Over the next few days, Hogwarts felt a little strange to Hermione Granger.
Rayleigh Stark had vanished.
Not in the literal sense—he still showed up to class right on time, bursting through the classroom doors just as the bell chimed, under the complicated gazes of the professors.
But the second the bell rang at the end of class, he vanished into thin air.
“I’m positive he’s hiding something!” Ron grumbled incoherently around a mouth full of chicken leg.
“It makes no sense.
I turn my head for one second, and boom—he’s gone from his seat!” Hermione pushed away the mountain of books in front of her, speaking in a tone dripping with irritation.
“I searched the entire library, lifted every single cushion on every couch in the Gryffindor common room, and even asked you to check the boys’ dormitory—and still nothing!” Harry set down his knife and fork, looking at his two friends with a hint of concern.
“Do you think…
something happened to him?” “What could possibly happen to him?” Hermione’s temper flared instantly.
“If you ask me, he’s either cooking up another absurd money-making scheme or hiding away to slack off!
He hasn’t handed in his spell practice homework yet, and Professor McGonagall’s Transfiguration essay is way past due!” The more she talked, the angrier she got, feeling her blood pressure spiking.
Meanwhile, the subject of their conversation was currently in a completely different world.
Inside a dark, dingy catacomb, the stench of decay was so thick it was almost tangible.
Rayleigh panted heavily as his Fireball slammed squarely into the forehead of the last remaining zombie, blowing it into a shower of flying meat and gore.
[EXP +15] [Current Level: 11 (89%)] “Damn it!” Rayleigh cursed softly and plopped onto the cold stone floor.
Just a tiny bit more!
With just a tiny sliver of experience, he would reach Level 12 and finally equip that dream weapon of his: the [Staff of Bursting Fireballs]!
He had been grinding in here almost continuously for three days without sleep.
Whenever he had a free moment in the real world, he immediately plunged into the world of Diablo, grinding like a mindless mob-killing machine, clearing out Tristram and the Catacombs over and over again.
Exhaustion washed over his nerves in relentless waves.
But he couldn’t stop.
Just thinking about the stats on that god-tier staff made his heart race with fiery anticipation.
“One more wave…
just one more…” Muttering to himself, he downed another Mana Potion, unsteadily pushing himself to his feet to hunt down the next group of unfortunate undead.
…
Dinner at the Gryffindor table had a rather tense atmosphere.
Hermione’s anger had reached a boiling point; she glared at her glass of pumpkin juice as if trying to stare bubbles into it.
Right then, a wraithlike figure drifted over and slumped heavily into the empty seat beside Harry.
Rayleigh’s eyes were dull, framed by massive dark circles.
He radiated a lazy, exhausted vibe that clearly communicated: *Stay away, strangers—and friends, don’t talk to me either.* Picking up his utensils, he stuffed food into his mouth like a machine, his eyes half-closed and his head bobbing up and down as if he might pass out right into his plate at any second.
“Rayleigh Stark!” Unable to take it anymore, Hermione slammed her palm onto the table, making the silverware rattle.
Surrounding students turned to look.
Rayleigh jolted awake, nearly spitting out a bite of roast potato.
Blinking bleariness from his eyes, he raised his head to look at an irate Hermione.
“Huh?
Boss Hermione…
what’s up?” “What’s up?
You have the nerve to ask me what’s up?” Hermione exploded completely.
She stood up, hands on her hips, glaring down at him.
“Where on earth have you been these past few days?
Look at the state of you!
Have you been sneaking out at night again?
Scavenging in the Forbidden Forest again?” Ron and Harry cowered back, terrified of getting caught in Hermione’s crossfire.
“No…” Rayleigh mumbled, letting out a massive yawn.
“I’m just…
a little tired.” “Tired?
I think you’ve completely lost your mind!” Hermione raised her voice several pitches higher.
“Where’s your homework?!
Your Potions essay!
Your Transfiguration reading!
And what about practicing spells together like we agreed?
Where were you?
You stood me up three whole times!
Three times!” She held up three fingers, practically poking them into Rayleigh’s nose.
Rayleigh’s head throbbed from her shouting.
Overwhelmed by exhaustion, he couldn’t even assemble a coherent argument to defend himself.
“I…
I was wrong…” He resorted to the ultimate defense mechanism: an immediate apology.
“You were wrong?
When *don’t* you admit you’re wrong?
And when do you ever actually change?” Hermione wasn’t buying it for a second.
Seeing Rayleigh about to be drowned in Hermione’s fury, Harry finally plucked up the courage to step in.
“Um…
Hermione,” Harry said softly.
“Let him eat first.
He looks like he’s about to pass out from hunger.” He then turned to Rayleigh, a mixture of nervousness and anticipation on his face.
“Rayleigh…
tomorrow is my first Quidditch match, against Slytherin.
I was hoping…
I was hoping you’d come cheer for me.” Harry’s voice wasn’t loud, but it successfully diverted the heat.
Hermione’s rage paused for a moment.
Rayleigh, who was currently having his ear pinched by Hermione and wincing in pain, nodded frantically at Harry’s words.
“I’m going!
Absolutely going!
I’ll definitely be there!” He promised loudly.
“I’ll wave flags and cheer for you!
I’ll lead the jeering!
I guarantee I’ll take that arrogant Malfoy down a peg or two!” “That’s more like it.” Harry finally let out a sigh of relief.
However, before Rayleigh could celebrate for even two seconds, Hermione hauled him up right out of his seat.
“Finished eating?
If you’re done, come with me!” “Huh?
Where to?” Rayleigh asked, utterly bewildered, a half-eaten chicken leg still in his hand.
“Did you forget?
Tomorrow night!
Professor McGonagall is giving you one-on-one Transfiguration tutoring!” Hermione said, exasperated beyond measure.
“With your pathetic skill level right now, do you *want* Professor McGonagall to turn you straight into a slug?” Only then did Rayleigh remember—oh right, there *was* such a thing.
Hermione gave him no time to react, dragging him along like a sack of potatoes as they hurried out of the Great Hall under the astonished gazes of everyone present.
She certainly didn’t want to hear Rayleigh say tomorrow, “Hermione tutored me in Transfiguration.” That would make her reputation as a top student look completely unreliable if she couldn’t even teach an idiot like him.
Pulling the half-asleep Rayleigh along, Hermione found an abandoned, empty classroom in the castle.
With a sharp *thwack*, she shut the door, and quiet descended on the room.
“Alright!
Starting now: turn a button into a beetle!” Hermione ordered, pointing at a battered desk near the front of the classroom.
“Huh?” Rayleigh rubbed his eyes, the buttons in front of him blurring together.
“Right now?” “Right now!
Immediately!
At once!” Hermione said with total authority.
“The incantation is *Vera Verto*.
Hold your wand like this, draw a ‘V’ in the air, and tap three times lightly!
Hurry!” Rayleigh yawned and limply drew his wand.
“*Vera Verto!*” A faint white light flashed.
The desk shuddered, and one of its legs turned into a curly, pink pig’s tail that twitched in the air.
“I told you to turn a button into a beetle!
Where were you pointing?!” Hermione roared like an enraged lioness.
“Though…
I suppose it’s something.
At least part of the desk has a pig feature now,” Hermione consoled herself, not wanting to be overly harsh on him.
“Again!
Focus!
Since you want to turn the desk into a pig, picture a proper pig in your head!” “I’m so sleepy, Hermione…” Rayleigh felt as if his eyelids weighed a ton.
“The only thing in my mind right now is a pillow and a bed…” “No sleeping!” Hermione marched over to him and clapped him hard on the back.
“Wake up!
Think of Professor McGonagall’s stern face!
Think of how disgusting it would be if you got turned into a slug!” Under Hermione’s strict supervision, Rayleigh reluctantly practiced a few more times.
But each attempt was worse than the last.
The desk sprouted a pig snout one moment and two pig ears the next, but it refused to turn into a complete pig.
On his final try, Rayleigh lost consciousness halfway through the incantation, leaning straight onto Hermione’s shoulder and letting out soft snores.
He had fallen fast asleep.
Hermione froze solid.
The boy’s warm breath brushed softly against her neck, sending a light tickle across her skin.
She could smell the subtle scent of grass and old book pages on him, mixed with a faint trace of…
sweat?
“Rayleigh?” she called out in a low voice.
“Wake up!
No sleeping!” She gently shifted her shoulder, wanting to push him off.
Instead, as if finding an even more comfortable position, Rayleigh tilted his head, slid down her shoulder, and rested squarely in her lap.
At that, Hermione’s face flushed bright red in an instant.
The blush surged from the base of her neck all the way to the tips of her ears.
She stared down at Rayleigh, who was resting peacefully in her lap, her heart hammering wildly against her ribs.
What should she do?
Wake him up?
But he looked so terribly exhausted, with dark circles practically matching a panda’s.
Leave him be?
But…
what on earth was this?!
*I’m just…
I just feel sorry for my friend.
He’s so tired, I can’t bring myself to wake him, that’s all,* Hermione told herself in her head, trying hard to make her logic sound completely sound.
Yes, exactly that.
Pure, grand, indestructible friendship!
Though she thought this, her body remained completely still.
She even carefully adjusted Rayleigh’s head so he could lie a little more comfortably.
Minutes ticked by.
The only sound left in the room was the steady rhythm of their breathing.
Leaning back against the chair, Hermione looked down at Rayleigh’s sleeping face.
Her anger had melted away unnoticed, replaced by a complex emotion she couldn’t quite put into words.
It was only when the castle chimes rang, signaling that curfew was approaching, that Hermione steeled her heart and gave Rayleigh a gentle shake.
“Rayleigh, wake up!
Curfew’s almost here!” Rayleigh opened his eyes blearily, still dazed.
That sleep had been wonderfully comfortable.
He felt as if he had been lying on the softest grass in the Rogue Encampment, surrounded by a delicate, sweet fragrance.
Lately, his average sleep time had been less than four hours a day, and that included his naps during class.
“Mm…
is it time?” Sitting up, he stretched lazily, feeling much more refreshed.
“Hurry!
We’re dead if Filch catches us!” Hermione urged, a lingering flush still on her cheeks.
They exited the classroom one after the other, heading toward Gryffindor Tower.
As they walked along the corridor, Rayleigh noticed something odd.
“Hermione, what’s wrong with your leg?” he asked curiously.
“Why are you limping?
Did Mrs.
Norris scratch you?” Hermione stopped dead in her tracks, whirling around to shoot him a look that could kill.
“What do you think, my fine sir?!
You used my leg as a pillow!
It’s completely numb now!” Rayleigh froze for a second, then realization dawned on him.
“Oh…
oh!
Sorry!
I’m so sorry!” He gasped, stepping forward to support her.
“It’s my fault!
How about…
I carry you back?” “Get off!” Hermione snapped, swatting his hand away, though her lips twitched into a subtle smile.
“I can walk on my own!” Sharp as her tongue was, she slowed her pace, allowing Rayleigh to lend her a steadying arm.
Finally, they made it back to the common room right at the skin of curfew.
After escorting Hermione safely to the entrance of the girls’ dormitories, Rayleigh waved to her.
“Good night, Hermione.
And…
thank you.” With that, he turned and slipped quickly into the boys’ dormitory.
Inside the bedroom, Seamus was already fast asleep, snoring softly.
Rayleigh didn’t hesitate for a single moment.
Kicking off his shoes, he lay down fully clothed on his bed and closed his eyes.
His rest earlier had restored a bit of his energy, but it was far from enough.
His goal had never changed.
The next second, his consciousness sank into his mind once more, entering that world filled with slaughter and treasure.
Tonight, he had to reach Level 12.