Basilisk.
It wasn't some made-up creature—no, it existed for real in the wizarding world.
If you looked into it carefully, you'd find that tales of this magical beast had been passed down in the Muggle world for over a thousand years. It was even mentioned in the Bible.
Behind every myth, there's always a secret few know.
From a different angle, maybe the person who wrote the Bible had been a wizard—or at least had contact with the magical world. Otherwise, how could they describe such a creature?
Still, compared to the symbolic language in the Bible, the description in Hermione's copy of Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them was far more detailed...
"This type of serpent can grow to an enormous size and live for several hundred years. It hatches from a rooster's egg, incubated by a toad. Disgusting."
Hermione visibly grimaced as she read aloud. Probably because the illustration of the toad on the page was a little too vivid for her liking.
She took a quick sip of hot chocolate to shake off the discomfort, then turned her eyes back to the book.
"A Basilisk's method of killing is extremely terrifying. In addition to its venomous fangs, its gaze is lethal. Anyone who makes direct eye contact with it dies instantly."
Her voice paused there. That line matched exactly with what Myrtle had described. And now, Hermione understood why Draco had passed her the book.
But there was still something bothering her. Everyone who had been attacked recently had only been petrified—not killed.
"Did I miss something?"
When in doubt—ask Draco.
Not that she even realized it herself, but Draco had come to hold a rather special place in Hermione's mind.
Thinking of him, she turned her gaze from the book to Draco sitting nearby. But there was something curious in her expression as she looked at him...
"What are you doing?"
Draco was holding his wand—but he wasn't casting anything. He was just... holding it in position. At first, Hermione hadn't thought much of it, but now she noticed something strange. There had to be some purpose behind it.
And sure enough, if one were attuned to magical energy, they'd be able to sense the steady flow of power gathered at the tip of Draco's wand.
Draco, seated calmly in an armchair, his eyes half-closed, answered without opening them fully.
"Control training."
"That's training?"
"Yeah. Keep your magic focused at your wand's tip without casting any spells. The longer you hold it, the more precise your control becomes—and it helps you understand your wand better too."
"I see... Like this?"
Hermione perked up with interest, pulled out her own wand, and began trying to follow Draco's instructions.
And just like that, the Basilisk was no longer on her mind.
"Right. Don't force too much magic through at once. Build it up slowly."
"Mm-hmm."
Draco didn't hold anything back. He shared the technique casually, not realizing—or maybe not caring—that tips like these weren't something most wizarding families had access to. This was the kind of knowledge passed down in old wizarding bloodlines. A piece of inherited magical legacy.
Fortunately, Hermione didn't know that. Nor was she aware of the subtle shift in Draco's attitude toward her lately. If she had, her pride might have made her hesitate to follow his advice so easily.
But Draco didn't seem to mind one bit.
And so, in the middle of the Slytherin common room, Hermione sat quietly trying out the training Draco had shown her.
She probably never imagined she'd find herself back here again, in this way.
Much less that the atmosphere between them would be... surprisingly pleasant.
"Your output's too high—and completely uneven!"
"Hah... Easy for you to say!"
"Well, it is easy."
Hermione scowled at Draco as he moved closer and took hold of her hand. Feeling like she was being treated like an idiot, she puffed out her cheeks in frustration.
Never mind how things had suddenly escalated to this point—she'd completely forgotten that Draco was still holding her hand.
"Focus. I don't have all day to waste on something this simple."
"Ugh, you're so annoying."
As she struggled to maintain her magical flow, Hermione gritted her teeth and mentally stabbed a little imaginary Draco doll repeatedly. Still, she had to admit she'd seriously underestimated this training.
Draco had looked so relaxed while doing it, but now that she was trying it herself, she realized just how naive she'd been.
There's no shortcut to becoming stronger...
Though the Slytherin common room didn't offer a view of the sky, she could still see the huge, sluggish squid drifting at the bottom of the Black Lake. That meant it was nearly nightfall.
At twilight, the squid always appeared beneath the lake—a little secret only Slytherins knew.
Draco noticed the squid, and only then did he finally let go of Hermione's hand. She was red-faced and breathless, her whole body limp with exhaustion. The sight gave Draco a strong sense of déjà vu.
Unlike last time, Hermione didn't even have the strength to shoot him a glare...
"Here, drink this. It'll help."
She wasn't anywhere near magical burnout yet, but Draco knew exactly how unpleasant it could get. The potion he pulled out was designed to ease that very feeling.
But, as expected, the stubborn girl in front of him wasn't eager to accept his kindness.
"I don't... need it... huff."
Hermione, too weak to even lift a finger, still tried to refuse. Whether it was because she was embarrassed or because she didn't want Draco to be the one helping her—it was anyone's guess.
"I see how it is..."
"That's not what I meant!"
Hermione shot a furious, flustered look at the potion hovering near her lips, clamping her mouth shut like she was afraid Draco might force-feed her.
"You sure you've got this? Pansy was in the same state as you once."
"..."
"She handled it way better than you, though."
Draco wasn't sure if he was imagining things, but the moment he finished speaking, something dark flashed through Hermione's watery eyes—like murderous intent.
Before he could react, she snatched the potion bottle with her mouth, tipped her head back, and drank it in one go.
Her glare as she did it, though... was downright terrifying.