Chapter 141
Hermione couldn't bear to keep watching.
Hidden in the shadows, she saw that with every page Pansy turned, the color drained a little more from her face. Several times, Pansy seemed on the verge of looking away—but something compelled her to keep reading stubbornly.
Hermione froze where she was, not daring to move.
Fortunately, Pansy stayed where she was and didn't take the book away. That gave Hermione a faint sense of hope.
She watched numbly as Pansy continued flipping through Moste Potente Potions. As time passed, Pansy's reactions became less intense, though the disgust in her eyes remained.
Suddenly, her hand stopped.
Hermione let out a silent breath of relief, thinking Pansy had finally lost interest.
But the next moment, the situation took an unexpected turn.
The girl who had been pale with fear moments ago now had a faint flush on her face. Her eyes shone as she stared fixedly at a particular page.
Then Pansy seemed to make up her mind.
She took a deep breath, grabbed the page—
Rip.
Hermione watched in shock as Pansy tore the entire page out. After folding it several times, she slipped it carefully into her pocket.
For a moment, Hermione couldn't help thinking that whoever had enchanted these books had overlooked the simplest method of damage—tearing them by hand.
Then she remembered she herself had once torn a page from a book about basilisk lore the previous year.
Pansy was about to return the book to the shelf when she paused, as if recalling something.
She opened it again, took out a quill, and made several marks inside. After checking carefully for a moment, she seemed satisfied. Then she glanced around to make sure no one was nearby, buried the book beneath a pile of others, and hurried away.
The moment Pansy left, Hermione rushed out from her hiding place.
She didn't even care if the movement might give her away. Recovering the book was now her only priority.
She reached the old shelf, removed the books Pansy had used as cover, picked up the heavy volume of Moste Potente Potions, and carried it back toward the Restricted Section.
She still couldn't imagine what Pansy had seen that could provoke such a reaction.
Driven by curiosity, Hermione turned to the section where the page had been torn out. But there was no clear clue.
She guessed Pansy had scratched the table of contents to hide any sign of the missing page.
With a sigh, Hermione returned the book to its proper place.
---
After a while, Hermione glanced out the window and realized how much time had passed. The sun was already setting. Hogwarts Library closed at eight, and she didn't have much study time left.
She left the Restricted Section, found an empty seat, removed the Invisibility Cloak, and opened her textbooks.
There was no point overthinking.
In her view, it was unlikely that Pansy could successfully brew any of the advanced potions from that book.
The Time-Turner had been confiscated, and Professor McGonagall would not return it. Hermione had no choice but to accept that reality.
Her current course load was no longer overwhelming. Before, she had exhausted herself because she refused to give up any subject.
Now that her choices were limited, she decided she would excel in the ones she still had.
Hermione's attitude toward study was completely different from Harry and Ron's. She treated every assignment and every lesson seriously—even Potions with Snape.
She wanted top marks in every subject.
Harry and Ron occasionally copied her homework, something she strongly disapproved of.
---
"Achoo!"
Ron sneezed and rubbed his nose. He nudged Harry with his elbow.
"Harry, do you think I'm allergic to cat fur?"
The two of them were hurriedly finishing homework in the Gryffindor common room. Crookshanks sat nearby, staring at them with bright, unblinking eyes, as if they were committing some crime. His permanently irritated expression looked even more judgmental than usual.
"Stop staring at us like that. Your owner isn't here," Ron muttered guiltily. He tried to pat Crookshanks, but the cat twisted away neatly, his yellow eyes full of disdain.
After the rejection, Ron muttered to Harry, "Would've been great if Crookshanks had bitten that rat back then. I can't believe Peter Pettigrew had the nerve to fool everyone like that."
He leaned closer.
"So—when are you going to meet your godfather? There shouldn't be any problems now, right?"
Harry shook his head. He planned to ask Professor Lupin after tomorrow's Defence Against the Dark Arts class.
He wanted to meet Sirius—but didn't know how.
Maybe Sirius was like Pettigrew had been, quietly moving around Hogwarts in secret.
Harry stretched, pushed the thoughts aside, and returned to his homework.
---
While most students were studying, Pansy had already rushed back to the Slytherin girls' dormitory, excitement written all over her face.
Her roommates were out—perfect timing.
The girls' dormitory differed from the boys' mainly in decoration: soft colors, delicate ornaments, and small personal touches. A pink wind chime hung near the bed.
But after hanging it, Pansy realized something.
It never rang.
Slytherin's dormitories were underground—there were no windows, no breeze.
Now she dragged a chair to her desk, then threw herself onto the bed, clutching her favorite oval pillow tightly to steady her nerves.
Carefully, she unfolded the page she had torn from the book and smoothed it flat.
Then she took out fresh parchment and began copying, writing and sketching while frequently glancing at the original.
If someone had been behind her, they would have seen dense lines of text—and, most noticeably, a pink heart drawn in the corner.
"Frozen Ashwinder egg…" Pansy read softly.
Her expression quickly fell.
"That sounds expensive."
After a moment, she reassured herself.
"It'll be worth it."
She was glad she hadn't spent much money this term. The cost would be painful—but manageable.
There really weren't many ways to spend money at Hogwarts. And she hadn't gone to Hogsmeade much. One visit had ended early; another hadn't happened at all.
Her savings were still intact.
Buying sweets barely counted.
After all, a girl's appetite might be limited—but her pursuit of beauty was not. As long as she avoided expensive cosmetics, her money would last.
"Good thing I passed out that day," she murmured, her face heating slightly at the memory.
She wasn't entirely sure what she had done while drunk.