The first escape training drill turned out exactly as Bryan had expected. If one had to describe it in a single word, it would be: ss, a complete ss.
Faced with an enemy force three tis their own, the only thing the tested groups could think of was to have all three mbers charge in one direction and break through. The outco for the students was instant and embarrassing; they were overwheld by the oncoming attacks with the unstoppable force amidst the resulting chaos. Several three-person groups tried a different approach, breaking out in three separate directions, but the results were no different.
The three groups serving as the encircling party perford equally poorly. Their attacks seed to have reverted to the initial stage, completely lacking in any technique. The maneuvers they had practiced for months seed to have vanished from their muscle mory. What remained was an uncoordinated ss, as they had sohow lost the tacit understanding between team mbers that had previously been developing.
Each student fought as an individual, relying solely on their large nurical advantage to achieve what could hardly be called a victory—more accurately, it was just the inevitable outco of overwhelming force.
As the clock of Hogwarts chid, signaling the approach of eleven o'clock, Bryan looked at the gathering of dazed and visibly disheartened students and chuckled softly.
"Today's howork assignnt," He announced, his voice coming through the heavy silence that had fallen upon the classroom, "is for each of you to write a twelve-inch essay discussing what tactics should be used to quickly achieve your strategic objectives when besieged and counter-besieged. I expect your completed work submitted to no later than next Wednesday evening—"
A twelve-inch essay was no small task, and the students' spirits sank even lower. Bryan paid no attention to the students' groans. He gathered his things and prepared to leave the classroom with a smile, but just as he turned to step away, Draco suddenly called out to him.
"Please wait a mont, Professor Watson!"
Bryan stopped and turned around slowly, "Is there sothing you need, Mr. Malfoy?"
"Oh, well, Professor—" A brief glimr of cunning light flashed in Draco's eyes. He used a polite tone to show just the right amount of humility. "Today's lesson was very deep, and the essay topic is, I must say, quite challenging. I will need to do so research in the library to find so relevant materials—"
Bryan raised a single eyebrow. Under the gaze of his increasingly interested classmates, Draco continued. "You see, Professor, I was wondering if you might possibly provide with a note to facilitate my access to certain sections—"
Bryan looked down at Draco from his height. Draco maintained a docile, earnest expression, though the light in his eyes flickered unsteadily.
"No problem, Mr. Malfoy," Bryan responded smoothly. "Your request is very reasonable—"
Bryan smiled, took a deep look at Draco, and quickly wrote a note on the parchnt Draco eagerly handed over.
"Does anyone else wish to make a similar request?"
Bryan looked at the students in the hall, but except for Hermione glaring angrily at Draco, the others all had slightly dazed looks on their faces, and no one said a word. Bryan pursed his lips thoughtfully. After casting a final, aningful glance at the now gleeful Draco, he left quickly without saying much else.
The students poured out of the classroom. Most of them were making their way toward the Great Hall for lunch, but as it was still relatively early in the day, quite a few were also planning to return briefly to their respective dormitories. Gradually, the crowd thinned and dispersed throughout the corridors of Hogwarts.
"Does anyone know what that little bastard Malfoy is plotting this ti?" George's voice was tinged with undisguised contempt.
Throughout their journey from the classroom, Malfoy had an intolerably arrogant look on his face. After the Slytherin students had separated from the main group and swaggered to their own table, George asked impatiently.
"Just look at that stupid, self-satisfied expression," He continued, gesturing toward the Slytherin table with disgust. "As if he's sohow gained so massive advantage over the rest of us!"
Fred nodded vigorously, his identical face reflecting George's hostility.
The words of the Weasley twins sparked murmurs of agreent from the surrounding Gryffindors, their collective suspicion of Malfoy was now a well-established tradition.
"What's really going on, Hermione?" Harry leaned forward across the table. From Hermione's expression, he instinctively realized that she should know sothing about the situation.
Harry's question also reminded the group of Gryffindor students. They all knew Hermione had the sharpest mind among them and turned their gazes to her, wanting her to share her thoughts.
"Malfoy asking Professor Watson for a note to access the library's restricted section almost certainly isn't for finding materials to write his assigned essay—"
By this point, Hermione's initial flare of anger had subsided, replaced by a cool analysis. She continued calmly, "I guess he's planning to search the restricted section for any books that record the creation process for Portkeys, or perhaps procedures for establishing private connections between fireplaces while avoiding the monitoring systems of the Departnt of Magical Transportation—"
"The restricted section has information like that?!" Neville blurted out, his face showing deep shock.
"The restricted section contains virtually everything imaginable, Neville—" Harry responded offhandedly, his mind montarily revisiting the help they had gotten from the library's restricted section over past few years at Hogwarts.
Suddenly, Harry snapped back to the present situation, his tone shifted to one of serious concern, "Is Malfoy truly not worried about being discovered by the Ministry of Magic if he plans to secretly create unauthorized Portkeys and fireplaces?"
"Malfoy's dad spends a large sum of Galleons every year on those greedy politicians. I guess he doesn't care about this at all. Besides--"
Fred said indignantly, but then his eyes rolled around. "Oh, that despicable, cunning snake— he probably saw through the whole thing--"
"Saw through what exactly?" Harry imdiately pressed, leaning forward with interest.
"Professor Watson's intentions, obviously—" George stated matter-of-factly, as if explaining sothing obvious.
"These particular thods were told to us in so much detail by Professor Watson, which logically shows that he most likely used them personally at so point—probably before he achieved his current level of fa. But more importantly, Professor Watson doesn't have any 'extended educational experiences' in Azkaban, does he? So, the Ministry's monitoring systems shouldn't be able to detect or monitor these specific thods—"
A flash of understanding imdiately appeared in Harry's eyes. The tempting possibility of finding an opportunity to explore the restricted section while hiding beneath his invisibility cloak suddenly popped into his mind.
"Think about Professor Watson's last question--"
More than one person had similar idea as Harry. Lee Jordan said regretfully, "He was probably just waiting for us to ask him for a note. Oh, what a cunning move!"
The topic of whether to break the law to make a few backup plans for oneself in case of danger was too sensitive. Even the normally reckless and courageous Gryffindor students dared not discuss it openly without careful restraint. Everyone had their own sches in mind, and Harry was also hesitating.
As far as the Ministry of Magic was concerned, he might already have a 'bad record.' Before the start of his second year at Hogwarts, Dobby had used a Hover Charm within his bedroom at Privet Drive, causing him to receive an official warning from the Ministry.
Before the beginning of his third year, in a mont of uncontrolled magical outburst, he had inadvertently inflated his Aunt Marge like a human balloon and was caught red-handed by Ministry officials. Although Fudge had dismissively branded these incidents as minor misdeanors, Harry couldn't help but wonder: if he broke wizarding law again…
The Ministry of Magic surely wouldn't sentence him to Azkaban, forcing him to confront those disgusting Dentors with only his wand for protection, would they?
Just the thought of it sent a reflexive shudder down Harry's spine. One needed only to observe Sirius's spooky expression whenever Azkaban was ntioned to understand the horror of such a fate.
Upon entering the Great Hall, with its ceiling currently displaying a blue sky, the Gryffindor students dispersed to their usual places. Given the early hour, quite few students had co down for lunch, leaving the vast hall unusually quiet.
Ron was sitting near the entrance in conversation with Lavender with occasional bursts of laughter interspersing in their dialogue. When he caught sight of Harry and the others approaching, Ron abruptly stood up, his movents showing nervousness.
Without bidding farewell or saying anything to Lavender, who looked montarily bewildered at his abrupt leaving, he rushed toward his friends, his ears were already beginning to flush crimson.
Observing this peculiar behavior, Harry's brow furrowed slightly in puzzlent, and he instinctively glanced sideways at Hermione to gauge her reaction. However, Hermione, who was also looking at Ron, had a very calm expression and showed no abnormality.
Harry frowned even more deeply, and a doubt arose in his mind - why was he observing Hermione's expression?
"What were you all discussing so intensely just now?" Ron asked hurriedly, his voice slightly higher than usual. "I noticed you standing huddled together in the entrance hall for quite so ti. Did sothing particularly interesting happen during your Physical Education class?"
The words tumbled out rapidly from Ron's mouth in an obvious attempt to deflect attention from his own discomfort, as his ears had an even brighter shade of red.
"We'll share the details later, Ron—" Hermione interjected smoothly before Harry could respond.
Discussing the sensitive content of today's PE lesson in public was inappropriate. Recognizing Harry's tendency to speak without fully considering the consequences, Hermione effectively cut the topic of conversation first.
By this ti, Lavender had already turned in her seat to chat with Parvati Patil. Harry, Ron, and Hermione also sat in their usual places at the Gryffindor table.
Hermione opened her bag, took out the book Sirius had given her, and while taking large bites of a at pie, she imrsed herself completely in the book, her eyes darting rapidly across the pages, utterly absorbed in its contents.
"How are you finding the book?" Harry said, breaking the awkward silence. He couldn't shake the persistent feeling that Hermione's calm deanor was sohow incompatible with the situation, while Ron's current state of obvious discomfort and awkwardness seed far more appropriate and expected.
He glanced sideways at Hermione, casually looking for a topic.
"Absolutely fascinating—" Hermione responded distractedly, barely pausing in her reading. "This book is a travelogue written by one of Sirius's ancestors about two centuries ago. It records how this Mr. Black resolved various life-threatening crises he encountered while journeying throughout the magical communities of the world.
At this mont, I'm reading an especially fascinating passage describing his experiences in India, where he beca entangled in a conflict with the local wizards there. He suffered the misfortune of being bitten by an extrely venomous magical serpent while simultaneously being hit by a nasty curse. Oh, I want to see how he got out of that trouble."
With that explanation delivered in a single breathless gush, Hermione's attention returned to the pages before her, her focus was intensifying to the point where she seed to have forgotten the presence of her friends completely.
Harry opened his mouth to respond, then thought better of it. Years of friendship had taught him that interrupting Hermione when she was deeply engrossed in a book—particularly one containing information she believed to be 'interesting'—was likely to provoke her temper.
Across the table, Ron was eating his lunch with unusual focus, his gaze was focused on his plate, obviously avoiding eting either Harry's or Hermione's eyes.
Harry blinked and pursed his lips, feeling a bit listless himself for a while.
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