After sending off his letter, Qin Yu felt as if a weight had been lifted from his shoulders—even the lingering "crazy" symptoms seemed to fade away. Now all he had to do was wait for Dumbledore's reply.
He picked up the last cookie from his plate, munching as he headed downstairs in search of his favorite little witch.
No sign of her in the living room. Without hesitation, Qin Yu knocked on her bedroom door.
"Who is it?" came Hermione's voice from inside.
"It's me!" he replied.
"Who?" she repeated.
"It's me!" he insisted.
"Hmm?"
"Hmm!"
The exchange was like some secret code, and Qin Yu couldn't help but think that anyone overhearing them would assume they'd both lost their minds. Maybe his "condition" was contagious?
Still, he could read a lot from those few words—their tone, their mood. Maybe this was what happened when you spent enough time together: you didn't need to say much to understand each other.
In any case, the message was clear—he'd asked if he could come in, and Hermione had given her silent approval.
He turned the handle and stepped into the small room, instantly greeted by the familiar, faint scent that always clung to her.
"I never noticed this before. Aren't Westerners supposed to have a strong body odor? Maybe transmigrating changed my sense of smell… She always smells so nice," he mused, instinctively taking a deeper breath.
Of course, no one could answer that question for him—not even the Divine Choice System, which had been suspiciously quiet lately.
Oh right, I keep forgetting I actually have a cheat-like system. For a second there, I almost believed everything I'd gained was thanks to my own hard work!
Remember your roots, he scolded himself. No matter how strong you become, never forget where you started!
He mentally rolled his eyes at himself, but his feet carried him over to where Hermione sat hunched over her desk, scribbling away. A quick glance showed she was working on potions notes.
She must have a lot to write, because even as he stood beside her, she didn't look up—just muttered, "Wait a sec~ Just a sec, I'm almost done…"
Qin Yu chuckled and didn't interrupt, simply reaching over to gently ruffle her hair before finding a seat for himself.
Bored, his eyes landed on a sheet of paper with a doodle on it. He picked it up for a closer look. Judging by the hairstyle and outfit—not to mention the giant "Q" on the scarf—it was clearly meant to be him.
Terrifying! I've become the legendary Mr. Q of the Aurora Society!
His thoughts zigzagged again. He noticed a smudge on the cartoon's head, as if the ink had bled. He mumbled, "The lines are a bit blurry. Did someone spill water on this?"
No sooner had he spoken than Hermione's pen froze mid-sentence. Inside her thick, woolen socks, her toes curled so hard against her slippers it was a wonder she didn't tear right through them.
But after a moment, the pen resumed its smooth flow, and her feet relaxed.
Meanwhile, the little witch was screaming internally, playing dead: That was something Hermione Granger-from-an-hour-ago did! It has nothing to do with the current me!
Qin Yu glanced at the way she'd stiffened and then relaxed, but had no idea what was going on. It was just a bit of water—no big deal.
He let it go, grabbed a book to use as a backing, and, just like in the Hogwarts library, started doodling in the blank space on the page.
This time, he drew a little girl with fluffy hair, also in robes and a scarf—this one with a big, curly "H" on it.
H? Like the red center tile in mahjong? What a weird association. There's no way my little witch is some kind of mahjong boss.
He studied his drawing. Something was missing.
"Oh, right!"
A mischievous grin crept across his face as he added two large buck teeth to the girl's smile.
There. Canon-accurate! Who could accuse me of being out of character now?
He admired his handiwork, nodding in satisfaction.
But when he looked up, he found himself staring into a pair of furious, indignant eyes.
"And who's that supposed to be?"
"Ahem, I just thought it looked kind of cute…"
"I asked: Who. Is. That?"
"It's just a cartoon, you know? A little exaggeration's normal…"
"Who. Is. That?"
"Come on, don't get hung up on the details. Learn to let go. Why do you need to know, Hermione?"
"Alright, you want to see what stubborn looks like? I'll show you!" she growled, pouncing on him and sinking her teeth into his arm.
"Ow! Ow, that hurts! Let go!"
"No! I'm going to bite you to death!" she mumbled around his arm, refusing to let go no matter how much he pleaded.
Hermione tackled him onto the bed and chomped down, venting her outrage as he begged for mercy.
When it became clear she wasn't letting up, Qin Yu could only wrap his arms around her and let her burn off her anger.
Eventually, she tired herself out and stopped.
He seized the chance to apologize profusely.
Then, like a deflated balloon, the little witch looked up at him—face full of grievance—and asked, "Are my front teeth really that big?"
"Of course not! Definitely not! Your teeth aren't even as big as Luo Jiuchuan's!" Qin Yu replied, eyes shining with conviction.
"Who's Luo Jiuchuan?" she asked, puzzled.
"Oh, Luo Jiuchuan… is a magical creature from a place called the Bilibili Continent. They're called 'Apo Pigs,' and Luo Jiuchuan is one of them…" Qin Yu improvised wildly.
"A magical creature?!" Hermione's eyes sparkled with curiosity.
Before she could launch into a barrage of questions, Qin Yu hurried on, "Anyway, your front teeth are only a tiny bit bigger than average. Actually, mine are pretty big too—see?"
He flashed a big, toothy grin, showing off his own prominent incisors.
"…Now that you mention it, they really are pretty big," she admitted, examining his teeth closely. The more she looked, the more she noticed his front teeth were larger than the rest, which made her feel much better.
She tapped his teeth experimentally with her finger, then poked his nose and lips for good measure.
The ticklish sensation made Qin Yu squirm, but after letting her have her fun, he caught her hand and held it, gently squeezing her fingers.
"So, if you don't like the drawing, I'll tear it up for you."
"Forget it, just leave it. Cartoons are supposed to be a little exaggerated—it's normal!"
"Hmm?"
"I think it's kind of cute."
"Oh?"
"What's wrong? Why are you so fixated on tearing it up? You need to learn to let go~"
"Hmph—"
Seeing Hermione mimic his words with such a straight face, Qin Yu couldn't help but laugh out loud.
But then, embarrassment got the better of him.
Since the little witch was right there in his arms, well within his grasp, he decided it was time to take his revenge.
No need for words—a gentleman takes action! He gave her three swift, playful spanks as punishment.
Even though it didn't really hurt, Hermione played along, yelping in mock pain—though she kept her voice low so her parents wouldn't hear.
The cartoon was spared in the end; Hermione carefully tucked it into her notebook for safekeeping.
After that, Qin Yu discussed holiday plans with her. He wanted to do some research, so he suggested a trip to the bookshop in Diagon Alley. As it happened, Hermione wanted to buy a few books herself, so they happily settled on a plan for tomorrow—a day out in Diagon Alley together.
After lunch, Qin Yu and the Granger family settled in for a detective drama marathon—partly to return the VHS tapes soon, but mostly because the show was just too good to miss.
They stayed glued to the TV for the rest of the day, not heading to bed until they'd finished the entire series.
That night, Qin Yu didn't bother with any more "cultivation" experiments. He decided to take a break and wait for Dumbledore's reply. After bidding Hermione goodnight, he drifted off to sleep.
Hermione, meanwhile, took out her notebook with the cartoon tucked inside, scribbled a few lines, poked the cartoon version of Qin Yu again, glanced at the little girl she'd drawn beside it, and, almost unconsciously, clicked her teeth together. Then she shrugged, packed everything away, and crawled into bed.
Maybe it was because Qin Yu had napped there earlier, but as she closed her eyes, she could still catch a faint trace of his scent on her pillow.
The discovery made her lips curl into a soft, secret smile.
A quiet winter night, time wrapped in gentle warmth—the perfect recipe for sweet dreams.
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