My feelings are complicated, so my Patronus changing ten times a second makes sense, right?

But that wasn't the end of it.

Hermione raised her wand, closed one eye, and aimed at a Slytherin player, tracking him with the tip of her wand.

Marcus's eyes widened.

What are you going to do?!

He couldn't take it anymore and flew straight over to the referee, Madam Hooch.

"Referee!"

Marcus pointed at Hermione. "Doesn't that count as a foul?!"

"Look at her waving her wand around over there! Hey, hey, hey, look! There's green light coming out of the tip!"

Marcus paled in fright and ducked behind Madam Hooch.

Madam Hooch glanced at Hermione and said impatiently, "What business is it of yours if she's holding a wand in the stands? She hasn't cast any magic."

"No, but she might Avada me!"

"Then we'll talk when she does. The Ministry of Magic will punish her," Madam Hooch said, rolling her eyes. "Could you please get on with the match? Stop whispering to the referee. People will think I'm rigging it."

Aren't you already rigging it?!

Marcus screamed inwardly, on the verge of tears.

After that, Hermione tossed a hammer one moment and a knife the next. Whenever Slytherin was about to get the ball, they felt a chill above their heads.

As Gryffindor scored goal after goal, Hermione exhausted the contents of her pockets and began rummaging around with her head down.

"Huh, is there anything else I can throw..."

Hermione peered into her bottomless backpack, muttering under her breath.

"There's nothing left to throw..."

Three listless voices spoke in unison.

Hermione turned to find Ron, Neville, and Seamus beside her. At some point, tools had piled up on their heads and bodies, and they looked as though they had lost the will to live.

"Huh? What's wrong with you guys?"

Hermione looked puzzled.

The three exchanged