As we left Transfiguration and made our way down the corridor, Hermione politely excused herself.
"I'd like to look ahead at lessons," she explained, cheeks flushed with excitement. "The library must be extraordinary."
And just like that, an opportunity — a brilliant, glittering opportunity — ignited in my mind.
Hermione Granger was obsessed with truth, with knowledge, with evidence. The perfect catalyst.
If I introduced Lord of the Rings magic — disguised as ancient wizarding history — into the library, and if the right people discovered it…belief would grow.And belief was the currency my system demanded.
I smiled to myself.
The Hogwarts Library was a labyrinth of forgotten shelves and dusty tomes. Even Dumbledore, for all his eccentric brilliance, hadn't read everything tucked away in those endless aisles. If something new appeared there… it would simply be assumed to have always been there.
The plan unfolded rapidly:
Step 1 — Create forged journal entries.Written in elegant, archaic quill-script. The supposed writings of Mithrandir — Gandalf the Grey. I would recount his battles, his magic, his deep connection to divine power… embedding just enough legitimacy to spark curiosity.
Step 2 — Introduce artifacts.A mithril ring. A sliver of elven steel. A fragment of Balrog hide — whatever I could conjure from my system, properly aged.
Step 3 — Let Hermione be the discovery.She would question, research, obsess — and ultimately believe.
Her belief would spread like wildfire among the most academically influential witches and wizards in school.
I turned to Harry and Draco, who were obliviously chatting about Quidditch.
"You two go ahead to Potions," I said smoothly. "I need to drop by the library."
Harry frowned in confusion. Draco shrugged. Both trusted me far more than they should.
I made my way alone through the grand castle corridors, cloak brushing the stone floor with the softness of power. Students darted aside as I approached — some intimidated, some curious. All useful.
The library doors loomed tall and proud.
Inside, candlelight flickered across endless shelves — the perfect birthplace for legends.
I slipped between rows until I found a quiet, forgotten corner near the Restricted Section. With a wave of my hand, a notebook materialized — already filled, every page crafted with supernatural precision. The soft leather cover read:
The Chronicles of the IstariBy Mithrandir (Gandalf the Grey)
I placed it strategically among dusty tomes — a place where a certain bushy-haired girl would wander.
Then, I whispered a spell.
A subtle Notice-Me-Not charm… except inverted.Not to hide it.To make it the most intriguing, irresistible book in the room to those with intellect hungry enough to see it.
A perfect trap for Hermione Granger.
I turned to leave, satisfaction curling in my chest like a flame — but paused.
Because from the darkness deeper in the Restricted Section…I felt a power.Familiar.Watching.
The castle was aware.And Dumbledore — or perhaps someone worse — was already paying attention.
Good.
The game would be far more fun with opponents who thought they could stop me.