Ding, Gryffindor's Otter Mom is Online (Seeking Reads, Seeking Votes)

Hermione frowned, thinking for a moment: "Sorry Harry, I can't think of anything right now..."

The knowledge base of a first-year student was still too shallow; they had only been learning magic for two months.

"No rush." Harry waved his hand, "Focus on recovering."

As he spoke, he stood up.

Hermione's strange sense of déjà vu grew even stronger, and she said in an odd tone: "Not staying a bit longer?"

"You need to rest." Harry's tone was gentle.

Hermione nodded, though somewhat reluctantly: "Alright then, let me think about it. We'll discuss it properly when I go back tomorrow."

Harry gave a hum of agreement and left with Ron.

Ron looked as if he had something to say but held back.

No, it shouldn't be like this.

Madam Pomfrey walked over and pulled the curtain shut again: "Those two friends of yours are truly wonderful. If only all of Gryffindor could be as quiet as them..."

Halfway through her sentence, she noticed the expression on Hermione's face—the little face was all scrunched up—and she hurriedly changed her tune: "What's wrong, Miss Granger? Are you feeling unwell?"

There was nothing wrong with her body, but her heart felt uneasy.

Hermione naturally didn't say much, trying her best to smooth out her expression: "Madam Pomfrey, is it like this when others come to visit patients?"

Madam Pomfrey sighed: "No, they are noisy and boisterous, very lively, but this is the Hospital Wing."

"Patients need quiet rest."

"Stopping by briefly, checking on the condition, and leaving once you're reassured—that is the right way, and it's best for the patient."

"Alright, Miss, get some rest now."

With a swish, she walked out and pulled the curtain.

The knot that had just formed in Hermione's heart immediately unraveled and dissipated because of those words.

By Saturday, Hermione returned to the common room.

The Little Lions looked at her with strange expressions—complex, relieved, incredulous—all very odd, but at least they were no longer ignoring her as they had before.

"What homework did Professor Snape assign?" Hermione sat down next to Harry.

Ron muttered: "An essay on the Swelling Solution, three inches long, damn it. Though Harry has to write eight inches."

"Hermione, I can only rely on you this time, please, please."

He couldn't copy Harry's essay—the requirements were different.

As for picking out the parts he could copy—he was already copying homework, why bother distinguishing what was useful and what wasn't.

Hermione looked at Ron, her expression calm: "So, do you know how to brew the Swelling Solution?"

Although she had missed class and hadn't seen it with her own eyes, based on her understanding of Ron, he likely didn't.

Sure enough, Ron's face stiffened, and he mumbled: "You can't blame me, Fred's second-hand cauldron leaked, the quality is bad."

"You can borrow my cauldron." Hermione tilted her head, "Of course, if you think mine isn't good enough, Harry, would you be willing to lend your cauldron to Ron?"

Harry was writing his essay and didn't even look up as he replied: "No problem, Ron, you know where my cauldron is."

Ron chuckled sheepishly, didn't answer, and buried his head.

Hermione glanced at the other young wizards gathered around the table, gritted her teeth, stood up, and with her one good hand, slammed it hard against the table: "This cannot go on."

"Ron, and all of you, it's like this—you cannot keep copying homework like this!"

Her voice was loud; the last sentence wasn't just for Ron, but for the other first-year students as well. Even some older students not far away turned their gazes over to look at her.

Seamus frowned: "Granger, aren't you overstepping?"

"Harry doesn't have a problem with it."

Harry looked up and gave him a cold glance: "I don't 'not have a problem' with it; I just haven't said anything. I originally intended to only provide it to Ron."

"After all, I can guarantee that he will definitely learn those spells."

"But Ron clearly can't withstand your begging."

Ron felt guilty, turned his head away, and dared not meet Harry's gaze.

Seamus opened his mouth, not knowing what to say.

"Things you copy aren't yours." Seeing Harry back her up, Hermione felt her courage grow, and her voice became more confident: "Finnigan, aside from the Levitation Charm you only learned because Harry helped you, can you guarantee that you can successfully cast other spells every single time?"

Seamus's face stiffened.

"Of course, I can't say you're completely useless." Hermione mimicked the tone of Harry and Snape, adding a hint of sarcasm to her voice: "In the future, if you get into a fight with Slytherin again, you can shove your wand into their noses, cast a spell, and use it as an Exploding Charm."

Seamus's face turned even uglier.

"What about the rest of you?"

"Are you just going to stand on the sidelines and clap while Harry beats up Slytherin all by himself?"

"Gryffindor only has one lion; the rest are just little kittens." She mimicked Malfoy's oily tone.

Ron muttered, "Professor McGonagall is a tabby cat herself."

"That's an Animagus," Hermione gritted her teeth, shooting him a fierce glare. "Only seven people can do that."

"If you can turn into a cat right now, I'll admit you're a lion too!"

"Otherwise, shut up."

Ron obediently raised his hands to cover his mouth.

The little lions' expressions shifted in unison.

They remembered that flying lesson; if it happened again, and it went the same way...

Even upon closer reflection, the first year of Gryffindor was held up entirely by Harry and this Miss Otter they didn't particularly like.

Gryffindor's little kittens.

Such a label, potentially destined to be pinned on them, weighed heavily on their hearts. Looking at Harry's Charms, Transfiguration, and Herbology homework, it didn't seem quite as appealing anymore.

Hermione spread her hands. "If you can put up with that, then go ahead and copy. Use the time you save to ask the upperclassmen how to be a decent cheering squad."

The little lions' faces twisted.

"You don't want to do your homework? Fine, but at least learn how to cast spells and brew potions," Hermione said earnestly. "If you can all manage that and still don't want to do the work, I think I can help you."

"Harry probably wouldn't mind either."

Harry nodded.

After saying the last sentence, Hermione sat back down. Her feet felt weak, and her calves were trembling—this was a method she had pondered all day, the one she felt best suited her to reintegrate into the House.

The words made sense.

But coming from Hermione, the little lions felt somewhat unaccustomed to it; they were being bossed around by Miss Otter with her nose in the air again.

"What do you think, Harry?" Seamus stammered, turning his head toward Harry.

Harry said, "I think what she said makes a lot of sense."

With someone to make the call.

The little lions used "Harry said so" as a pretext to comfort themselves, accepted Hermione's terms, and began counting on their fingers what they knew and what they didn't, asking Hermione for guidance.

The other little lions lined up, waiting for pointers.

Just like that, she was reintegrated into Gryffindor.

Once Hermione finished dealing with the group of little lions.

Harry finished his homework and tossed it onto the table. "Well done, Hermione."

"Thank you," Hermione's face flushed slightly. "It was you who reminded me."

She then hurriedly changed the subject. "Let's talk about the trial. Slytherin is like us; they need a password to get in, and the password changes."

"The password isn't the problem," Harry shook his head.

Hermione was taken aback.

Harry raised his hand. "Remember the spell I used on Malfoy? I can use it to make someone from Slytherin tell me the password themselves."

Hermione was puzzled. "Then why not just do that?"

"I need to go over there to take something," Harry sighed. "And I need to take a portrait of Slytherin."

Wizarding portraits can talk.

He could sneak in using the Invisibility Cloak after learning the password—but the moment he tried to steal the portrait, it would cause a commotion...

If the little snakes swarmed out, even he would find it difficult to walk out of the Slytherin common room unscathed.

Even if he did leave.

It would be hard to deal with Snape, and he would inevitably have to return the portrait.

"My idea is, is there any way I can turn into a Slytherin student and, under the guise of Snape's tone, take the portrait away?"

"Most importantly, I need to be able to take it and still get out."

Hermione frowned. "Turn into a Slytherin student... wait... I have an idea."

She stood up and headed to her dormitory, returning shortly with a book. "I saw it in the Modern Witchcraft Development Encyclopedia."

"Look at this passage."

Harry and Ron leaned their heads in.

"...He was a Metamorphmagus, capable of changing his own appearance and form at will, which made him invincible in Auror operations..."

Hermione read the passage aloud. "Harry, perhaps you could try to learn this magic called Metamorphmagus."

Harry shook his head. "That's innate; it can't be learned later in life."

Hermione's face turned red, and she hurriedly slammed the book shut; if Ron hadn't reacted quickly, his fingers would have been crushed.

"And even if I could learn it," Harry continued, "it's a spell on the same level as an Animagus. I wouldn't be able to learn it anytime soon."

Hermione sighed, looking somewhat disappointed: "Fine, let me think about it some more."

She thought for a long while.

She stood up, her tone firm: "We need to go to the library; sitting here won't help us come up with any good ideas."

"Come on, it's the weekend," Ron said, sounding reluctant, "and it's very late now."

Hermione looked at Harry.

"Let's do it tomorrow," Harry said, "you just got out of the hospital wing."

Hermione sat back down obediently.

"Hermione, let me ask you a question. Do you know what the Sorcerer's Stone is?" Ron sat up straight, his tone serious.

Hermione looked confused: "The Sorcerer's Stone? I don't know... why are you asking about that?"

Ron spoke mysteriously: "The Sorcerer's Stone might be hidden on the fourth floor."

"So what? That's the forbidden area; there's no reason for us to care about what's kept in there," Hermione said dismissively.

Ron lowered his voice: "Quirrell might be trying to steal the Sorcerer's Stone."

"Who?" Hermione's eyes widened, and she stared at Ron in astonishment.

Ron hurriedly tugged on her sleeve: "Keep your voice down."

"Oh, no, I'm just surprised," Hermione lowered her head as well, leaning in toward Harry, "How could it be Professor Quirrell? Even if it were a professor, shouldn't it be Professor Snape..."

Harry rubbed his forehead helplessly: "Why do you two have such a huge misunderstanding about Professor Snape?"

"It's true, Hermione."

"Dumbledore and I have both confirmed it."

Hermione breathed a sigh of relief and glared at Ron: "Since the Headmaster already knows, it's even less of our concern. Right now, the most important thing is Harry's trial!"

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