Today is Hermione's birthday.
Miss Granger received many gifts.
But Miss Granger was still somewhat unhappy.
Her roommates, Parvati and Lavender, gave her a Spells.
It was a gift that I expected.
Hermione liked the Spells and thanked them profusely.
Ron gave her a set of Wizard's Chess.
In Wizard's Chess, all pieces are living, talking animals, and each piece has its own unique way of capturing. For example, the Queen will smash the opponent's head off with the chair she sits on, and the Knight will stab the opponent through with his sword.
To be honest, Hermione doesn't really like violent games.
But this is still better than receiving a pile of dragon dung.
So she thanked Ron as well.
And Harry, he gave Hermione a quill pen.
It was a very practical gift, and Hermione expressed her sincere gratitude.
However, while her friends' gifts made her happy, the person she missed most didn't send her a gift.
In fact, she hadn't seen Silan all day.
Silan didn't come to the classroom during the last History of Magic class, even after it was over.
This made Hermione often stare blankly at the empty seat next to her, and she didn't even have the energy to raise her hand to answer questions.
"Something's wrong with today's class, something's really wrong," Ron whispered to Harry beside him.
Harry asked, "What's wrong? Professor Binns didn't come back to life."
"That's not what I meant." Ron stroked his chin and voiced his guess. "It was Hermione. She didn't answer a single question the entire class and didn't get a single point."
"This is really not right."
Harry realized the seriousness of the situation and frowned, saying, "She must be sick."
"Maybe he's gone mad." Ron winked at Harry and whispered, "Didn't you notice Silan isn't here?"
"I guess she's thinking about Silan... Oh, she's here."
Hermione absentmindedly packed her books, clutched them to her chest, frowned, and walked towards the classroom door with her head down.
As she walked past Harry, who was blocking her way, Hermione said without looking up, "Excuse me, Lavender, could you please let me through?"
After saying that, she hugged her book and squeezed past Harry.
He doesn't seem to be in a good mood.
Harry watched her retreating figure and asked, somewhat puzzled, "Why did she mistake me for Lavender? Do I look like a girl?"
Ron chuckled and said, "Probably because of Lockhart? He made you play the ghost way too many times in class."
Noticing the strange look in Harry's eyes, Ron quickly changed his tune, saying, "This is already good enough, at least you weren't mistaken for Gnome, were you?"
Hermione walked out of the classroom, carrying her books, and headed towards the Room of Requirement.
Her feelings were somewhat complicated.
The joy of receiving gifts, gratitude to her friends, and guilt of thinking about Silan while receiving gifts from her friends were all intertwined in her heart.
However, the dominant concern remains the worry about Silan.
She was more worried about Silan herself than about the gift.
In her memory, Silan had never missed a class before.
Even Professor Binns's dry and boring History of Magic classes, he never missed a single one.
What exactly happened today?
"Could it be that he's sick? Or... no way!"
Hermione's chaotic thoughts hindered her steps, making her stumble and stagger.
When Hermione returned to the Room of Requirement, she hadn't even had time to put the book down before she looked through the entire place.
The lounge was empty, the study was empty, the restroom was empty...
After searching around, Hermione finally found Silan in the Alchemy Workshop.
Through the window, she saw Silan working intently at her desk, her face serious and her whole being tense.
Because of the obstruction of some miscellaneous tools, Hermione couldn't see what Silan was doing.
But she knew that this estimate was some very important work.
So she didn't go in, but just stood outside and waited.
Upon seeing Silan, Hermione's earlier tension and worry vanished instantly.
"It's good that Silan is alright."
Hermione thought to herself, secretly relieved.
Instead of waiting idly, she sat on a bench outside the Alchemy Workshop and began to read.
In the gaps of time, she managed to finish what she needed to do.
After an unknown amount of time, Silan finally emerged from the Alchemy Workshop.
"Silan?" Hermione closed her book, stood up from her chair, walked over to him, and asked, "Are you done?"
"I guess so." Silan slowly exhaled, the effects of the invigorating Potions wearing off, and a wave of fatigue washing over her.
"You..."
Hermione was about to speak when Silan suddenly lost his footing and almost fell into her arms.
"Watch out!" Hermione cried out in alarm, reaching out to hug Silan and asking with concern, "Are you alright, Silan?"
"I'm just a little tired..." Silan said softly, without getting up.
In order to replicate the magical ritual of the rooster crowing, he spent several days observing the flow of magic in the rooster coop.
Creating alchemical tools requires both incantations and inscriptions, which is extremely mentally taxing.
There were only two Refined Essences left, so Silan had to be cautious.
To achieve the best results, he conducted experiments with other materials beforehand, and only used the smelting essence after it was almost successful.
Even so, it still failed once.
One of the essences exploded directly on the table, and even with [Tough Skin] applied, a bloody gash appeared on his forehead.
The intense mental strain, the all-night work to create alchemical tools, and the injury to his forehead all contributed to his somewhat disheveled appearance.
But not to the point that his legs went weak.
So, he's faking it halfway.
Hermione hugged him tightly, her voice choked with emotion, "Let me help you to rest."
"Mmm." Silan nodded weakly.
The two huddled together and returned to the Rest Room.
Hermione helped Silan to bed, then sat down on the edge of the bed.
The moment she touched the bed, Silan felt even more exhausted.
"Go to sleep, Silan, I'm here," Hermione said.
Silan closed her eyes, rolled over in bed, and rested her head on Hermione's lap.
Hermione stiffened, a little embarrassed. "She- Silan?"
"Thank you, Hermione..."
The last syllable was almost inaudible.
Silan is asleep.
A soft, slanting light shone through the glass dome outside, falling on Silan like a petal.
It was probably already evening outside.
After the rain, the orange sunset, even just looking at its color, gives one a sense of warmth.
The afterglow of the setting sun fell on Silan's face, making his originally pale complexion appear much more gentle.
Silan rested her head on Hermione's lap, the real, warm weight making her feel safe and secure.
Noticing the faint red mark on Silan's forehead, Hermione frowned slightly, her fingers trembling as she reached out to touch the scar.
But in the end, it was taken back.
As she retrieved it, Hermione's fingers curved slightly, gently brushing aside the stray hairs on Silan's forehead.
Then, she lowered her head.