She carefully placed the volume back on the shelf and looked around the trunk that had become her second home over the past ten months.
So much knowledge.
Harry’s goal had been for her to absorb a lifetime’s worth of pureblood education in a single year, and she had risen to the challenge.
The more she had read, the more she understood exactly what she was stepping into.
The magical world was terrifying.
But it was also… well… magical.
And she wasn’t overly worried.
She had Harry.
Harry was incredible.
When she had first seen him perform wandless magic or casually transfigure a lamp into a vase, she had been amazed by magic itself.
The more she learned, however, the more she realized just how extraordinary Harry was.
He was a true prodigy… and Lord Slytherin.
And she was his student, under his protection.
She hoped she would one day prove herself worthy of his house.
She had ambition in abundance, but cunning?
That was something she would have to work on.
“You finished?” a voice called from the trapdoor above.
“Yes, Harry.”
“Great! Two months early, too.”
She beamed with pride.
“I think someone has earned herself a reward.”
“Ooh!”
She was learning, and Harry was pleased with her.
All was right with the world.
≤○≥
Hermione was worried.
“A party?”
It was two months after she had finished the massive reading project.
“This is your test,” Harry said.
“You’re going to attend one of my political gatherings while assuming a different identity. Your goal is to convincingly play the part of a pureblood witch from New Zealand.” Read the latest chapters at novelping(.)com.
“B-but… what if I’m found out? What if they realize? What if I embarrass you?”
It all sounded far too much like the dramatic plots from one of the romance novels she had devoured during her ‘ten months of reading.’
“You’ll be disguised,” Harry reassured her.
“No one will know who you really are—even if you slip up. I’ll be there in disguise as well, ready to step in if things go badly. This is important for your education, Hermione. I need to know you can handle yourself in these situations.”
She bit her lower lip anxiously.
“But what about dress robes? And jewellery? They’ll expect me to have all of that, and I don’t. And what about my age? These political parties are for grown-ups.”
Harry smiled and held up a small vial of shimmering green liquid.
≤○≥
Ten-year-old Hermione Granger stood before the full-length mirror and stared.
Twenty-two-year-old Hermione Granger stared back.
Plain.
Boring.
Bookish.
Those words had haunted her throughout her school days.
Her bushy hair had always been untameable, and her teeth far too large.
The other children had called her “beaver face.”
She reached out and gently touched the mirror.
The reflection’s hair was calmer—still curling softly at the ends, but otherwise sleek and controlled.
Her teeth fit her face perfectly.
The baby fat had melted away, leaving elegant, symmetrical, and dignified features.
She looked like one of the models from the magazines her classmates were always giggling over.
She was beautiful.
Was this what she would look like in twelve years?
A soft pop beside her made her jump.
“Is Missy Grangy ready to be dressed?” asked the female house-elf.
Another thing she would have to get used to.
“Oh—yes, please. Thank you, Tropsy.”
Half an hour later, she stood before the mirror once more.
A floor-length emerald-green dress hugged her hourglass figure perfectly, complemented by the snake-embellished choker and earrings Harry had lent her for the occasion. This chapter was copied from novelping dot com without permission.
“I told you that you were amazing.”
She turned at the sound of her best friend and teacher’s voice.
Her breath caught in her throat.
Harry looked incredible.
His shoulders were broad, and even beneath the layers of formal dress robes, his tall frame was clearly well-muscled.
His face had lost its boyish softness, leaving strong, defined features.
Deep inside, she felt something she had never experienced before.
A strange, tingling warmth.
“You look pretty good yourself,” she said, then immediately blushed.
Had she really just said that?
Harry chuckled.
He waved his wand over his face, transfiguring it into the private persona of Lord Slytherin, then slipped on an emerald-green mask—his public face.
He offered her his arm.
She took it, the strange feeling still fluttering in her chest.
Together, they walked toward the main doors.
≤○≥
Charlotte Timberland—secretly Hermione Granger—stood in a small circle of adult witches and wizards, doing her best to remain composed.
She had just quoted one of the classic tales from her intensive ten months of reading.
“I must say,” remarked one of the wizards, “it’s refreshing to meet a young lady so well-versed in our literature.”
“Indeed,” added another.
“So many of today’s youth seem to think they can get by with nothing but loud explosions and puffs of smoke.”
“Where in New Zealand did you say you were from, dear?” asked one witch.
“Auckland.”
They all nodded with the polite expression of people who had no idea where that was but weren’t about to admit it.
“It must be wonderful to be a friend of Lord Slytherin,” the witch continued, clearly fishing for gossip.
“It is certainly… educational,” Hermione replied carefully.
The witch glanced around before leaning in, lowering her voice so only their group could hear.
“Tell me, have you ever seen his face? Is he handsome?”