The hospital wing smelled strongly of bitter Skele-Gro and disinfectant.
Madam Pomfrey had just finished chasing away all the unnecessary visitors with loud complaints, leaving only the injured students behind for observation.
Hermione lay on the bed at the far end of the room.
Beneath the blanket pulled over her head, her brown eyes were swollen and dull, their usual brightness gone.
Behind the partition, Harry and Ron were snoring softly.
They had been injured during the fight hours earlier, but Madam Pomfrey's potions had put them into a deep sleep.
Hermione was not asleep.
She was trembling, unable to forget the image replaying endlessly in her mind.
The empty corner.
The blood-covered figure appearing out of nowhere. And the victim standing in exactly the perfect place.
Suddenly, she heard the faint sound of cloth rustling.
Hermione froze. Slowly, she lowered the blanket.
First, a mass of messy brown curls appeared from beneath the edge of the covers.
After being trapped under the blanket for so long, the rebellious strands stuck out in every direction, making her look like a small squirrel crawling out of a tree hollow.
Then her eyes appeared cautiously.
Only the top half of her face was visible, the rest still hidden beneath the white blanket as if she were trying to shield herself from the world.
The mysterious figure stepped inside.
Lucian had not changed into a patient's robe. He still wore his Ravenclaw uniform, stained with blood.
The bandages on his shoulder looked stark under the dim light.
"Quite an evening, wouldn't you say?" Lucian said quietly. "A fine demonstration of Gryffindor courage."
His voice was soft, but it drained the warmth from the room.
He leaned casually against the metal railing at the foot of Hermione's bed and looked down at her.
Hermione stared at his shoulder, where blood still seeped through the bandages. She did not ask if he was all right.
Her voice was hoarse, carrying a restrained accusation.
"That corner... was empty."
Lucian's expression did not change.
"Your observation skills are as sharp as ever, Granger," he said calmly. "Go on."
"I was pushed against the wall," Hermione continued, staring straight into his eyes.
"My line of sight passed right over that spot. It was empty. But the moment the explosion happened, you appeared there."
She drew in a breath.
"And Harry's spells were flying everywhere, but I don't remember him firing a blasting curse into that dead corner."
Then she voiced the thought that had terrified her.
"Did you blow yourself up on purpose? Or guide the spell there? You used the chaos... to frame Harry."
Lucian suddenly laughed.
"An excellent deduction. Clear logic. Careful observation."
He lowered his head slightly. The approving look in his eyes made Hermione shrink back.
"But does that change anything?"
"You're admitting it?" Hermione's eyes widened.
"I praised your intelligence," Lucian said mildly. "I did not confess to your accusation."
He paused.
"But let's assume you're right. Suppose the corner really was empty. Suppose the spell's path really was strange. What difference does it make?"
He lifted his uninjured hand and pointed toward the beds behind the partition.
"Who drew their wands first in that corridor? Who lost control because of a single insult? Who started throwing area spells in a narrow hallway?"
Hermione opened her mouth, but no words came out.
"You saw Snape's reaction. You saw Professor McGonagall's disappointment," Lucian continued softly.
"If Potter and Weasley had controlled their emotions, if they had tried to solve things with rules or logic the way you did, then it would not matter whether that corner was empty or not.
This disaster would never have happened."
He tilted his head slightly.
"Flies only land on cracked eggs, Granger. A trap only works on people who charge forward blindly."
Hermione closed her eyes painfully.
"But... Malfoy called me a Mudblood," she whispered. "Harry and Ron were defending me."
"Defending you?"
The question carried pure contempt.
Lucian leaned closer.
His face moved near Hermione's, and the dark reflection of her pale expression appeared in his eyes.
"Touching," he said quietly. "But do you really believe that?"
"Look at the result. Malfoy has a swollen face. A minor injury. And he only lost fifty points.
I would bet Snape will earn them back in Potions class soon enough."
His gaze moved slowly across Hermione's swollen face.
"And you...
You became the school's latest joke because of your teeth.
And you're the one carrying the guilt for Gryffindor losing one hundred and sixty points."
"All the effort you made. Every point you earned in class. All of it vanished in a moment of their righteous anger.
Is that their way of protecting you? Turning you into the excuse for violence? Making you the spark for their reckless energy?"
"Stop it!" Hermione shouted, tears spilling over again. "You're not welcome here! You did this on purpose! You just wanted to watch Gryffindor suffer!"
Lucian straightened slowly.
He looked at her with the calm sympathy one might give a wounded animal.
"I do not hate Gryffindor," he said. "I only hate stupidity."
"I came to offer you some advice, Hermione."
"Lions are herd animals. They solve problems with roaring and clawing. But you are not a lion."
His voice softened, as if explaining an unpleasant truth.
"You are too intelligent. Too orderly. Too determined to earn recognition the proper way.
Among people who act purely on instinct, you will only suffer. Because whenever you try to build something, they will destroy it in a moment of impulse."
"Just like tonight."
Hermione stared at him, trembling.
She wanted to argue. She wanted to say Harry and Ron were her best friends. She wanted to say that impulsiveness could also be courage.
But the loss of one hundred and sixty points weighed heavily in her mind.
And the echo of that word.
Mudblood.
She was exhausted.
All this time, she had been pulling them forward—helping with homework, searching the library for answers, cleaning up their messes whenever they caused trouble.
Tonight she had failed to stop them.
And she had become the helpless victim they were protecting.
"Think about it," Lucian said quietly. "You still have that Galleon I gave you, don't you?"
He turned toward the door. His black robes moved softly, reminding Hermione strangely of Snape.
At the doorway, he stopped.
"Rules exist to bind the weak," he said. "And they exist as tools for the strong."
"You are clever enough to see the truth already. You recognized what was happening tonight, yet you could not change the outcome."
He glanced back slightly.
"What does that tell you? It tells you that as long as you stand on the side of rules and righteousness, you will always be the one sacrificed."
The curtain fell behind him.
His footsteps faded away.
Hermione Granger sat alone in the darkness. On the bed beside her, Ron turned over in his sleep and muttered.
"Nice hit... Harry..."
That single sleepy sentence shattered the last piece of Hermione's mental defense.
Her hand trembled as she lifted the blanket and wiped the tears from her eyes.
Then she reached into her pocket and touched the Galleon engraved with the Ouroboros.
Moonlight spilled across the floor.
She expected to feel anger... Or sorrow.
Instead, she felt a strange clarity.
She knew Harry and Ron were her friends. She knew Lucian was manipulating her. She knew the Ravenclaw boy meant trouble.
But the most frightening thought remained.
Perhaps... Lucian was right.
Some battles in this world could not be won by shouting and firing spells. And constantly cleaning up after them was slowly draining all of her strength.
Hermione wiped away the last of her tears. But the light in her eyes had changed.
It had dimmed.
Or perhaps it had simply grown deeper.
__________
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