Regarding Gryffindor's trial, Hermione was even more invested than Harry.
Early the next morning.
Ron was dreaming of devouring a tableful of chicken legs when the world suddenly turned upside down, jolting him half-awake. "What happened?"
He cracked one eye open. A bandaged chicken leg loomed in front of him, making him jump and shrink back. He slammed into the wall and woke up completely. Looking up again, he finally saw what the "chicken leg" really was—Hermione's injured hand, and her perfectly serious face. "Oh, Hermione. What are you doing here?"
"Get up. We're going to the library," Hermione replied. "Where's Harry? I didn't see him in his bed."
"Working out." Ron yawned and picked up the alarm clock by his bed. "It's only half past six, Hermione! I don't even get up this early on school days!"
Hermione scolded him. "Look at Harry. He's gone to exercise, while all you know how to do is sleep."
A few pained groans followed.
"Ron, you're so noisy," Seamus muttered, thumping his bed. "Keep it down and let me sleep."
Neville grumbled, "I must be having a nightmare. Why can I still hear Granger's voice? For heaven's sake, make it stop."
Yesterday, Hermione had given him the worst scolding of all.
He'd done very well in Herbology, but his other classes... hadn't gone so well.
There were plenty of spells he couldn't cast. He could explain the theory perfectly, and could even be called the best student after Hermione and Harry, but no matter what, he just couldn't make the spells work.
Hermione had spent over an hour lecturing him.
Even after he'd returned to the dormitory, her voice had continued to ring in his ears.
Hermione looked up. Unable to see Neville, she glared fiercely at Ron. "I'll wait outside. Hurry up. Harry will be back soon."
Ron clutched his blanket in despair.
No...
He didn't want to get up. He wanted to spend the rest of his life with this bed.
When Harry returned, he saw Hermione sitting in the common room, full of energy, and Ron looking utterly listless. He paused—after all, it was the weekend.
"You're up early," Harry said.
Hermione stood and put one hand on her hip. "We can go to the library now."
"Maybe we should have breakfast first?" Harry ventured.
Ron sprang to his feet. "Food, food!"
"Hermione, we won't have the energy to read if we don't eat."
Hermione hesitated, then agreed.
They went from the Seventh Floor to the Great Hall, then from the Great Hall to the fifth floor.
Madam Pince yawned and looked at the three of them in surprise. Oh... aside from fifth- and seventh-years, were there really young wizards who came to the library voluntarily on a weekend, this early in the morning?
Hermione had only one hand, but she moved nimbly when it came to books.
Ron got busy too. He planned to start with books on alchemy, looking for disguising items and, while he was at it, information about the Sorcerer's Stone.
Harry was more casual about it.
He planned to look for information on Dumbledore first—Dumbledore still owed him a reward.
The greatest white wizard of the century had a record that was almost entirely public.
Master of Dark Magic defense, master of Transfiguration, master of alchemy...
The titles attached to his name were dazzling.
Learning from him was clearly the best choice.
As he read on, Harry's gaze suddenly sharpened.
One line read: "Dumbledore is the only person known in the wizarding world to have a Patronus in the form of a magical creature. No one knows how he mastered this magic."
Harry knew about the Patronus Charm. He'd read about it before. It was hailed as one of the most powerful spells and the one most representative of white magic.
But most people's Patronuses were ordinary animals—supposedly, wizards who could transform into an Animagus form had Patronuses that matched it.
If Dumbledore could become an Animagus, was his Animagus form a phoenix?
Harry closed the book.
He made up his mind: he was going to learn it.
It wasn't until evening that Ron exclaimed, "I found it!"
Madam Pince shot him a glare.
Hermione and Harry both leaned over to look.
Ron instinctively raised a hand to cover the book in front of him.
Hermione sounded impatient. "Move your hand. Let me see what you found."
Ron stammered and hesitated, but Hermione still snatched the book away from him.
The first line that met their eyes read: "Ancient alchemy involved the creation of the Sorcerer's Stone, a remarkable substance with astonishing properties. The Sorcerer's Stone can turn any metal into pure gold and also produce the Elixir of Life, which makes whoever drinks it immortal."
Hermione froze as anger surged through her. She crumpled the piece of parchment beside her, hurled it at Ron's head, and gritted her teeth. "We're looking for a way to disguise ourselves, and you're still thinking about the Sorcerer's Stone?"
Ron looked guilty. "I was looking for a way to disguise ourselves. I just found this first, that's all."
With a smack, Hermione shut the book and handed it to Harry. "Get back to looking, or you can forget about copying my homework."
Ron wasn't worried. Hermione wasn't the main source of his homework anyway.
Harry chimed in. "Same goes for me."
Ron's face fell. He took a deep breath. "Oh, no! Don't do this. I'll look properly."
Information about disguising magic was much harder to find than information on Dumbledore. They came up empty-handed that day.
In fact, they wouldn't find much of anything for quite some time.
They fell into the same routine day after day.
Classes, meals, hours in the library.
Even the Ravenclaw students had a hard time keeping up with them.
Ron had almost developed an aversion to the library. Now, just hearing the word "library" made his stomach ache and turned his stomach.
In Charms, they also began learning their first spell with offensive properties.
"Firework Charm."
With a wave of the wand, it summoned a cool blue flame. Professor Flitwick said this spell was a prerequisite for the "Incendio" charm they would learn in the upper years.
The spell wasn't difficult for Harry.
But it was important to him—he'd discovered the greatest difference in the fundamental nature of magic between the two worlds.
In the Witcher world, magic was like a catalyst. It guided the elements and released spells. The Sign "Igni" that he had mastered, for example, used magic to draw on the element of fire and produce its effects.
But in this world, magic was the essence itself.
From the moment it appeared until it vanished, this pale blue flame was nothing but magic—unless it clung to something flammable. Only when the magic faded would the flame left on that object become a real fire.
So that night...
Was that why the other Signs had no effect on the Troll, while Igni had worked?
Harry suddenly understood. He vaguely felt he'd grasped something, but his understanding of magic was still too incomplete for him to develop the idea properly.
For the other young wizards, the spell seemed rather difficult.
Even Hermione struggled to cast it smoothly.
She went back and practiced with Harry for a long time before she finally managed to cast the spell successfully.
The other young wizards lined up to ask Hermione for help. That delayed their search for disguising magic once again, giving Ron a brief reprieve from having to go to the library every day. He was truly grateful for that.
Something new came up every day to delay their plans.
Then, two days before Christmas.
Hermione finally found it. Excited, she opened a book and laid it in front of Harry. "Harry, look at this. It's exactly what we need."
"Polyjuice Potion."
"Add something from the person you want to turn into—a hair or a fingernail—and drink it. For an hour, you can take on that person's appearance."
Harry frowned. "I didn't find this in any of the Potions books."
Hermione shook her head. "It's something that comes up in the O.W.L.s. I only found it while looking through exam materials. I'm afraid we'll have to go to the Restricted Section to find the recipe."
As she spoke, she leaned forward and glanced toward the Restricted Section, which was separated off by nothing more than a single rope.
"Then we'll need a professor's permission," Ron sighed. "And we don't even know which book has this... potion in it."
"Potent Potion," Hermione replied.
Ron said, "What?"
Hermione waved a hand. "It's in this book, Potent Potion. It says so right here. Didn't you see?"
"Professor McGonagall likes you. Should we ask her?" Ron immediately turned to Harry.
Harry shook his head and answered firmly. "Professor McGonagall is out of the question. During detention, she's been very careful about teaching me second-year material."
"I'd sooner believe Professor Snape would be willing to sign a note for me."
"Second-year material!" Hermione exclaimed. "Professor McGonagall gave you detention to teach you second-year material?"
Harry nodded. "Yes."
Hermione bit her lip, her eyes full of envy. "Professor McGonagall is so unfair. Oh, no, I mean... I wish I could do that too."
"Maybe you could ask Professor McGonagall," Harry suggested sincerely.
Hermione hesitated. "I'd better not. You're better at Transfiguration than I am."
"Let's get back to how we're going to obtain the Potent Potion."
Harry thought for a moment. He studied the rope, sensing it carefully, but couldn't detect any trace of magic. "Actually, I have a good idea."
Hermione leaned closer. "Hmm?"
"The Restricted Section doesn't seem to have any magical protection," Harry said in a low voice. "I have an Invisibility Cloak. We could try copying down the recipe at night."
Ron's eyes widened. "An Invisibility Cloak? You have one?"
"What's that?" Hermione asked, confused.
Ron excitedly explained, "It's an incredibly precious, incredibly rare magical item that can make you invisible. Harry, how did you get something like that?"
Harry replied simply, "It belonged to my father."
The excitement on Ron's face froze, then slowly faded. He became awkward and flustered. "Oh, I didn't realize. I'm sorry, Harry."
What was there to apologize for?
His parents were gone. It was a fact, and he'd never tried to deny it.
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