Hermione walked nervously toward the front of the Great Hall under the gaze of the entire school.
She knew very well that now was not the time to act on impulse and contradict Fudge by claiming the medal should belong to Kai Adler.
Not only would that embarrass the Minister of Magic, but it could also interfere with whatever plan Kai had in mind.
Besides…
She could simply think of it as receiving the award for him—as if she were just a stand-in, right?
That thought, oddly comforting, made her straighten her back a little. As she walked beside Fudge, the nervous flutter in her chest began to settle. And with every step she took under the spotlight, a tiny sprout of pride bloomed within her.
After all, who doesn't enjoy being the center of attention?
She reminded herself of that as she approached the stage—only to meet Dumbledore's gently amused eyes.
Oh, right.
He doesn't like being the center of attention.
She turned slightly, her eyes sweeping across the crowd until they met Kai's.
That strange boy.
Kai smiled faintly, nodding at her with encouragement gleaming in his eyes.
Hermione wrinkled her nose at him, lips pressed together, then turned to look at Fudge.
Before reading out "Granger, Hermione," Fudge hadn't known much about the girl. But the moment she stood from beside Kai Adler, it clicked.
This girl—she must have been the young witch who cast the dolphin Patronus outside the Headmaster's office.
At the time, he'd assumed it was a senior student. He hadn't expected someone the same age as Kai.
What's going on with Hogwarts this year? he thought, shaken. So many young prodigies… and then there's Harry Potter on top of that.
The realization only reinforced his instinct not to antagonize Dumbledore—or any of these students. They were, after all, the future of the wizarding world… and potential assets for the Ministry.
His gaze toward Hermione softened.
Sure, the Patronus she'd summoned had been nothing compared to Kai's, but it still fit the speech he'd just made. It made the Order of Merlin, Third Class feel earned enough. And that was what mattered for appearances.
With a benevolent smile, he pulled Hermione closer in a grandfatherly manner.
"Miss Granger, we meet again."
The girl resisted the urge to roll her eyes.
Meet again? she thought. You were at Hagrid's hut. You didn't even notice me.
Still, she smiled graciously—a smile that bore an uncanny resemblance to Kai's.
"My pleasure, Minister Fudge."
"Seriously? She's just a Mud— I mean, a Muggle-born. How could she cast the Patronus Charm?"
A shrill voice rang out from the Slytherin table, cutting sharply through the Great Hall's silence.
Everyone turned toward the speaker: black-haired, sharp-faced, with the haughty bearing of a poodle. Pansy Parkinson sat beside Draco Malfoy, chin lifted and eyes gleaming with spiteful jealousy.
"Pansy Parkinson! Shut your bloody mouth!" Ron bellowed from the Gryffindor table, immediately jumping to his feet.
Harry's gaze shot directly to Draco, who was seated beside Pansy.
Everyone knew Draco and Pansy were close—almost inseparable, not unlike Kai and Hermione.
Draco himself had once insulted Hermione's bloodline, only to be soundly slapped down by Kai Adler.
Now, Kai looked at Draco with an unreadable expression.
Feeling the weight of those stares, Draco's composure slipped. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat and even edged slightly away from Pansy.
"Pansy, shut up!" he snapped, glaring at her.
It was as if he were trying to distance himself entirely from her words—and their implications.
Harry blinked in disbelief. Was this really Draco Malfoy? The same smug, blood-purist boy who never missed a chance to sneer at Muggle-borns?
Kai, observing the scene, found it rather amusing.
Apparently, the events surrounding the Chamber of Secrets had truly impacted Draco's worldview. Perhaps being rescued by Harry and Hermione—his former enemies—had forced him to reconsider a few things.
In any case, Draco seemed far more bearable than his father.
Even though he'd reprimanded Pansy quickly, her spiteful words had already triggered a wave of whispers across the other House tables.
Hermione's age and heritage made many question the legitimacy of her receiving such a prestigious honor.
Most second-years hadn't even learned the Patronus Charm, let alone cast it successfully.
Ron, growing anxious, leaned toward Kai. "Wait… can Hermione really cast the Patronus? I've never seen her do it…"
Harry, more astute, studied Kai closely. "It was you, wasn't it? You're the one who cast it."
Kai remained unbothered. He retrieved the tea set he always carried and calmly poured tea into the cups reserved for Harry and Ron.
"Just watch. Hermione is a genius—her talent in spellwork is greater than mine."
"Oh…" Ron accepted the tea, still looking uncertain.
"Really?" Harry asked, cautiously sipping his cup.
Kai wasn't just flattering her. When it came to spellcasting, Hermione's raw aptitude was higher than his. She absorbed theory with astonishing speed and showed intuitive control, especially in charms.
Her only limitation was her magical core—still developing, still too shallow to maintain a corporeal Patronus for long.
But that was changing.
Ever since the two of them had performed the ancient Weissenbund bonding ceremony, he could sense her magical presence growing steadily, inching ever closer to his own.
Soon, she would be able to stand beside him—not behind.
Of course, that excluded the matter of the Obscurus.
Up on stage, Fudge, now noticing the doubting stares among the students, looked visibly annoyed.
He wasn't concerned about Hermione—he was offended that his words were being questioned.
They weren't doubting her.
They were doubting him.
He turned to the crowd, his voice sharp.
"Silence!"
The murmuring quickly died down.
Fudge looked back at Hermione with a smile once again firmly in place—his shift in expression so swift it could rival a Bavarian mask artist in a street play.
"Miss Granger, I believe you'll need to demonstrate your qualifications for the award."
He quickly added, as if afraid to seem harsh.
"Of course, I believe in your ability—I simply think it would be wonderful for your classmates to witness such brilliance firsthand."
Hermione glanced toward the audience—and caught Kai's eyes again.
What in Merlin's name did you do to make the Minister so wary of you? she wondered, bewildered.
But she didn't hesitate.
This had been her plan from the beginning.
She stepped forward and raised her wand.
The Great Hall went deathly quiet. Every student and every teacher now had their eyes fixed on her.
Even the professors behind her were leaning forward in interest—none of them had ever seen a second-year attempt a Patronus.
Hermione tightened her grip around her wand.
"Calm your mind," came a gentle voice beside her.
She looked up to see Dumbledore offering her a warm, reassuring smile.
It helped.
So did the glance she stole at Kai—sitting calmly, one leg crossed, hands cradling his teacup, as if he were at a café in Vienna rather than a school ceremony.
Hermione closed her eyes.
She pictured her birthday night—the flickering candles, the soft laughter, and Kai's rare, honest smile.
The memory made her smile.
She lifted her wand and spoke the incantation, clear and unwavering:
"Expecto Patronum."