deliberately slowed down, letting him grab her.

Brook reached out with both hands and "messed up" her hair.

"See if you dare again."

"Mercy, I won't, I won't."

Hermione begged for mercy verbally, but she still wore a playful grin.

Fun was fun, but Hermione always treated learning as her top priority.

That evening, Brook was once again dragged reluctantly to the library by Hermione.

In Hermione's words, Brook had already wasted too much study time because of the Farm.

Now that An An had taken over the farm work, he had to make up for the lost time.

What else could Brook do?

He had no choice but to comply.

After all, Hermione was still doing his homework for him.

If she got angry and quit, he'd be the one suffering.

Just as the two sat down in the library, Harry came running over with Ron, both out of breath.

They plopped down right in front of Brook and Hermione.

Harry's face was overflowing with excitement he couldn't contain.

"Harry, what's up with you?" Brook asked, curious about Harry's expression.

This clearly looked like there was some juicy gossip to dig into!

Harry glanced around, making sure no one was paying attention to them, before lowering his voice.

"I discovered a huge secret—the Troll was let in by Snape!"

Ron didn't react much, clearly Harry had already told him.

Brook, on the other hand, wore a look of utter disbelief.

Hermione looked very surprised. "How do you know?"

"Remember the night before Halloween? Ron and I followed you, and we saw Snape rushing upstairs."

"Just now, I wanted to get back the copy of Quidditch Through the Ages you lent me, and I saw Filch bandaging Snape's leg. Snape even mentioned three heads. I bet he's trying to steal whatever Fluffy is guarding, and he let the Troll in to distract everyone!"

Brook looked at Harry and almost wanted to applaud him.

That little brain, that imagination—what a waste not to be writing novels.

"He's a professor. He wouldn't do something like that, would he?" Hermione frowned slightly, still finding it hard to believe.

"So what if he's a professor?" Ron immediately jumped in to support Harry. "Look at how he treats Harry, how he targets Gryffindor. I agree with Harry."

At the same time, he looked at Brook, who hadn't said a word.

Hermione and Harry also turned to him.

Brook shrugged. "Don't look at me. I'm not interested in this kind of guessing game. Whether Snape wants to steal something or not, it's got nothing to do with me."

He did enjoy some gossip, sure.

But he liked ready-made gossip.

This kind that required him to rack his brain over reasoning just didn't spark his interest.

"How can it have nothing to do with you? Snape is trying to steal something Dumbledore is keeping!"

Harry argued anxiously, not understanding why Brook was so calm.

This was exactly why Brook didn't like hanging around "kids."

His mental age and way of thinking just couldn't sync up with their excitement points.

"Harry, you said what Fluffy is guarding belongs to Dumbledore, right?"

"Yeah, Hagrid took me to Gringotts to get money, and he picked up something from vault 713, saying it was Hogwarts' top secret."

"So it's important, right?"

Harry nodded frantically.

"Then tell me, is it safer in Dumbledore's hands, or in a place guarded by a Three-headed Dog?"

Brook's one question left all three of them stunned.

Hermione, having been influenced by Brook for over a year, reacted faster. "You mean fishing."

Harry and Ron still wore blank expressions.

Their little brains were still stuck on debating who was stronger, Dumbledore or Fluffy.

Seeing they still didn't get it, Hermione couldn't help but facepalm.

"Headmaster Dumbledore is the greatest White Wizard of our time—his combat strength is unquestionable. As for Fluffy, Brook could probably beat it, let alone Dumbledore."

"Hey, hey, hey! Hermione, if you're going to say Dumbledore's awesome, just say it—why drag me into the comparison?" Brook protested.