Friends Don't Need Grand Thanks

As Hermione left, Professor McGonagall turned her gaze to Harry and Ron behind Damon.

When she saw Harry, her gaze paused slightly before she said:

"So, you rushed here without a second thought because you were worried about your friend's safety, is that right?"

"Yes, yes!"

Harry and Ron nodded repeatedly.

"Friendship made you overlook the Troll's danger and terror. I believe that is the unique courage of us Gryffindors." Professor McGonagall nodded, and her expression softened somewhat. Harry and Ron both felt slightly relieved.

But soon, their hearts leaped back into their throats.

"I must say, you were very fortunate. However—I do not wish to encourage such reckless courage. Therefore, you will receive neither points nor deductions. Now, please leave."

The two exchanged a look with Damon, giving him a look that said, "Take care of yourself, mate," before hurriedly leaving the second floor.

Only after they had climbed two flights of stairs in silence and could no longer smell the Troll's stench did they finally relax completely.

"Looks like Damon wasn't bragging. He really did spend all his time studying Charms! Did you hear what he said to the professor earlier? Transfiguration from inanimate objects to animals—what did that mean?

Were they already categorizing Transfiguration by difficulty level? Professor McGonagall had never mentioned any of that in class!"

"Ron, I'm afraid we wouldn't understand even if Professor McGonagall told us. Do you remember? So far, we can only transform a few small stationary objects—that's what they called transfiguration from inanimate object to inanimate object."

Harry raised his head. The stairs before him stretched endlessly like a stairway to heaven. He trudged upward with his head hanging low, looking both dejected and envious.

How long would he have to study at Hogwarts before he could possess strength like Damon's?

Why did everyone else call him the Savior? Why had he shown nothing special at all so far?

So plain and ordinary, he was like the weeds by the Black Lake—everywhere, drifting wherever the wind took them. For the first time, Harry felt the urge to become stronger.

The Common Room was packed with people and buzzing with noise. Everyone was eating the food that had been brought in, while Hermione stood alone by the entrance, waiting for them.

For a moment, the two felt awkward.

"Thank you—where's Damon?"

"Professor McGonagall kept him behind. She probably has something else to say."

Harry answered quickly. For some reason, both he and Ron felt thoroughly embarrassed, and they hurried toward their plates.

Hermione glanced at them, then turned to look at the opening to the Common Room. She placed her hands back in front of her skirt and waited quietly.

She rehearsed it in her mind.

When Damon appeared, she would thank him gracefully and generously, with a brilliant smile.

From now on, she and Damon would become good friends.

A perfect plan.

Ten minutes later, a sound came from outside, and Damon's hands reached into the opening.

The appearance of just a pair of hands was enough to make people instinctively picture that devastatingly handsome face.

Hermione suddenly felt a little nervous.

She instinctively looked down and saw that the hem of her pleated skirt had somehow been wrinkled by her tightly clenched hands.

She smoothed it out without drawing attention to herself.

"Hermione, why are you standing here?"

Damon braced his hands against the passageway, smiling gently.

Rather than hurrying forward, he lay across the passageway, his azure eyes fixed directly on Hermione.

Hermione's face began to heat up.

"I was waiting for you."

She was grateful that she could still speak in such a complete sentence.

"Waiting for me? What for?"

The young man's brows lifted slightly with his smile, and his face, like a Greek sculpture, suddenly came alive.

Hermione felt her face grow even hotter—My face must be really red right now!

She could not help thinking it.

How strange. This was not what she had imagined at first, and the atmosphere should not have been like this.

She would thank him solemnly, Damon would respond properly, and though they would still be rivals, they would also be friends who respected one another. Then the matter would be over.

So what was happening now?

"Th-thank you."

She said it awkwardly.

It should not have been like this.

"Oh, so that's why."

Damon's hands suddenly began moving forward. As they did, his body followed, and the distance between them steadily closed.

He gradually moved closer to Hermione and said with a smile:

"No need to thank me. Do you remember what I told you?"

"W-what?"

"We're friends, Hermione. Friends don't need grand thanks."

"Come on, give me a hand."

A slender hand reached toward Hermione. She instinctively took it, only to unexpectedly feel thick calluses against her fingertips.

Damon was so young. Why did he have such thick calluses on his fingers?

Her thoughts drifted uncontrollably, until she heard Damon say:

"Thank you. Let's go eat. You probably haven't eaten properly today, have you?"

"O-okay."

Hermione temporarily put aside her doubts. Their hands touched only briefly before separating.

From then on, Ron and Harry gained another "private tutor."

However, compared with Damon, this new tutor was exceptionally strict.

She would not allow Harry and Ron to copy Damon's homework directly, but she would list the reference books needed to complete their essays and have them look them up themselves.

She would also explain the background of certain buildings they saw during their adventures around the castle, making things much more interesting for them.

After the Troll incident, Hermione no longer cared as much about breaking school rules. This made it much easier for Ron and Harry to get along with her, while any small frictions and disputes were always settled by Damon through his "one-man rule."

Whether it was Hermione, Ron, or Harry, they were always highly obedient to Damon's decisions. Ron had even discussed privately with Harry whether Hermione had already admitted defeat to Damon in her heart.

After November arrived, the weather became extremely cold.

The mountains surrounding the school turned gray beneath snow and ice, while the lake was as cold and hard as quenched steel.

Every morning, the ground was covered in frost.

From the upstairs windows, they could see Hagrid wrapped in a long moleskin coat, wearing rabbit-fur gloves and enormous beaver-fur boots, defrosting Flying Broomsticks on the Quidditch pitch.

The Quidditch match Harry had been looking forward to was about to begin.

To handle the demanding Quidditch training, he had not even found time to ask Damon about training Charms together. He devoted himself entirely to preparing for the Quidditch match.

On Saturday, he would take part in the first match of his life.

Because Snape constantly favored the Slytherin students, Gryffindor was currently second in the House Cup standings—if Damon had not been desperately earning points in Charms and Transfiguration, Harry feared they might not even have held second place.

But as long as they won this match against Slytherin, their House Cup score would rise to first place!