Among all humans, wizards are undoubtedly the most unique.
If we’re being a little dramatic, you could say that children who beco wizards are the ones chosen by fate.
Maybe because of that, and aside from a rare few exceptions, most wizards tend to mature faster than their peers.
They learn spells capable of causing harm at a young age, are allowed to drink openly at just eleven, and participate in dangerous sports like Quidditch with barely any restrictions.
All these details show that young witches and wizards are expected to be anything but ordinary.
You could see it clearly in soone like Pansy—bold in love and hate...
...
Ron Weasley, a wizard himself, seed to grow up all at once in that brief mont when his eyes t Hermione’s.
Only when the two of them were finally alone did Ron truly realize what it ant to notice a girl—and to feel his heart race.
Maybe this was what people ant by being nervous?
Unfortunately, he hadn’t matured quite enough to know what to do with that feeling...
“Nothing much. Looks like sothing’s going on with Slytherin again.”
“I don’t know what’s up with them, but I’m sure those Slytherins are scheming sothing.”
“I think we should tell Wood.”
“Or maybe suggest that all Quidditch matches should use the sa model of broomsticks.”
“Or better yet, let join the team. With my flying skills, I’d definitely be a huge help.”
Like every boy trying to impress the girl beside him, Ron’s awkward mix of bragging and finger-pointing was almost endearing in its clumsiness.
He rambled on, completely unaware that Hermione’s thoughts were miles away.
She just stared out the window, her brown eyes glinting with sothing unreadable. She seed deep in thought, not listening at all.
Even though she was still young, the slight furrow in her brow and that quiet grace already hinted at the kind of charm that would only grow with ti.
Seeing her like that made Ron, mid-ramble, suddenly flush and lose his rhythm. He shifted awkwardly, his eyes darting between the passing scenery and Hermione’s face.
If Hermione noticed him sneaking glances like that, she’d probably hit him with a spell and toss him out the window, wouldn’t she?
“Uh... Hermione?”
Finally realizing he’d been talking non-stop, Ron couldn’t hold it in anymore and blurted out her na.
“What?!”
Startled by the sudden shout, Hermione sat up straight, glancing over at Ron—who was now blushing for so reason. She instinctively pulled her robe tighter.
“Uh... uh...”
But now that he had her attention, Ron couldn’t figure out what to say. He squird in his seat, struggling to speak.
The wand he’d planned to polish was now clutched so tightly it looked like he might snap it in half.
Now that he thought about it, things between him and Hermione weren’t nearly as bad as they had been in the beginning.
But even if their relationship had improved, calling them friends still felt like a stretch. If anything, it was more accurate to say they were “Harry Potter’s friends' friends.”
Truth be told, they didn’t really share much in common. Not many shared interests, and barely any conversation to go on.
At last, under Hermione’s increasingly puzzled stare, Ron fumbled for sothing—anything—to say. After a long, awkward pause, he finally blurted out:
“Harry’s probably off sowhere pulling his hair out trying to figure out who Nicolas Flal is, hahaha... ha...”
“...”
“...”
“...”
Awkward.
Silence.
Hermione, not understanding what Ron was even trying to say, offered him a polite smile—and then turned her head back toward the window.
In that instant, Ron nearly opened the train window and leapt out.
Sowhere inside, he started regretting not being kinder to Hermione before.
If he had been, maybe things wouldn’t feel so awkward now—maybe they’d have sothing to talk about when Harry wasn’t around...
...
In truth, Hermione, who had paid no attention to Ron, was also preoccupied with thoughts about Slytherin...
More precisely, about Draco Malfoy.
"According to The Rise and Fall of Dark Magic, dark magic is the type of spell that Death Eaters are most skilled at using. That’s why people say all dark wizards use dark magic."
"And after the Dark Lord’s downfall, the Ministry of Magic officially banned both the use and study of such magic."
Tap, tap, tap~
Hermione's fingertips absentmindedly drumd against the window, as if the rhythm could sohow help her think more clearly.
It was because of Draco that she had started looking into dark magic. She had dug up her old copy of The Rise and Fall of Dark Magic, which she’d read before starting school. Reading it again from a new perspective, she noticed things she had never considered before.
Like—was dark magic truly evil?
Hermione had started to question everything...
After all, it was from Hagrid that she first learned the Ministry’s law enforcent squads were actually required to master a certain degree of dark magic.
And when Hagrid ntioned it, his face—usually hidden beneath that wild beard—went pale, as though he’d rembered sothing terrifying.
For soone like Hermione, who had always seen the world in black and white, the revelation was deeply unsettling and forced her to rethink her beliefs.
She’d grown up a little that day...
But more than anything, she felt confused and conflicted about Draco.
“He saved Harry... so was I wrong about him?”
“No... maybe it was just to achieve his goal?”
“But then... he saved too.”
“Is dark magic really evil?”
“Was I the one who was wrong?”
Staring out the window, Hermione didn’t really see the passing scenery—only the lost and uncertain version of herself reflected in the glass.
And the silent turmoil of being a young girl...
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