After leaving the Potters standing slack-jawed outside the Headmaster’s office, Harry made his way to the Library.
Hermione had invited him earlier to join her study group.
When he arrived, he found Neville and several other Gryffindors clustered around her like courtiers around royalty.
On the way in he crossed paths with Theo and asked if he wanted to join.
Theo glanced at the table—his eyes briefly meeting Hermione’s—then whispered a quick “No” and hurried out.
Harry shook his head and approached the group.
He introduced himself to the others: Parvati Patil, Lavender Brown, and Dean Thomas.
“I must say, I wasn’t expecting quite so many people,” he remarked.
“I thought it was just the three of us.”
“Let’s just say Hermione’s popularity has skyrocketed in the last few hours,” Parvati said smugly.
“Oh, stop!” Hermione protested, cheeks flaming.
“Now that the adrenaline has worn off, I feel rather embarrassed about the whole thing.”
“Don’t be,” Neville insisted.
“You were incredible. That’s what Gryffindor bravery is supposed to look like—not acting like… like a braying ass.” The Gryffindors laughed until Madame Pince’s sharp shush silenced them.
“What? For calling Potions?” Harry asked.
Jim out in
“Oh, that was only the beginning,” Neville said with a grin.
“At some point, Harry, I’m going to borrow my Gran’s Pensieve so you can watch the memory. I’m going to treasure it forever. It went like this…”
Three hours earlier…
The first-year Gryffindors had returned to their tower after the disastrous Potions lesson, emotions running high.
For Jim Potter, the dominant feeling was pure anger.
“Granger!” he bellowed the moment he stepped through the portrait hole. Find the original chapter at g.com.
“Gryffindors are supposed to stick together! What the hell were you thinking, calling me a ‘braying ass’ in front of the whole class—and in Snivellus’s class, no less!”
“Oh, I’m sorry, Potter,” Hermione replied sweetly.
“I’m only a humble Muggle-born, still in awe of the wonders of the magical world. When I see a braying ass magically disguised as a Hogwarts student, I simply can’t help pointing it out.”
“Why you little—! What were you so upset about anyway? It’s just House points! Nobody cares about that except Little Miss Know-It-All!”
Hermione’s eyes flashed.
She whipped out her wand.
Jim fumbled for his own, but she simply turned on her heel and marched toward the stairs leading to the dormitories.
There, she aimed her wand up each staircase and unleashed a series of loud, crackling fireworks before shouting at the top of her lungs:
“ALL PREFECTS TO THE COMMON ROOM FOR AN EMERGENCY MEETING!”
Seconds later, older Gryffindorsincluding all six prefects—came pouring down the stairs.
An furious Hermione Granger stood atop a coffee table, wand still in hand, surrounded by wide-eyed first-years.
Ralph Macmillan, the seventh-year prefect, was the first to speak.
“What the hell is going on down here?! Who called a prefects’ meeting?!”
“I did,” Hermione said calmly.
“You told us that if we had any questions, we should ask a prefect. Well, I have a question, and I want it answered right now.”
“Have you gone completely mental?!” Ralph exclaimed.
A female prefect, Emily Rossen, laid a calming hand on his arm.
“Easy, Ralph. Let me handle this.” She turned to Hermione.
“Miss Granger—Hermione—you’re clearly upset.
Why don’t you put your wand away, step down from the table, and we can talk about this reasonably?” “Not until I’ve asked my question.” Emily took a deep breath.
“Very well.
What is it?” “The House Cup,” Hermione said.
“Is it something Gryffindor House actually cares about? Something we genuinely aspire to win? Or is it just a joke that only ‘Know-It-Alls’ worry about? Something we’re supposed to laugh off whenever some idiot costs us dozens of points in a single class? Because if it’s the latter, I promise I can stop caring about the House Cup too. It will be much easier to pass my OWLs if I’m not dragging so much dead weight behind me.” Enjoying the story? Read on at novelping.com.
She glared pointedly at Jim and Ron.
Percy Weasley missed the look and immediately rounded on his twin brothers.
“Oh Merlin’s pants, what have you idiots done now?!”
The twins raised their hands in surrender.
“Twasn’t us, oh Perfect Prefect Percy.” “We haven’t lost any points… yet.” “Haven’t had time to do anything worth memorializing.” “Though we did steal a toilet seat, but I don’t think anyone’s noticed.” “We’ve noticed,” Katie Bell and Alicia Spinnet said in unison, clearly unimpressed.
Neville interrupted.
“It wasn’t the twins, Percy. It was Jim.”
“Oh, thanks a lot, traitor,” Jim snapped.
Hermione stepped down from the table and approached the prefects.
“I don’t know how things are going for the upper years. But among the first-years, it took Neville, Parvati, Lavender, and me a full week to make up for the twenty points Jim cost us on his very first morning.”
Ralph coughed.
“Yes, well… that was an unfortunate start, but hopefully he’s learned from it and it won’t happen again—”
“Jim just lost us thirty-five points in Potions,” Hermione said calmly.
The common room went dead quiet.
All six prefects stared at the Boy-Who-Lived.
Jim swallowed hard under the sudden weight of attention that, for once, was far from adoring.
Murmurs of discontent rippled through the older students.
The twins were legendary troublemakers, but thirty-five points in a single class was what they might lose in an entire week.
It represented nearly half the points Gryffindor had earned so far that term.
“Thirty-five points… in one class,” Emily said weakly.
“Actually,” Neville added tiredly, “thirty-five points in under a minute.”
“…HOW?!” another prefect shrieked.