“Another excellent example. Gamp’s Law prevents us from doing that.”
“Gamp’s Law?” This had to be the setup for a new concept.
She had seen similar teaching tricks before—like explaining calculus with a story about a tortoise and an arrow.
“Not important right now,” Harry said.
“Another one?”
She was starting to enjoy this.
“The bottle labeled ‘Drink Me’ that makes Alice shrink.”
Harry’s face broke into a wide grin.
“Well done, Miss Granger.”
Despite herself, Hermione felt a familiar rush of satisfaction at getting a question right—even if she didn’t fully understand what she was right about.
This entire line of questioning was strange.
Harry reached into his pocket and produced a small bottle of acid-green liquid.
He placed it on the desk.
A tiny label on it read: Drink Me.
She stared at it, her confusion deepening.
“Miss Granger,” Harry said, drawing her attention back to him, “do you ever notice strange things happening around you?”
“W-what do you mean?” she asked, but she already knew.
The discussion of shrinking and impossible changes had dragged her thoughts back to those moments—those incidents her rational mind always tried desperately to suppress and forget.
“You answered the last question correctly. Let’s try a harder one. Give me an example from your own life where something happened that defied logic.”
Hermione’s breathing grew shallow and rapid.
He couldn’t possibly be talking about those times.
If she admitted something so ridiculous, he would think she was insane.
Harry reached over and took her hand in his.
“It’s okay, Hermione. You know what I’m talking about.”
When the words finally came, her voice was quiet and timid.
“I was being bullied at school. They took my books and threw them across the playground. They started hitting me. The next thing I knew, they were all thrown backward. Some of them were badly hurt.”
Harry nodded and gestured for her to continue.
“Another time, I really wanted a book from a shop. I was standing outside looking through the window, and suddenly I was holding it in my hands. I was so scared of being caught stealing that I dropped it and ran.”
Her breath hitched, her voice turning urgent.
“What is? Do you know what’s happening to me? How these things keep happening?”
Harry produced an ornate wooden stick and waved it at the door.
“I do know.” He was smiling now.
“Because I’m like you. You are special, Hermione. You have the talent.”
“Talent?” Her nails dug into her palms.
“Magic.”
“Magic?”
“You are part of a secret community of witches and wizards. People who use magic in their everyday lives to achieve things the non-magical world can only dream of.”
Her teacher pointed the stick at the lampshade on her desk.
It smoothly morphed into a vase.
Her body relaxed.
She stared in pure wonder.
“Normally, because your parents aren’t magical, you wouldn’t begin your magical education until you were eleven, but…”
“But?” she whispered.
“You are special even among witches and wizards, Hermione. You have the potential to become one of the greatest witches of all time. A true prodigy.”
A prodigy.
She had always dreamed of being one.
“But,” Harry continued.
“But?” she echoed.
“Do you remember the scene in the book where Alice grows enormous in the courtroom?”
Hermione nodded.
“Do you remember what the Dormouse tells her?”
She nodded again.
“That she had no right to grow so large and was taking up all the air.”
“And what did the King and Queen order?”
“They said Rule Forty-Two states that anyone more than a mile high must leave the court.”
“The magical world can be like that sometimes. I want to teach you, Hermione, but it will have to be in secret—for now, and even after we start school together.”
“School?”
“At eleven, we will attend a magical school called Hogwarts along with most of the other witches and wizards in Britain. By then, you will have more than caught up with the students who have lived with magic their whole lives.”
Magic was real.
She had just seen it.
And she could learn it.
It was like every fantasy book she had ever read come to life.
And… catch up… Yes.
She had to catch up.
“When do we start?” Enthusiasm radiated from her like sunlight.
“Right now. We’ll go over your curriculum for the next two and a half years—what I want to teach you, and why.”
She nodded eagerly.
“But first, a few more demonstrations of what lies on the other side of the looking glass. Sound good?”
Her eyes gleamed as they darted toward the innocent-looking bottle of acid-green liquid still sitting on the desk.
“Yes, Harry.”
≤○≥
Three months had passed since their training began.
Hermione sat cross-legged on the floor.
Harry sat opposite her.
She was nervous.
Occlumency was fascinating.
She could feel her mastery over her own mind growing stronger with every session.
Homework that once took an hour was now finished in fifteen minutes.
Revision for tests had become almost laughably easy—one careful pass through the material, neatly filed away in her mental library, was all she needed.
She suddenly had far more time to practice.
Her willpower had improved as well.
Before, she had to force herself away from her books to do things she knew she should.
Now she could prioritize tasks with clear, rational thought.
Harry had even started her on a physical exercise regimen—”It helps the body process magic better,” he had explained.
She had expected it to be miserable, but retreating into her Occlumency made it surprisingly tolerable.