She stepped closer, her eyes blazing, and continued, "If you and your teammates had spent the time you used to investigate which students Professor Caesar 'favored' analyzing the flaws I just mentioned—the ones clearly listed in your strategy manual but that you'd overlooked—then I might not have been the one to catch the Golden Snitch today.
"What Professor Caesar appreciates is my ability to turn book knowledge into victories.
"If you think that's 'favoritism,' then I suggest you first make yourself worthy of being 'favored.'"
Hermione's words were like a series of precise blows. She never directly answered the question, "Why?"
Instead, with a cold, fact-based retort—one even backed by scholarly citations—she threw the question right back at her, heavier than before.
She wasn't defending herself. From a higher vantage point, she was completely rejecting the other girl's "right" to ask the question in the first place.
Roj Venus's face turned red, then white. The logic she'd always been so proud of had been "violently dismantled" by Hermione's facts and achievements, leaving her momentarily speechless.
She opened her mouth, but in the end, nothing came out.
She only nodded stiffly, then turned and hurried away, her retreat rather hasty.
Ron, who'd been pretending to tidy his equipment while secretly straining to listen, stared wide-eyed.
Watching Hermione, like a little falcon that had won a fight, feathers all fluffed up but head still held high, he couldn't help muttering, "Merlin's beard! She's got guts. That's the Ravenclaw captain!"
Neville watched Hermione calmly resume polishing her broom, as if she'd merely answered a textbook question in passing, and couldn't help grinning.
Hermione's logic could sometimes be hard to handle, but you couldn't deny that at times like this, it was... incredibly satisfying.
"So what if she's the Ravenclaw captain?"
Hermione glanced at Roger Davies's hasty retreat and gave a soft snort. She continued rubbing the broom handle with all her might. "She has no right to interfere in my business."
"Wow." Ron leaned closer, his face alight with lingering excitement and blazing curiosity.
He lowered his voice as if discussing a secret more important than winning the Quidditch Cup. "Seriously, Hermione, what exactly is your relationship with Professor Caesar?
"The way he looks at you, and the way you leapt at him today—Merlin, I swear even Professor McGonagall's eyes nearly popped out of her head!"
Hermione paused in the middle of polishing her broom.
She looked at Ron, then glanced at Neville, who was just as curious but trying hard to appear calm.
The fighting look faded from her face, replaced by a more private, gentler certainty. But the answer she gave was so simple it took them by surprise.
"Family." She said the word clearly, then lowered her head and went back to fussing with her broom, as if it were the most natural explanation in the world.
"Family?" Ron yelped, clearly not expecting that answer. "What kind of family? A distant uncle? Your godfather? But you're Muggle-born..."
"It's a kind of family feeling."
Hermione cut off his wild guesses, sounding a little impatient, though a warm light flickered deep in her eyes.
"He's important. As important as family. Is that so hard to understand?"
Ron and Neville exchanged a glance.
Ron scratched his fiery red hair as he digested this, and then a look of dawning realization, mixed with a hint of mischief, slowly spread across his face.
"Oh—family." He drew out the word and nudged Neville with his elbow. "I think I get it now.
"No wonder the Ravenclaws, especially their Prefect who's always hanging around Professor Caesar asking questions, and that Venus girl just now, look at you so strangely."
Hermione frowned. "What do you mean?"
"I mean," Ron said with a cheeky expression. Though he lowered his voice, the teasing was unmistakable,
"they probably don't see you as just an 'exceptionally talented student rival.'
"They probably see you as, well, some kind of more 'intimate' threat. No wonder Venus got shut down. She might really think you're... ahem, a love rival."
"A love rival?!" Hermione's voice shot up, then she realized that was unwise and lowered it again. Her face was full of disbelief and disgust.
"Ron Weasley! Is your brain capable of holding anything useful besides Trolls and ridiculous fantasies like this?! That's absurd! Caesar is a teacher!"
"What's the big deal?"
Ron looked as if he'd made a groundbreaking discovery, his eyes wide as he stared at Hermione with an exaggerated expression that said, "You mean you didn't know?"
His voice grew even lower with the excitement of sharing an enormous secret, yet somehow carried farther.
"Professor Caesar isn't just the youngest teacher at Hogwarts. He also came second in last year's Daily Prophet poll for the wizarding world's most-wanted boyfriend."
"Who came first?" Hermione asked. She instinctively felt that no one could be gentler, stronger, more considerate, more handsome, more reliable, or more understanding than Caesar.
Neville chimed in, sounding a little regretful.
"First place went to a wealthy wizard. I heard he spent a lot of money buying votes. Too bad I missed it back then, or I could've gone to claim a gift too."
Hermione pursed her lips. So having money meant you could do whatever you wanted?
She was full of disdain for money.
Ron, interrupted by Neville, hurried to continue.
"So you could say Professor Caesar is practically the wizarding world's most-wanted boyfriend. Students with crushes on him range from fifth year to seventh year. If Hogwarts had any unmarried female teachers, though..."
"Why do they range from fifth year to seventh year? Why not first year? Is there some problem with that?"
It wasn't Hermione who asked, but Neville. He'd never heard this before either.
Ron looked around to make sure there were no Ravenclaws nearby, then whispered, "Because I heard from some older students that last year, a fourth-year Ravenclaw girl confessed to Professor Caesar.
"And he punished her by making her finish forty-nine sets of homework in one term."
"Merlin's beard, that's forty-nine sets of homework!"
As he spoke, Ron traced a huge circle in the air with both hands, shuddering as if he could feel the horror himself. "No amount of love could survive the torture of forty-nine sets of homework."
Neville couldn't help shivering at the thought.
That was certainly enough homework to put anyone off. If the girl he liked ever told him he had to finish forty-nine sets of homework before she'd go out with him...
He'd pass.
Let whoever wanted to like him go ahead. Us hopeless students had better keep our distance.
Before you continue