After lunch, Hermione and Caelan agreed to go to the library together to complete their homework.
Professor Binns of History of Magic had assigned a six-inch (about fifteen centimeters) essay.
It was due before the next class, but obviously, the two of them planned to finish it early.
Although Hogwarts Castle was already colossal from the outside, its interior space was even more vast thanks to Undetectable Extension Charms.
It took Caelan and Hermione quite a walk to get from the Great Hall to the library.
The Hogwarts library was located on the west side of the castle’s fifth floor, and the space inside was breathtakingly immense.
Crisscrossing bookshelves stood in silent rows, thousands upon thousands of books neatly arranged according to category and size.
Between the shelves were several medium-brown study desks.
A few staircases moved among them, providing access to different levels.
Both kids were book lovers; the moment they entered the library, they were as thrilled as mice falling into a granary.
Madam Pince, the librarian, quickly noticed the two little ones beaming from ear to ear.
One look at their expressions and she knew they were almost certainly this year’s first-years.
*New students!* She hated new students most of all.
These hyperactive, mischievous, endlessly chattering first-years never remembered library rules, and worse yet, some would even damage the books.
Sometimes, a book she lent out would return looking as battered as if it had been through a wizarding war.
Madam Pince strode over with a stern expression.
“Are you two first-years?” “Yes, ma’am.” The two little wizards greeted her politely.
“Remember: no scribbling, tearing, folding, defacing, damaging, or throwing books.
No noise, and no eating in the library.
Am I understood?” Madam Pince pointed to a library notice board: “Also, no entry to the Restricted Section.
Books from the main section must have my permission before being taken out of the library.” Hermione and Caelan nodded, putting on their most well-behaved expressions.
This satisfied Madam Pince greatly, improving her impression of the pair quite a bit.
The two found an unoccupied table and set down their books and assignments.
The moment Hermione sat down, she began flipping through her book, ready to write her History of Magic essay.
Caelan, on the other hand, stood up to look for spellbooks.
He had nearly mastered all the spells in *The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 1*, and now urgently needed to learn some new ones.
Although first-years would take Professor Flitwick’s Charms class, that learning pace was far too slow.
He had to give himself some extra lessons.
Caelan walked past several bookshelves, his gaze skimming over row after row of book spines, when he suddenly spotted a familiar name.
Gilderoy Lockhart.
Looking at the titles, they were things like *Break with a Banshee*, *Holidays with Hags*, and *Wanderings with Werewolves*.
Flipping through them casually, Caelan found that while the titles had a sensational flair, the contents were more or less similar.
They were all stories detailing how Lockhart banished banshees, werewolves, hags, and the like, written somewhat like adventure novels.
Probably because Lockhart’s achievements were all stolen from others, these stories felt somewhat disjointed upon closer inspection.
While it didn’t hinder reading, looking into it closely made the narrative feel odd.
Even so, these books were indeed full of dramatic twists and turns, with eye-catching titles.
Evidently, Lockhart’s literary talent far outstripped his magical talent.
Putting the books back on the shelf, Caelan continued searching for the spellbook he wanted.
As he walked, he gradually approached the Restricted Section.
This was an area at the back of the Hogwarts library separated by a rope, containing material unsuitable for young students.
Caelan, however, lusted after its contents quite a bit.
Though some Dark Arts were indeed dangerous, there was no denying their immense power.
Authority and power never bloomed in a greenhouse.
Unfortunately, books here could only be checked out with a signed permission slip from a professor.
Caelan had no way of obtaining one right now.
Otherwise, he would be more than willing to learn a few high-offense Dark spells.
“Step back!
No closer!” Holding a feather duster, Madam Pince emerged from out of nowhere, staring at Caelan with a scrutinizing gaze.
“I warned you just now: the Restricted Section is off-limits.” “My apologies, ma’am.” Caelan took two steps back, demonstrating that he had no interest in the Restricted Section.
“I was just browsing for books and ended up here by accident.” “I’m just a first-year student, ma’am.
The regular section has more than enough for me.” Caelan blinked a couple of times, looking entirely harmless.
Madam Pince let out a cold snort.
“It had better be.
What book are you looking for?” “*The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 3*.” Hearing the title, Madam Pince nodded.
With a flick of her wand, a book flew over from a distant shelf.
“Thank you, ma’am.” Caelan took the book, his voice sweet as honey.
“That was so fast.
You’re amazing.” “Alright, off to study with you.
Don’t damage the book.” Madam Pince kept her face stern.
Only after Caelan walked away did a faint smile appear on her face.
She didn’t dislike young wizards who loved to read, especially well-behaved, polite ones.
Caelan returned to Hermione’s side with his book and found that she had already started writing her History of Magic assignment.
“I’ve already written half an inch,” Hermione said, raising her chin and blinking at Caelan.
“I’ll definitely finish before you.” “Shh—” Caelan made a quiet gesture to her.
Checking distant Madam Pince, he sat in his chair and whispered, “If I write faster than you, will you agree to one request of mine?” “What request?
Let’s get one thing straight first: you’re not allowed to write in huge handwriting.” Hermione leaned in, whispering into Caelan’s ear.
“Don’t worry.
Just say whether you agree or not.” “Fine, it’s a deal!
I’ll definitely write faster than you.” As for fluffing up an essay, Caelan had received professional training in his previous life.
Plus, writing in English now made it even simpler.
Even though Hermione had excellent grades, she hadn’t written many formal essays in primary school; winning against Caelan was practically impossible.
Pondering Professor Binns’s History of Magic assignment for a moment, Caelan mapped out a rough outline in his mind.
First, summarize the historical magic event, then analyze the event’s impact from multiple perspectives, and finally wrap it up with a look toward the future.
An essay that appeared rich in substance, but was actually entirely formulaic, was born.
Once the framework was set, Caelan put pen to parchment.
In less than thirty minutes, he was done.
“You’re finished already?!” Hermione stared in wide-eyed astonishment, leaning over to inspect Caelan’s essay closely.
The handwriting was neither too large nor too small.
While not overly flamboyant, it was neat and clear…
in fact, almost impossibly neat, looking nearly printed.
“How did you do that?” Hermione picked up the essay to read.
She found that despite Caelan writing so quickly, the content was actually quite solid, leaving her feeling somewhat defeated.
“Want to learn?
I can teach you.” “Yes, please!” Afterward, Caelan passed down a set of essay-writing and fluffing techniques distilled by countless test-taking predecessors, letting her experience the sheer power of exam-oriented education.
That day, Hermione felt as though her brain had been cleansed by strange, mind-boggling knowledge.
“There’s actually a method like this?” Hermione muttered to herself, feeling her mind enriched with absurdly practical tricks.
“I lose,” Hermione conceded, completely impressed.
“What do you want me to do?” “My dear Miss Granger, might I have the honor of having dinner with you?” Caelan took Hermione’s hand, winking at her.
“That’s it?” “What else?” Caelan blinked innocently.
What bad intentions could a tiny, innocent Slytherin first-year possibly have?
Hermione agreed, though a vague look of disappointment flashed across her face.
At a nearby table, several Slytherin first-years were sitting, shooting glance after glance out of the corners of their eyes at the pair.
“They finished their homework already?!” “Can I ask to copy his homework…” “Pathetic!
Shut your mouth!” “Finishing homework is nothing.
Friday is Professor Snape’s class,” a Slytherin student gritted his teeth.
“I don’t believe Prewett will have such good luck in Potions class!” Another student beside him nudged him with an elbow: “They look like they’ve already started previewing the Potions textbook…” “Hss…” A sound of sharp gasps echoed among them.
“Damn it, what is wrong with those two?!
It’s only Monday!
Why didn’t the Sorting Hat put them in Ravenclaw?!” “Reading books won’t help in Potions anyway—it all comes down to practical operation in the end,” someone insisted defensively.
Caelan and Hermione didn’t notice what they were saying at all, hopelessly immersed in their world of hyper-competitive study grinding.
“If any of you speak another word, get out!” Madam Pince’s cold voice echoed from behind those students.
The group went instantly silent.
*Just wait till Potions class…