Dumbledore was clearly curious about how Grindelwald would teach.
After some consideration, he nodded in agreement.
In truth, even if he hadn't, there wasn't much he could have done. He couldn't exactly come to blows with Morin and Grindelwald over this-especially after Morin's words had already made him wary of Quirrell.
Dumbledore was no fool.
Far from it.
Over a month later.
Despite the changes Morin had brought, some things still followed their original course.
Malfoy and Harry were still rivals.
Hermione still didn't get along with Harry and Ron.
That part didn't surprise Morin.
What did surprise him-
Why are you crying in my office?
It was Halloween.
Morin had just finished changing and was about to head to the feast when someone knocked.
He opened the door.
Hermione stood there, eyes red, tears streaming, sobbing so hard she could barely breathe.
Morin felt a headache coming on.
Comforting her wasn't difficult. He had plenty of ways to calm a twelve-year-old girl.
The problem was that if he did, the Golden Trio might turn into a Duo.
This was already a mess.
Morin scratched his head.
Solve the immediate problem first. The rest could wait.
"Oh, Hermione. Good to see you again," he said, stepping aside. "It looks like something has made you very unhappy. That's fine-tell me about it so I can feel happy. I mean, so I can help you."
He gestured toward the sofa.
"Please, have a seat. What happened?"
In hindsight, asking might have been a mistake.
At first, Hermione only sobbed quietly. But compared to whoever had upset her, Morin's voice was too gentle, the sofa too soft.
She broke.
Tears. Snot. Everything.
She poured it all out-how hard she tried to fit in, how hard she worked to help them study, how she taught them spells, only to be called a freak.
A nightmare.
The young Hermione was completely devastated.
And so she remembered.
The man who had "saved" her a month ago. Who praised her without reservation. Who personally escorted her back to her dorm.
So she came to him.
"So..." Hermione asked at last, eyes swollen and red. "Was I wrong?"
"What is right, and what is wrong?" Morin handed her tissues and a steaming cup of coffee. "You believed you were doing the right thing. For them, right now, they think it was wrong."
He paused.
"There is no absolute right."
"Thank you..." Hermione sniffed. "Then what should I do?"
"First, understand your position," Morin said calmly, slipping into the role of mentor. "What you should do. And what you shouldn't."
Helping others was good.
But not everyone deserved it.
"And there's something else," he added. "You should hold your head a little higher."
"H-higher?" Hermione looked confused, glancing down, then around.
"Not physically," Morin sighed. "I mean your status. Your confidence."
"Confidence...?"
"Let's reflect," Morin said. "What kind of person are you?"
He gestured.
"Take out your wand."
Hermione did so.
"A month ago, right in front of me, you cast multiple spells," Morin continued. "Stupefy. Alohomora. Obliviate."
He glanced aside.
"And Professor Flitwick tells me first-years are still working on the Levitation Charm. Wingardium Leviosa?"
"It's Win-gar-dium Levi-o-sa," Hermione corrected softly. "Make the 'gar' long."
"You're right. My mistake," Morin said without embarrassment. "I'm not very good with incantations. I don't use them."
Hermione froze.
"...You don't use incantations?"
"I intended to tell you this a month ago," Morin continued. "But you never came to find me."
No incantations.
Her earlier sadness vanished, replaced by shock.
Without spells... how do you use magic?
"What is magic?" Morin asked.
"...Magic is..." Hermione hesitated.
"If I asked you how to pronounce a spell, you'd answer instantly," Morin said. "But this question-only wizards at Dumbledore's level truly think about it."
He continued evenly.
"Magic is the manifestation of a special energy that exists in the world."
"Incantations and wands are tools. Ways to use that energy."
"So if I use another method-what's the problem?"
"I see..." Hermione's eyes widened. "That's why you don't need a wand or a spell?"
"Exactly. Silent casting and wandless casting already exist. Once mastered, isn't it the same?"
Morin drew his wand.
"A wand guides magic. It makes casting easier, stronger, more precise."
"But it isn't mandatory."
"For beginners, it's excellent support. But if you want to advance-to truly understand magic-wandless and non-verbal casting are essential."
"But..." Hermione hesitated. "Why tell me this? I'm just a first-year. Everyone hates me..."
"Everyone doesn't hate you," Morin said firmly. "And those who do will change."
He shook his head.
"People envy those slightly better than themselves. But for geniuses they can never reach, they can only admire."
He met her eyes.
"I'm telling you this because you have immense talent. I want to pass on my understanding of magic to you. And make you that genius."
Things were already derailed.
Might as well go all in.
The butterfly effect had already taken hold. Harry skipped the midnight duel. Hermione never went to the Trophy Room. No troll. No near-death crisis.
The original path was gone.
So Morin changed his approach.
And truthfully-he was impressed.
Brilliant. Quick learner. Obedient. Easy on the eyes.
Hard to find.
He intended to pass on his understanding of magic-and let her carry that path forward.
As for the consequences?
Too much had changed already. A little more didn't matter.
"As a professor, I believe in teaching according to the student," Morin said. "You have the talent. Since you came to me, I'm giving you a choice."
"If you're willing, I'll teach you everything I know. If not, that's fine. You can still ask about spells anytime."
He smiled.
"I study incantations too. Even if my pronunciation is off, I understand how sound moves magic."
He pointed.
"Wingardium Leviosa."
The pronunciation was wrong.
But the stack of heavy papers nearby floated smoothly into the air.
"Oh. Right," Morin said casually. "Those are the sixth-years' exams for tomorrow."
He set them down.
"Think about it. No rush. And don't worry-I don't hold grudges. If you ever feel uncomfortable, go straight to Headmaster Dumbledore."
Hermione was dazed.
She'd come to cry.
Now she was being invited to become a personal student.
But one thing was clear.
She wasn't sad anymore.
"We can leave this for now," Morin said, standing and slipping on his robes. The star-patterned fabric gave him an air of quiet mystery. "Tonight is the Halloween feast, right?"
"Best thing to do now is eat something sweet."
He smiled.
"As for what others think-do you think I've ever cared?"
Hermione thought seriously.
Then shook her head.
"You're already... very excellent. Powerful. Young. And-"
She blushed and stopped.
"And handsome," Morin added shamelessly. "Yes. Practically perfect."
He continued calmly.
"I can ignore others because I'm excellent enough that jealousy can't touch me. You have that potential too. You're smart, talented, disciplined."
"Have confidence."
"Others don't understand you because they're mediocre. Geniuses are never understood."
"I'm not pretty," Hermione muttered. "My teeth-my hair-"
"Time changes everything," Morin said meaningfully. "I already know what to give you for Christmas. You'll love it."
He snapped his fingers.
"You should look normal again. Vulnerability is fine-but only for those you trust."
Warmth flowed through Hermione. Like sinking into a perfectly warm bath.
When it faded, Morin held up a mirror.
Her eyes and nose were back to normal.
"Minor healing magic," he said. "Exactly what you needed."
He opened the door.
"Let's go. We'll miss the feast otherwise."
-
They arrived together.
A thousand bats flitted across the walls and ceiling. Another thousand hovered like dark clouds above the tables, candlelight flickering inside carved pumpkins.
Food appeared instantly.
Morin walked Hermione to the Gryffindor table.
"Miss Granger was a huge help to me," he said casually-making sure Harry heard-before heading to the staff table.
Ron blinked.
"Isn't that the Defense professor for the other years?" he whispered to Harry. "What did Hermione even-"
"Ron," Harry cut in sharply. "You should apologize to Hermione."
Ron froze.
Earlier, Harry had felt Ron went too far. He hadn't spoken up.
But now Hermione had arrived with Morin.
And Morin had praised her.
Compared to that-
Ron's feelings didn't matter much.
And if Ron said anything bad about Morin...
Harry clenched his fist.
No one insults Morin.
No one.
Ron: "???"
Who am I?
Where am I?
Why did my teammate suddenly betray me?
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