Upon hearing Cassandra's explanation, Hermione stood in place, uncertainty evident in her voice.
"Is that all? Don't we have to give something in return?"
Cassandra answered calmly in response to Hermione's doubt:
"What you give is simply offering your help to others when they need it, to the best of your ability—and carrying out tasks assigned by Joker. Of course, Joker rarely gives out missions, and even when he does, they're always within our capabilities. That's because only Joker knows who we all really are."
Hermione furrowed her brow, contemplating in silence for a long while before finally shaking her head and saying resolutely:
"I'm sorry. I refuse."
This time, unlike how Draco had tried to persuade her before, Cassandra did not insist when faced with Hermione's refusal.
After what had happened with Draco, Cassandra had reflected. Some things can't be rushed. Refusing to join the Secret Order didn't hurt the Order—it was the witch herself who missed out.
So Cassandra simply replied with a cool tone:
"Are you certain? That's your final answer?"
Hermione nodded firmly. "I've made up my mind. I know you're all powerful witches and wizards, but I just want to be an ordinary student."
Cassandra knew full well that this was only an excuse. But she didn't try to convince her again. She merely said flatly:
"Very well. You may leave now."
Just as Hermione turned to go, Cassandra's voice called after her.
"Oh—and don't mention us to anyone else. Unless you want them to experience Obliviate firsthand. You were brought here by Joker's will. But not everyone is fit to know we exist. For them, that knowledge might not be a blessing."
Hermione nodded, feeling the weight of the warning. And in that moment, she resolved again to stay far away from this organization.
But deep inside her, Hermione couldn't help but feel intrigued by the mysterious group—and especially, by the enigmatic Joker.
Shaking her head to clear her thoughts, Hermione pushed aside the swirling questions in her mind and hurried out of the Room of Requirement.
Draco, who had been watching the whole exchange, couldn't help but speak.
"So that's it? Aren't we going to try to persuade her again?"
Cassandra, unconcerned, replied:
"There's no need. When she's truly in trouble and has nowhere else to turn, she'll remember us."
...
In the days that followed, Hogwarts gradually returned to something resembling normal school life—aside from the usual unreliability of the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor.
Wentworth remained deeply engrossed in the study of ancient runes, unable to tear himself away. But this subject couldn't be mastered by effort alone. It demanded talent—and the guidance of a true master.
At Hogwarts, no one was more adept at ancient magic than Dumbledore. His formidable reputation wasn't built on flashy spells like Incendio.
But Wentworth knew he didn't have enough standing to request personal tutoring from Dumbledore himself.
So once again, his thoughts turned to Lupin.
Since last term, when Wentworth had practically exhausted Lupin's knowledge of standard spells, he hadn't returned often to the Shrieking Shack.
But now, even though Lupin's mastery of ancient runes was mediocre at best, it was still far better than Wentworth fumbling through it on his own. After all, Lupin had once been President of the Hogwarts Student Council.
Meanwhile, Hermione had become increasingly uneasy. The discovery of a secret, hidden organization within Hogwarts had left her with a lingering sense of dread.
She debated whether she should tell Harry and Ron about what she'd learned. That afternoon, the three of them had just finished dinner and were walking down a corridor when Harry suddenly stopped in his tracks.
"Wait a second!"
Harry called out, stopping Hermione and Ron. He stood still, as if listening to something in the otherwise empty corridor.
Hermione and Ron exchanged puzzled glances.
"Harry, what are you doing?" Hermione asked.
Harry pressed his ear to the wall.
"Didn't you hear that? Something strange?"
Hermione and Ron looked at each other again, this time more confused than before.
"We didn't hear anything," Hermione said. "Harry, what did you hear?"
Harry's eyes widened in shock, even more so than Hermione and Ron's.
"You really didn't hear it? Nothing at all?"
They both shook their heads blankly.
The three of them followed the direction from which Harry claimed the sound had come. Suddenly, Hermione cried out:
"Look over there!"
Harry and Ron turned to where Hermione was pointing and saw a line of spiders scrambling along the wall, as though fleeing from something terrifying.
"Oh my God!"
Ron gasped, collapsing onto the floor in shock.
Harry and Hermione rushed to help him up, but Ron was staring, wide-eyed and shaking, pointing behind them.
They turned and looked.
On the wall behind them, written in what looked like blood, were these chilling words:
THE CHAMBER OF SECRETS HAS BEEN OPENED. ENEMIES OF THE HEIR, BEWARE.
Below the writing, a cat hung limp and lifeless against the stone wall.
It was Mrs. Norris—Argus Filch's cat.
Harry and Hermione froze in place, staring in horror and disbelief at the gruesome scene.
And then came the sound of running footsteps—dozens of them—echoing through the corridors of Hogwarts. Hermione's heart sank. Too late.
A piercing scream rang out across the castle, and moments later, students poured into the corridor, eyes going wide at the sight.
Harry, Hermione, and Ron stood rooted to the spot—looking, to the onlookers, like three very guilty culprits.
As the students began whispering and speculating, a voice from the Slytherin crowd called out:
"Harry!"
Draco Malfoy strode forward, quickly pulling Harry aside, trying to steer him away from the scene. As he did, he leaned in and whispered:
"Harry, I thought you weren't one of those pureblood supremacists. But this… you've really stirred things up."
Harry pushed Draco away, his face tense.
"I'm not. And I didn't do this!"
Just then, Argus Filch himself arrived, his eyes going immediately to the lifeless form of Mrs. Norris.
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