The enchanted rose within the pastry box was not an artificial creation but a real flower. The mysterious sender who had mailed this gift to Hermione had obviously perford several complex magical enchantnts upon it. Each petal of the rose had an extraordinary dazzling beauty. The petals shimred with flowing light across their surface as if countless tiny diamonds were embedded within their velvety texture.
There was, perhaps, no young woman in the entire wizarding world who could resist the allure of such a magically enhanced wonder.
Watching Hermione sniff the rose under her nose with a delighted smile, looking like she couldn't bear to part with it, Ron smacked his lips, feeling mixed emotions.
Just as he had anticipated after Hermione had beco an unexpected Triwizard champion, her rapidly growing fa and popularity were no longer limited within Hogwarts. All the wizards and witches across Europe who followed the Triwizard Tournant with interest now knew of this exceptionally talented young witch, Hermione Jean Granger.
People throughout the wizarding community marveled at the remarkable wisdom and astonishing bravery she had displayed during the first task, facing a dragon.
Because the tournant was basically competitive in nature, Hermione's brilliant performance had especially won her the enthusiastic support and admiration of the Wizarding community throughout Britain. Her success brought glory not just on Hogwarts but on British magical education as a whole.
A perfect example of this was evident in how Madam Rosrta, the landlady of the Three Broomsticks, had imdiately spotted Hermione the mont she entered the shop and quickly served the three friends their butterbeers with an unusually enthusiastic smile.
A fleeting hint of lancholy flashed montarily in Ron's eyes.
The girl Harry had developed feelings for, Cho Chang, had been swept away by the handso Cedric Diggory from Hufflepuff House. Then what about him?
Would his own carefully guarded feelings for Hermione ever have a chance to bloom, now that she was becoming increasingly admired by wizards from across Europe? Would soone more impressive, more worthy of her wisdom, eventually capture her heart while he remained forever in the background, remaining the faithful but overlooked friend?
Taking a deep, steadying breath that expanded his chest beneath his sweater, Ron struggled hard to overco the bitterness that tried to poison his thoughts.
No matter what complicated emotions might be churning beneath the surface, Hermione had said they would be best friends for life. So, shouldn't he be genuinely happy and supportive that his dear friend was becoming increasingly outstanding, respected, and popular?
Wasn't that what true friendship ant-- to celebrate each other's success without reservation?
The smile on Hermione's face gradually began to influence Harry's somber mood as well. Like Ron beside him, Harry consciously didn't want the festering bitterness in his heart regarding Cedric and Cho to cast any shadow over Hermione's mont of innocent happiness.
With determined effort, he ntally shoved aside the intrusive image of Cedric's irritatingly handso face and was about to say sothing to Hermione when suddenly sothing happened.
The pink rose a fan had sent to Hermione, which she had placed on the table directly in front of her, suddenly emitted a strange light that traveled from the petals down to the stem in an unnatural pattern.
This ray of unusual color disappeared as instantly as it had appeared the mont it made contact with Hermione's fingertips. The phenonon manifested and vanished so rapidly that even Hermione, who was admiring the flower with attention, dismissed it as simply a trick of her imagination or perhaps a reflection from the pub's firelight.
Imdiately following this sign, the flower bud at the center of this enchanted rose began to tremble slightly. A breeze appeared out of absolutely nowhere, wafting beneath Hermione's nostrils despite the complete absence of any current in the crowded, stuffy pub.
Then, at a terrifying speed clearly visible to the naked eye, the previously gorgeous petals lost their vibrant, healthy color and withered like flowers left in scorching sun for days and disintegrating into ash-like dust before their horrified eyes.
Before the three stunned teenagers could possibly react or grasp what was happening, that pink rose that had existed monts ago had transford completely into a small pile of sinister-looking gray ashes, drifting downward and scattering across the wooden table like snowflakes.
After falling to the ground beneath their table, the remains vanished completely from sight, blending seamlessly with the accumulated dust and soot of the pub floor as though the beautiful flower had never existed at all.
The stunned silence lasted for dozens of seconds. Ron, who had been casually leaning against the back of his chair, unconsciously sat up straight in alarm. He stared at Hermione's fingers, which were still frozen in place, and his mouth fell open.
"Is this so kind of prank?" He finally managed to stamr, breaking the heavy silence.
"Maybe it is," Harry responded with equal blankness, blinking rapidly as his mind struggled to process what they had just witnessed.
Noticing the flash of disappointnt in Hermione's eyes, he thought carefully for a mont and then said hesitantly, "But I think, well, this flower seed to be created by advanced magic, didn't it? Perhaps the enchantnt simply wore off. Generally speaking, objects created purely through magical ans will quickly fade and disappear if not continuously sustained by the caster's magical energy, right?"
This logical explanation was considerably more reasonable and easier to accept. Hermione's expression gradually shifted, becoming noticeably more cheerful as she accepted this comforting justification.
"It does seem to be the most likely explanation," Hermione brushed off so of the ashes left on her hand. Glancing at the pastry box on the table, she said with a smile, "At least the enchantnt held long enough for to appreciate its beauty. That's sothing, I suppose."
The slight unpleasantness ended just like that, but the unsettling incident had dulled Hermione's enthusiasm for remaining in the crowded pub any longer.
As Harry had suggested earlier, they did have an essay assigned by Professor Watson to write. Moreover, finding a reliable thod to survive underwater for a long period was the absolute most critical priority at this particular mont. With barely a month remaining until the potentially deadly second task, Hermione couldn't possibly allow herself to fully relax or enjoy herself until she had created a foolproof solution to this.
"Let's head back to the castle," Hermione said decisively, rising from her chair with determination.
After ticulously wrapping her scarf around and cloak around herself securely against the biting cold, she continued speaking while carefully packing up the remaining pastry box,
"We should probably go directly to the library to begin working on our howork assignnts first. I guess Professor Watson's essay will take at least half a day of concentrated research and writing to complete properly. Then we can go to the Physical Education classroom to accompany Ron while he practices dodging dungbombs. Oh, sotis I genuinely feel I'm investing too much of an effort into that particular class..."
"You could simply abandon the class, couldn't you?" Ron said with a mischievous grin as he struggled to tie his Gryffindor scarf into an unnecessarily complicated knot around his neck.
"Don't be silly, Ron," Hermione responded rolling her eyes dramatically at his unreasonable suggestion. "Professor Watson would imdiately expel from school."
Listening to Hermione and Ron's familiar, comfortable bickering, Harry's mood couldn't help but improve a little. As his mind gradually cleared from the fog of jealousy and misery that had enveloped him earlier, he also felt an unsettling sensation that sothing important had slipped from his mind.
The three friends exited the warmth of the Three Broomsticks one after another, stepping back into the winter landscape of Hogsade. The cold yet remarkably fresh air imdiately brushed past their exposed cheeks, refreshing the three who had grown sowhat drowsy in the stuffy, overcrowded environnt of the pub.
The winter sun had risen considerably higher in the vast sky above them. The pale golden light falling down from the sky bathed the ancient, snow-covered village and the wilderness outside in a stunning golden glow that transford the ordinary scene into sothing magical. Even the previously invisible air surrounding them seed to take on a golden shimr.
The only genuinely unpleasant aspect of their journey was that the cobblestone road had beco even more slippery as the day progressed, patches of ice were forming where snow had partially lted and refrozen. The three of them held tightly onto each other's arms as they cautiously walked forward, forming a human chain against possible falls.
The main street running through the village was at least properly paved with a large layer of stone slabs, so it wasn't too difficult to walk on it. However, when they would leave the village later, the muddy, partially frozen ground stretching between the surrounding fields would probably be much worse than it had been during their morning journey to Hogsade.
Harry's gaze swept casually over the colorful display window of Honeydukes sweet shop by the roadside. He was seriously considering whether to follow Ron's suggestion from earlier this morning and return to Hogwarts castle through the convenient secret passage hidden within Honeydukes' storeroom.
But his thoughts were violently interrupted by a sudden, bone-chilling coldness emanating from Hermione's right arm that he was holding. The sensation was so unexpected and abnormal that it instantly jolted him from his thoughts.
'How could Hermione's arm be so cold?!'
Harry turned his head abruptly in shock. Simultaneously, Ron, who was holding Hermione's other hand on her left side, also rotated his head, looking at Hermione with an expression of horrified surprise that perfectly reflected Harry's own rising terror.
The three of them stopped in their tracks at the sa ti.
Looking at Hermione's rapidly changing face, terror erupted from the depths of Harry and Ron's widening eyes like molten lava from an explosive volcanic eruption!
The color of Hermione's cheeks no longer resembled that of a living, breathing human being at all, but instead had transford into the horrifying, blue-tinted paleness of a corpse that had been soaked in water for days. Her brown pupils had rolled upward showing them a frightening area of white with no sign of life!
Under the influence of whatever malicious magic had influenced her, Hermione's bushy curls at the back of her head suddenly underwent a disturbing transformation, becoming unnaturally straight and smooth.
But far more terrifying was the fact that her now-straightened hair was inexplicably floating slightly up around her head despite the complete absence of any wind, creating a horrific effect that made her entire person seem even more like a corpse in water!
"You—" Harry only managed to say one word before—
BOOM!
On the bustling main comrcial street of Hogsade village, crowded with weekend shoppers and students, an extraordinarily violent, explosive storm of dark magic suddenly erupted from within Hermione's seemingly petrified body!
This overwhelmingly tyrannical magical force made the surrounding air vibrate with visible ripples of distortion. Harry and Ron, who were directly in the path of this magical shockwave, were violently thrown backward through the air without even being able to voice a single sound of surprise or horror.
Imdiately following this initial blast, the destructive force extended its devastating reach like an unstoppable magical bulldozer demolishing everything in its path, impacting a widening circular area.
Innocent pedestrians standing within thirty to forty feet of Hermione's position were struck by the invisible force and thrown backwards like discarded ragdolls, one after another, as their screams added to the growing chaos!
CRASH!
The glass shop windows on both sides of the village street shattered explosively. Even the clay tiles on the rooftops and eaves of the buildings broke free from their tie-ups and poured down like ceramic rain onto the cobblestone street below while narrowly missing fleeing villagers.
"AHHHHH!"
Following a unnaturally sharp chilling scream as shrill as a banshee's wail, Hermione's stiff body, which was now continuously emitting thick black smoke fell backwards. She crashed heavily onto the wet stone-paved street and imdiately began to convulse and shake violently!
'I... don't want to die.'
The blue sky and white clouds above occupied Hermione's rapidly blurring vision. A single tear, containing within it a universe of despair slowly slid down from the corner of her eye.
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