When Hermione finished the last word of her essay, she turned off the soul lantern, just as Blake had instructed.
Frowning briefly at the uncomfortable sensation of her intellect returning to normal, she recalled what she had studied. A satisfied smile spread across her face—everything she'd just read had been fully absorbed and understood, not merely memorized.
She picked up her Transfiguration paper and reread it, growing prouder with every word. It was clear she had written it with a deeper grasp of the subject than ever before. With the soul lantern's help, her Transfiguration level had leapt from beginner to advanced in mere hours.
Hermione packed away her books into her small bag. There was no need to continue studying for now—she had completed most of her semester's plan in a single morning. Even some elective courses felt redundant. With the study buff from the soul lantern, her third-year material no longer felt difficult.
She tucked the soul lantern—a gift from Blake—carefully into her bag. With this, maybe chasing after him wouldn't be so hard in the future.
Feeling a bit hungry, she checked her watch. Shock crossed her face. Twelve o'clock? Only noon? Could she really have absorbed so much in just a couple of hours?
"Is it really noon, not midnight?" she muttered.
Just then, a soft crack echoed through the room as the house elf Baker appeared, holding a tray.
"Miss Granger, Master Blake asked Baker to bring you lunch when you were done."
"Lunch?" Hermione asked, startled. "Baker, what time is it really? Noon?"
Baker hesitated. "Miss Granger, Master Blake said the sky in the Room of Requirement reflects the real sky outside."
Hermione looked up. Though thick clouds blocked the sun, it was clearly still daytime. Her heart soared. That meant she'd gained hours of study—and more importantly, more time to spend with someone.
Her cheeks flushed at the thought.
"Miss Granger?" Baker asked nervously.
"Ah, it's nothing. Thank you, Baker."
"No need to thank me! If you need anything else, just call!" Baker said, clearly relieved.
Hermione softened. "You don't have to be so humble… Do you want to be free?"
"No! No! Baker is not like that bad elf Dobby! Baker is a good house elf and should never see the day of freedom!" he cried.
"I—I'm sorry, I didn't mean anything by it," Hermione said, flustered.
Seeing his aggrieved look, she sighed. Only house elves would see freedom as a punishment.
Her appetite dimmed as she glanced at the tray. She scanned the room—no Blake or Cassandra.
"Baker, do you know where Blake and the others went?"
He jumped. "They went inside." He pointed toward the door to the magical beasts area.
Hermione blinked. Blake had already moved the creatures out. What were they doing in there?
Approaching the door, she heard voices.
"No… I really don't have a drop left."
"Really? I think you still do…"
"I said no! I need nutrition!"
"I don't believe you… let me see!"
"Don't!"
"Let me see!"
Hermione's eyes widened. What in Merlin's name were they doing?
Grabbing the door handle, she flung it open.
Inside, Blake stood with a bottle behind his back. Cassandra was trying to snatch it. They both turned as the door burst open.
"What are you doing?" Hermione demanded.
She had asked first. That meant she wasn't the embarrassed one.
Blake and Cassandra both let out quiet sighs of relief.
"Cassandra wanted some nutrient solution for her flowers," Blake explained. "But I ran out last night when cultivating moonflowers."
Hermione nodded slowly. So that's what 'not a drop left' meant. She smoothed her hair, trying to hide her flushed face.
Cassandra also looked shaken. Thank goodness Hermione hadn't come in ten minutes earlier...
"Have you eaten?" Blake asked.
"…Not yet."
"Us neither. Let's eat together."
Blake stepped out first. Cassandra followed, holding the plant bag Blake had personally modified for her. She passed Hermione with a subtle air of pride. Hermione frowned. Cassandra's perfume smelled… strange.
Over lunch, Blake kept his portion light. Hermione, meanwhile, excitedly told him about her experience with the soul lantern.
"So you don't need to study so hard anymore?" Blake grinned.
"Yeah," Hermione beamed. Her heart warmed at the thought of how Blake had stayed up all night to help her.
"Are you still going to take those electives?" he asked.
"Nope."
"But you won't get O's in every subject then," Blake said.
Hermione smiled. "I used to study for grades. Now, with people like you around, what's the point of that? I'm studying to learn, not to be judged by letters."
Blake looked at her in surprise. The old Hermione would've never said that.
"You've really mastered the material?" he asked.
Hermione nodded. "Pretty much."
"Alright," Blake said. "I can arrange early exams for your electives. That way you can learn and still get the grades."
"Really?" Hermione's eyes widened.
"My dad's the headmaster." Blake grinned.
Hermione blinked.
"Professor McGonagall wouldn't want you exhausting yourself. I bet she'd be proud you mastered the material ahead of time. Just focus on preparing for the exam."
Cassandra sipped her milk tea in silence. Blake's concern for Hermione didn't stir jealousy anymore. After all, she was far ahead in the race.
"What electives did you take?" Hermione asked, realizing she'd been too busy to notice.
Blake handed her his schedule.
She pulled out hers and circled his electives in red ink.
Cassandra bit her straw. Memorizing Blake's schedule? She's making her move.
Being in Slytherin meant Cassandra rarely shared classes with Blake. She suddenly wished she could transfer—though she knew it was impossible.
Blake smiled innocently, and Cassandra stomped on his foot under the table. This guy had made the soul lantern for Granger—why else would she need more free time?
Blake didn't flinch. Instead, he pinched Cassandra's calf.
She yelped, spilling milk tea everywhere.
Hermione looked over, puzzled by Cassandra's sudden outburst.
—
Far away, Grindelwald, disguised as Old Bart, watched Ariana Dumbledore from a distance. He knew her face well. She had once been the key to his dreams with Albus—and to their eventual ruin.
But Ariana was supposed to be dead.
One of their spells had struck her. Afterward, Albus gave up their shared dream, returned to Hogwarts, and became his enemy.
"Bart, what are you looking at?" someone asked.
"Oh… nothing. Just thought that woman looked interesting. Never seen her before."
"That's Ariana Dumbledore. Master Blake's aunt," said Bolton, puffing on a pipe.
Grindelwald nearly choked. Ariana. Alive? Her face unchanged? Impossible.
He'd have someone investigate.
"Here." Bolton handed him a form.
"What's this?"
"Information form. Ariana started a security company on Master Blake's orders. We're now officially employees. Just a front, of course. Behind the scenes, we're still us."
Grindelwald narrowed his eyes. "I see…"
He looked out at the cloud sea, his heart lifting.
So Blake had finally set down this path.
Dumbledore… Can you really stop what's coming?
The future belongs to the young.