Everything seemed to have returned to how it once was. Hermione was once again the cherished friend of Ron and others, the best dorm mate to Lavender and her crew, and a beloved classmate to Gryffindors, Hufflepuffs, and Ravenclaws alike. The harmony in her relationships with everyone felt as if nothing had ever gone wrong. This shift was especially evident after the owls delivered today's edition of The Daily Prophet. Just a week ago, the students couldn't have despised Hermione Granger more; now, they worshipped her with equal fervor.
Hogwarts' New Star, Hermione Granger, Becomes the Eighth Registered Animagus of the Century
The Daily Prophet is honored to announce that Hermione Granger, a fourth-year student at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, has officially become the eighth witch or wizard this century to register as an Animagus with the Ministry of Magic.
An Animagus, a rare and advanced magical skill allowing a witch or wizard to transform into a specific animal at will, demands exceptional control over magic and profound knowledge of Transfiguration. Miss Granger's achievement is not only a personal triumph but also a testament to the exemplary quality of Hogwarts' education.
According to the relevant department at the Ministry of Magic, Miss Granger's registration process adhered strictly to all regulations, including identity verification, transformation ability tests, and ethical reviews. As a student of Minerva McGonagall—herself one of the eight registered Animagi this century—Miss Granger's Animagus form is, fittingly, a tabby cat.
Our investigation reveals that Hermione Granger has consistently shone at Hogwarts. Excelling academically, she recently made history as the unprecedented fourth champion in the newly reinstated Triwizard Tournament. In the first task, she single-handedly defeated a fully grown Hungarian Horntail, an accomplishment that will undoubtedly inspire countless young witches and wizards to delve deeper into the study of magical arts.
Harry swallowed a bite of his fried egg and clapped Hermione on the shoulder. "So, what's it feel like, Miss Hermione Granger, soon to be the talk of the entire country?"
"Eat your bread!" Hermione retorted, playfully shoving a piece of toast into Harry's mouth. She cupped her flushed cheeks with both hands. "If I'd known it would cause such a fuss, I'd have followed your lead and skipped registration…"
Due to Hermione's dazzling performance in the first task, Professor McGonagall had been bombarded with questions from students in class about when they might achieve Transfiguration feats on par with Hermione Granger.
During a fourth-year Gryffindor Transfiguration lesson, after being asked for the second time by a curious student when they could match Hermione's level, Professor McGonagall paused her teaching and addressed the class with a sigh.
"I must clarify again, Mr. Finnigan," she said, "the spell Miss Granger used against the dragon was not a proper Transfiguration. Any fifth-year student with several times the magical power of an adult wizard could achieve what Miss Granger did. So, instead of repeatedly asking me when you'll be able to conjure a fifty-three-foot stone giant, I suggest you learn from Mr. Potter and Miss Granger—especially Miss Granger. Few witches or wizards master the Animagus transformation at her age."
Meanwhile, Harry and Hermione had made significant progress in their investigation into the attack on Luna Lovegood by a dark magical object.
In their first Potions class after the first task, Professor Snape introduced potions that would appear on their O.W.L. exams. According to him, while some students remained "irreparably foolish," their current skill level was sufficient to begin tackling more challenging brews. Per the curriculum, after the Christmas holidays, they would start attempting to brew potions that would feature in the O.W.L.s.
"Merlin's beard, I hope he's joking," Harry overheard Ron muttering to Seamus, seated diagonally behind him. "We're two years away from our O.W.L.s… that old bat's got no humanity!"
Next, Snape instructed them to brew a Wit-Sharpening Potion.
As usual, he scrawled the brewing steps and precautions on the blackboard. Also as usual, the students squinted through clouds of white steam to decipher his handwriting. By the end of the lesson, only two or three students' cauldrons contained the clear, pale orange, oily liquid described on the board. The rest were either too dark or not orange at all. Harry even spotted Crabbe and Goyle attempting to chisel their potion out of their cauldron.
Snape inspected each student's potion one by one, but for some reason, he saved Harry and Hermione, seated in the front center, for last. As students trickled out of the classroom for lunch, Snape leisurely approached their table. When he examined Hermione's cauldron, he merely wrinkled his nose in distaste, scribbled what looked like an "O" on her record, and moved on. But when inspecting Harry's potion, Snape practically shoved his head inside the cauldron for a close-up examination.
"Too dark, Potter. I suspect you added the moonstone powder too late—again," Snape sneered, slashing a large "A" onto Harry's record with his quill. "Next time you try to pass off this slop, you won't even get an 'A'!"
Harry glanced at his cauldron, which held a pale orange, oily liquid nearly identical to Hermione's, and gave a perfunctory nod. Snape was clearly trying to provoke him into a reaction that would justify docking Gryffindor points. Harry wasn't foolish enough to take the bait.
However, while Harry had no intention of rising to Snape's taunts, he couldn't stop trouble from finding him.
As Harry and Hermione finished packing their equipment and stepped toward the dungeon's exit, the door to Snape's private storeroom suddenly swung open from the inside. Igor Karkaroff, clad in a fur-lined cloak, emerged. Upon seeing Harry and Hermione, he visibly startled.
After a long, probing look at the pair, the Durmstrang headmaster brushed past them and hurried away.
As Harry and Hermione moved to leave, Snape's voice stopped them cold.
"How much of that conversation did you overhear?" His deep, obsidian eyes bored into them, his words colder than the winter wind outside.
"We didn't hear anything, Professor," Harry replied.
"Never lie to me, Potter!" Snape leaned down, his voice a venomous hiss. "Whatever you heard or saw, I strongly suggest you keep it buried in your stomachs…"
"Professor, we just came out of the classroom. We really don't know anything," Hermione interjected.
Snape studied them in silence, then turned and plucked a small brown vial filled with liquid from a shelf behind him. He dangled it before Harry and Hermione.
"Do you know what this is?" he asked.
"No, Professor," they replied, shaking their heads.
"Veritaserum," Snape said, his gaze drifting slowly between them. "Three drops down the throat, and even the Dark Lord himself would spill his deepest secrets. Unfortunately, the Ministry strictly prohibits its use on students. But…" His eyes narrowed dangerously. "If I catch you sneaking into my private storeroom to steal again, I might, one day, accidentally slip some into your pumpkin juice."
"We haven't been sneaking into your storeroom to steal anything," Harry said, bristling.
"I said, don't lie to me!" Snape snapped, glaring at Harry. "Boomslang skin, lacewing flies… You're trying to brew Polyjuice Potion, Potter. And trust me, I will catch you in the act."
The wooden door slammed shut in their faces.
On the way to the Great Hall, Hermione was practically vibrating with excitement.
"Harry! Did you hear what Professor Snape said? Someone's brewing Polyjuice Potion!" she exclaimed.
"But what's that got to do with us?" Harry asked, puzzled. "Also, what's Polyjuice Potion?"
"It's a potion that lets the drinker transform into someone else for an hour—but that's not the point!" Hermione shot him a look of exasperation and sighed. "Harry, haven't you figured it out? Who would risk getting caught, docked points, or even detention just to steal ingredients for Polyjuice Potion from Snape's private storeroom?"
"You mean…?"
"Exactly," Hermione nodded. "There's someone with bad intentions lurking in the castle, and Luna's attack might be connected to them!"
They continued their discussion as they entered the Great Hall.
Today's lunch was roast ribs, mashed potatoes, chips, and toasted bread. As Harry eagerly prepared to dig in, a massive flock of owls swooped into the hall. Oddly, each carried a parcel of similar size.
Spotting a flash of snowy white among the gray, Harry quickly moved his plate to make room for Hedwig.
Hedwig landed before him, clutching a parcel.
While Harry puzzled over how to open the elegantly wrapped package, Ron, seated beside him, held up a bizarre garment with a look of disgust and refusal.
"What is this?" Ron grimaced, inspecting the item sent by Mrs. Weasley.
It was a maroon velvet dress robe with a moldy-looking ruffled collar and matching lace cuffs.
"Ginny, I think Mum sent me your clothes by mistake," Ron said, passing the robe to his sister. But Ginny only stifled a laugh and didn't take it.
George (or possibly Fred), sitting across from Ron, spoke up. "That's yours, Ron. It's a dress robe."
"What?!" Ron's face contorted in horror.
"Dress robe!" Fred (or possibly George) repeated. "It was on the school supply list this year, remember? It said we need dress robes for formal occasions."
"You two are joking, right?" Ron said, incredulous. "I'm not wearing this. No way!"
Harry glanced around at other students, who were excitedly comparing their newly unwrapped robes, and placed a heavy hand on Ron's shoulder. "Face it, mate."
"No! I'd rather go starkers than wear this!" Ron insisted.
"I'm afraid you don't have a choice, Mr. Weasley," said Professor McGonagall, passing by.
Her gaze lingered on Ron's ancient dress robe for a moment, and Harry noticed the corner of her mouth twitch upward, though she managed to suppress a laugh.
"Everyone is required to wear dress robes this year, so I suggest you deal with that robe sooner rather than later."
McGonagall walked off. After the others had a good laugh critiquing Ron's robe, they left, satisfied. Seeing that everyone else's robes—especially George and Fred's—looked perfectly normal, Ron grew even more stubborn. "I'm not wearing this. Absolutely not!"
Harry couldn't take it anymore.
"Ron, you're a wizard, remember?" he hinted.
Ron blinked, confused.
With a sigh, Harry drew his wand and tapped Ron's secondhand robe. A sleek, fitted red dress robe materialized in Ron's hands.
Ron's face lit up with realization.
"Speaking of, we haven't seen your dress robe yet," Ron said, as he and the others crowded around Harry, urging him to open his parcel.
Inside was an unremarkable black dress robe and a letter.
While Ron and the others snatched the unopened robe to inspect it, Harry read the letter.
According to Sirius, the robe was custom-made, started in mid-August and only recently completed. Since he was writing back to Harry when the parcel arrived, he had Hedwig deliver it.
"Oi, Harry, did Sirius say how much this cost?" Ron asked, running his hand over the robe. "It feels really nice—probably expensive, yeah?"
"Let me check…" Harry scanned the letter. "Here it is. Sirius says it cost about 500 Galleons."
"How much?!"
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