Talent, Willpower, Love

Upon hearing this, a gleam of thirst for knowledge flashed in Hermione's eyes:

"The mysterious Eastern people actually have a potion that can boost magic power without side effects. I've only been using it for a year, and my magic power already far exceeds that of a first-year. If..."

"You're overthinking it."

Caesar shook his head, cutting off Hermione's daydreaming:

"Longmu's effect looks like it boosts magic power, but in truth, it only uses magical materials to stimulate the potential within your body, increasing your magical affinity. It lets you sense the existence of magic more clearly and mobilize more magic with greater ease."

Hermione quickly grasped the key point: "So that means it's like a cheat device for accelerating learning, just like those hacks in electronic games out there."

"Exactly."

Caesar nodded and continued: "If you want to become a legendary wizard on par with Dumbledore and Grindelwald in the future, you'll truly rely on only three things: talent, willpower, and—love."

Talent, willpower, love.

Hermione's mind raced. Becoming a legendary wizard was the dream of every new magic student. Hermione was no exception, especially now that she was undefeated in her first year at school, brimming with strong confidence.

"Caesar, how good is my magical talent?"

"If nothing unexpected happens along the way, your future strength will reach the level of a Hogwarts head of house, like Professor Snape or Professor McGonagall."

Caesar's assessment of Hermione was very high. She was the "brain" of the Golden Trio—calm in a crisis, skilled at analysis, planning, and preparation. From brewing Polyjuice Potion in first year to planning the hunt for Horcruxes in seventh, her meticulous strategies were key to the team's success. Even when her strength fell short, she could rely on her intelligence to flexibly apply all kinds of knowledge to solve problems, like the magical network and the Basilisk's weakness. Of course, because her intellect was so outstanding, she wasn't given exceptionally strong talent in magic itself—otherwise, there might not have been much left for Harry Potter to do.

"Then what about my willpower?" Hermione pressed further.

"You're the bravest person I've ever met."

In Caesar's view, courage was also one of Hermione's defining traits. In the original story, for the sake of her friends, she could break school rules, fight dark wizards, and even alter her parents' memories to make them forget her, all to keep them safe. This required immense, heartfelt courage. What was even rarer was that her courage wasn't recklessness—it was moral courage, weighed rationally, that still chose to fight for justice and friendship.

"Magical talent—I have it. Willpower—I don't lack that either. So..." Hermione lifted her head. Those brown eyes, always sparkling with wisdom and a competitive gleam, were now shrouded in a rare, genuinely confused haze. She stared at Caesar, as if interrogating the most baffling magical principle, and threw out her "trump card":

"...What is love?"

The air seemed to freeze for a moment.

Caesar paused.

His gaze refocused on Hermione's face: "Love is the most dangerous curse. It can make people lose their reason, cloud clear judgment, and bring the deepest pain. It can make you strong enough to fear nothing, and also fragile enough to be utterly broken."

"I don't quite understand. Is it really that dramatic?"

Hermione hadn't expected that the love Caesar spoke of would be like this—it seemed too tumultuous, too surging and overwhelming. She didn't think she had ever felt anything like it.

"Of course it's not that dramatic. I heard all that from Dumbledore." Caesar smiled and shook his head. He had never fallen in love with anyone himself, so how could he know what love was like? Those words were something he'd happened to learn while studying Grindelwald, during a conversation with Dumbledore.

Then, seeing Hermione's bewildered expression, Caesar explained further: "When you fall in love with someone someday, maybe you'll understand. Don't forget to tell me what it feels like—I want to know if it's really like what the headmaster said."

"Mhm."

Teased by Caesar, Hermione shook off the strange thoughts in her head. Her face returned to the expression she'd had when she first entered the office, carrying a confident smile as if it were only natural:

"But Caesar, tomorrow is the Quidditch match. I'm representing Gryffindor. Now I'm giving you a chance to buy me the newest broomstick, and then tomorrow I'll let you cheer for me!"

"When did I ever say I was going to cheer for you?" Caesar's face showed a doting expression. Before the cute, tsundere girl could get angry, he reached out and ruffled her hair.

"But no problem. While the sun hasn't set yet, let's head out."

The next day.

The atmosphere in the Quidditch stadium was nearly explosive. The red-and-gold of Gryffindor and the blue-and-bronze of Ravenclaw were clearly divided in the stands, the roar of the crowd reverberating through the field like a tangible shockwave. This was Hermione's first important match as Seeker, and her opponent happened to be Professor Caesar's house, Ravenclaw—the house she was close to. On top of that, the Ravenclaw students were ready to avenge the humiliation of last month's Wisdom Cup.

Thus, this match was full of spectacle.

She sat astride her broom, suspended high in the air, the wild wind tousling her curls as her heart pounded like a drum in her chest.

Amid the spinning Quaffle and the whistling Bludgers darting past, her gaze would inevitably drift toward the staff stands.

Caesar sat there, amidst a blue wave of Ravenclaw supporters, his dark robes standing out with a quiet stillness.

He had promised to come—that was enough.

She silently vowed to win this victory before his eyes.

Yet, just as the match grew tense, with the Golden Snitch flickering in and out of sight several times, Hermione's peripheral vision caught a sudden movement in the staff stands.

That quiet figure stood up, without a hint of hesitation, turned, and vanished into the shadows of the passageway.

In an instant, the wind high above seemed to turn bitingly cold.

He left? At the critical moment of a match against his own house, when she needed his witness most?

A feeling, a mix of loss, confusion, and a hint of grievance, seized her heart, nearly causing her to miss a Bludger that whistled past her ear.

On the third floor of the castle, in the secluded spot leading to the forbidden corridor, intense whispers were unfolding, forming a strange contrast with the clamor of the pitch.

"You must stop your prying, Severus!"

Professor Quirrell's voice carried a forced toughness, but his stuttering endings and constantly writhing body betrayed his fear. "You... you have no right..."

"I have the right to ensure Hogwarts is not eroded by certain internal threats." Snape's voice was like an icy serpent, slick and oppressive.

His tall figure nearly completely enveloped Quirrell in shadow. "Your recent behavior has been very suspicious, Quirrell. Especially since your return from your 'vacation.'"

"That's slander!" Quirrell shrieked, his back pressing tightly against the cold stone wall.

Just as Snape advanced further, as if intending to forcibly uncover the truth with Legilimency...

Searching for the book title yields nothing; try searching by the author instead—maybe it's just been renamed!

In response to the readers' requests, we are now launching a VIP membership ad-free feature.

Click to view.