As the massive double doors of the Great Hall creaked open, the sounds of hundreds of conversations, the clinking of silverware, and the laughter of students filled the air. Harry, Ron, and Hermione made their way to their seats at the Gryffindor table, their excitement palpable. Jean, however, lingered behind with Professor McGonagall, feeling a mix of nerves and anticipation.
The hall buzzed with energy, and students were swapping stories about their summer escapades. Some were talking about the latest Quidditch scores, while others discussed their predictions for the new school year. Professor McGonagall led Jean up to the front, where the ancient and slightly frayed Sorting Hat sat proudly on a wooden stool. As Jean stood there, the chatter gradually subsided, and everyone's attention turned to the front.
"Good evening, everyone," Professor McGonagall's voice cut through the hall like a well-cast spell. "Before we commence with the sorting of our first-year students, we have the honor of welcoming a new transfer student who will be joining us in her third year. Please give a warm welcome to Jean Grey."
Jean took a deep breath and stepped forward, her heart pounding like a drum solo at a rock concert. She glanced at Harry, who shot her a quick smile and a thumbs-up. Feeling a bit more confident, she sat down on the stool. Professor McGonagall placed the Sorting Hat on Jean's head, and it immediately began its mysterious sorting process.
Inside her mind, Jean heard the hat's voice, which sounded like a wise old wizard who had seen it all. "Ah, a fascinating mind indeed. Not every day I come across someone with such a unique mix of magic and, what's this, mutant abilities? A connection to the Phoenix Force, too! I'll be honest, this is one of the more interesting sorting choices I've had to make in a while. But where to put you?"
Jean could feel the eyes of every student in the hall on her. She stole another glance at Harry, who was pretending to find the enchanted ceiling particularly interesting. Jean couldn't help but smirk.
"Hmm... tricky, very tricky," the hat continued, taking its sweet time to build the suspense. "You have the bravery and loyalty that would make you a fine Gryffindor. Yes, I think I know where you belong. Better be... GRYFFINDOR!"
The Gryffindor table erupted in cheers, the loudest of which came from Harry, Ron, and Hermione, who were all on their feet clapping and shouting Jean's name. Harry's grin was so wide it looked like his face might split in half. Jean hopped off the stool and made her way over to her new housemates, her face flushed with excitement.
As she sat down next to Harry, he gave her a grin that was both awkward and adorable. "Welcome to Gryffindor, Jean," he said, his eyes shining.
"Thanks, Harry," she replied, feeling a warm glow inside her chest. "I'm glad to be here."
Ron leaned over, still grinning. "You'll love it here, Jean. Gryffindor's the best house by far."
Hermione nodded enthusiastically. "We're going to have a fantastic year. It's great to have you with us, Jean."
Jean glanced around at her new housemates, feeling a sense of belonging wash over her. She caught Harry's eye again, and he quickly looked away, trying to act casual.
—
As the Great Hall hummed with a mix of excitement, nerves, and the occasional loud burp (thanks, Fred and George), Professor McGonagall stood up, signaling for silence. It was impressive how quickly the students quieted down—either because McGonagall commanded respect or because they didn't want to miss a second of what was about to happen. She strode toward the entrance hall doors with the determination of someone who knew how to keep a pack of magical teenagers in line.
With her usual stern but not unfriendly expression, McGonagall swung open the doors, revealing the first-year students. The sight of them was like watching penguins in oversized robes, waddling nervously into the room, eyes as wide as Luna Lovegood's when she spots a Nargle.
The first years shuffled to the front of the hall, their eyes darting around like they'd just walked into the set of a big-budget fantasy movie (which, honestly, wasn't far from the truth).
Waiting for them on a stool was the Sorting Hat, looking particularly like it had been through a few too many laundry cycles. As the last first-year took their place, the hat's brim creaked open. With a voice that sounded somewhere between an old grandfather and a radio host, it began its annual performance.
---
"Another year at Hogwarts School,
Where ancient magic sets the rule.
In the heart of these enchanted walls,
Adventure and danger call."**
"From four great houses, brave and true,
New challenges are coming for you.
Gryffindor's courage, bold and bright,
Hufflepuff's hard work, a steady light."
"Ravenclaw's smarts, sharp and clear,
Slytherin's ambition, knows no fear.
But there's more afoot than house pride,
Change is coming, time to decide."
"Mysterious powers on the rise,
New gifts that might surprise your eyes.
With these powers come trials intense,
Dark forces grow, thick and tense."
"A serpent's shadow, dark and cold,
Seeks to take a stranglehold.
Yet, not alone does darkness creep,
Others seek to sow and reap."
"Sinister forces, unseen, unknown,
A fight for power, seeds are sown.
Yet in these halls, hope shines bright,
A future forged, a beacon of light."
"So heed my words, young witches, wizards,
Stand together as kin and sisters.
For Hogwarts is more than stone and spell,
It's where all our hearts do dwell."
---
The hat finished with a flourish, and a heavy silence fell over the hall, which was a rarity among Hogwarts students. Usually, they were too busy plotting pranks or trying to sneak a peak at the desserts. But this time, even the ghosts seemed a bit rattled.
Professor McGonagall stepped forward again, her expression a shade more serious, like she was about to assign a mountain of homework. "When I call your name," she announced, her voice echoing through the hall, "you will come forward, put on the Sorting Hat, and be sorted into your houses."
As the sorting began, the hall filled with the usual mix of cheers, applause, and the occasional groan (probably from Slytherin, who really wanted that one kid with the "I'm clearly destined for greatness" look). The older students couldn't help but mull over the hat's words about "mysterious powers" and "sinister forces," which sounded like the plot of a new blockbuster movie or the start of a really intense school year.
But for now, there were more important things to focus on, like which house would get the most new members and who would be the first to make a beeline for the pumpkin pasties once the sorting was over.
—
As the Great Hall buzzed with the excitement of a new school year, the enchanted ceiling mirrored the clear night sky, dotted with stars like sprinkles on a cosmic donut. Students filled the long tables, chattering animatedly, their voices blending into a symphony of anticipation and the occasional clink of silverware. The last of the new students were sorted into their respective houses, and Professor McGonagall took her seat at the staff table, her face betraying the slightest hint of a smile—an expression about as rare as a chocolate frog that hadn't been eaten.
Finally, Dumbledore stood, his robes shimmering in the candlelight, signaling for silence with a twinkle in his eye that seemed to say, "I know a lot more than you think, but let's keep it fun, shall we?" The hall fell silent, all eyes on the headmaster, as if waiting for a wizardly version of a blockbuster movie trailer.
"Welcome back to another year at Hogwarts!" Dumbledore began, his voice as soothing as a well-tuned harp. "And a special welcome to our new students. I trust your time here will be both educational and enjoyable." His words carried a comforting assurance, like a grandfather promising stories by the fire—if that grandfather happened to be one of the most powerful wizards in the world.
The hall fell silent, every student eager to hear what the Headmaster had to say next.
"Before we begin our feast, I have a few start-of-term notices to share with you. First, I am delighted to introduce two new professors who will be joining our staff this year. Please welcome Professor Remus Lupin, who will be taking up the post of Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher."
Polite applause followed, though Harry couldn't help but notice the whispers among the students as they glanced at the tired-looking man next to Professor McGonagall. Lupin nodded appreciatively, but there was a weariness about him, like someone who's spent too much time with a Boggart.
"And, as many of you may have already heard," Dumbledore continued, his smile widening, "Rubeus Hagrid will be taking on the role of Care of Magical Creatures professor."
A loud cheer erupted from the Gryffindor table, and Hagrid blushed deeply, his massive frame shaking slightly with emotion as he waved a giant hand in thanks. Harry joined in the applause, feeling genuinely happy for Hagrid, even as he kept a mental note of Dumbledore's every word. Years of navigating the political minefield of the wizarding world had taught Harry to pay attention, especially when Dumbledore was speaking.
Then Dumbledore's expression grew more serious. He continued, "Now, I must address a matter of utmost importance. Some of you may have already heard rumors, and I wish to set the record straight. Recently, a prisoner escaped from Azkaban—a man named Peter Pettigrew."
A murmur of shock rippled through the hall. Students exchanged uneasy glances, some looking outright frightened, while others whispered questions to their neighbors. Harry watched Dumbledore closely, his expression carefully neutral. He still respected Dumbledore, sure, but he'd learned not to take everything the Headmaster said at face value.
"In response to this threat, the Ministry of Magic has deemed it necessary to station Dementors around the perimeter of the school grounds. These Dementors are here for our protection, to ensure that Peter Pettigrew is captured swiftly and returned to Azkaban."
The murmurs grew louder, and a few students visibly shuddered at the mention of Dementors. Harry couldn't blame them. He'd had a close encounter with a Dementor before, and it wasn't something he was eager to repeat. He glanced at Ron and Hermione, who looked equally uneasy.
"I must warn you all," Dumbledore continued, raising his voice slightly to regain their attention, "that Dementors are not to be trifled with. They are among the foulest creatures that walk this earth. They drain peace, hope, and happiness out of the air around them. Even Muggles feel their presence, though they cannot see them. You will be instructed on how to avoid them and what to do if you encounter one."
Dumbledore's eyes swept the hall, ensuring his message had sunk in. "It is important that you do not leave the school grounds without permission. The Dementors will not distinguish between one student and another. They will not listen to reason. I, therefore, urge each of you to take extreme caution."
The hall was silent now, the gravity of the situation settling over the students like a heavy cloak. Harry watched Dumbledore closely, noting the seriousness in his tone. He knew Dumbledore meant well, but he couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to the story than what they were being told.
"And lastly," Dumbledore added, his tone lightening slightly, "I would like to remind you of the wise words spoken by the Sorting Hat tonight. Unity among the houses is more crucial now than ever before. In times of trouble, we must remember that we are all part of the same magical community. The Hat has seen fit to remind us that our greatest strength lies in our ability to stand together, despite our differences."
He smiled gently at the students. "Now, let us begin our feast. Tuck in!"
With a wave of his hand, the tables filled with an array of delicious food, and the tense atmosphere began to dissipate as the students eagerly began to eat and talk once more. Harry watched Dumbledore return to his seat, exchanging a few quiet words with Professor McGonagall. He knew the year ahead would be filled with challenges and opportunities, but he was ready for whatever came his way—Dementors or not.
—-
The Great Hall buzzed with the kind of energy that only the first night back at Hogwarts could bring. Four long tables were piled high with enough food to feed an army—or in this case, several hundred hungry witches and wizards. Above them, the enchanted ceiling twinkled with stars, mimicking the clear night sky outside. Harry, Hermione, Ron, and Jean were seated at the Gryffindor table, laughing and chatting like they didn't have a care in the world.
Jean's eyes were as wide as saucers as she soaked in the magical atmosphere around her. "This place is amazing," she said, popping a pumpkin pasty into her mouth.
Hermione nodded in agreement, a warm smile lighting up her face. "There's really no place like Hogwarts."
Harry leaned in a bit closer to Jean, a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. "You mentioned that you love flying, right? Have you ever thought about trying out for the Quidditch team?"
Jean's face lit up like a Christmas tree. "Really? I'd love to! But...I've only just started flying again after awakening the Phoenix Force. I'm not sure if I'm any good at Quidditch."
Ron, who was midway through a mouthful of shepherd's pie, swallowed quickly and nodded enthusiastically. "Don't worry about it, Jean. You'll be great! We could always use more talent on the team."
Hermione chimed in with a reassuring smile, although there was a hint of something else in her eyes—a mix of support and maybe a little jealousy. "Harry's one of the best Seekers Hogwarts has ever seen. If he thinks you can do it, then you definitely can."
Harry grinned. "Besides, flying on a broomstick is a bit different from using your powers, but it's a lot of fun. We can practice together. Oh, and you can have my Nimbus 2000. I've got a Firebolt now, and the Nimbus is still a fantastic broom."
Jean's eyes widened, and her cheeks turned a light shade of pink. "Harry, are you sure? That's really generous."
Before Harry could respond, Oliver Wood, the Gryffindor Quidditch captain, who had been walking by, caught the last part of their conversation. He practically sprinted over to them, his face alight with excitement. "Did I hear right, Potter? You've got a Firebolt?"
Harry nodded, unable to hide his pride. "Yeah, Sirius gave it to me as an early birthday present."
Oliver's eyes sparkled with the kind of joy usually reserved for finding out you don't have homework over the weekend. "A Firebolt? That's the fastest broom in the world! With that, we're sure to win the Quidditch Cup this year!"
Harry couldn't help but laugh at Wood's enthusiasm. "I hope so. I can't wait to see what this broom can do on the pitch."
As Oliver clapped Harry on the back, his eyes gleaming with determination, Harry leaned in and lowered his voice. "I was thinking, Oliver, maybe we should recruit some substitute players this year. With all the crazy stuff that happens around here, having backups ready might be a good idea."
Oliver's expression turned thoughtful as he considered Harry's suggestion. "You know, that's not a bad idea, Harry. We've had more than our fair share of unexpected events at Hogwarts."
The rest of the team, who had been pretending not to listen, perked up at the mention of substitutes. Katie Bell, Alicia Spinnet, and Angelina Johnson exchanged excited glances. "Who do you have in mind, Harry?" Katie asked, unable to contain her curiosity.
Fred and George Weasley, the team's resident pranksters, leaned in with identical grins on their faces. "Yeah, Harry," Fred said, a twinkle in his eye. "Who's going to be our secret weapon this year?"
"And more importantly," George added, his tone conspiratorial, "how can we convince them to help us pull off the greatest prank Hogwarts has ever seen?"
Harry chuckled, shaking his head at the twins' antics. "Well, I was thinking about Jean, for starters. She's a natural flyer, and I think she'd make a great addition to the team."
Jean blushed, clearly pleased by the suggestion. "I'd love to try out," she said, her eyes shining with excitement.
The twins exchanged a quick, knowing look. "Welcome to the team, Jean," Fred said, grinning.
"And remember," George added with a wink, "if you ever want to join in on a little mischief, you know where to find us."
As the conversation continued, the Gryffindor Quidditch team was buzzing with anticipation for the new season. The prospect of adding new talent and pulling off epic pranks had everyone in high spirits. Even Hermione, who had been quietly watching from the sidelines, couldn't help but smile as she watched Harry and Jean talk. She might have felt a twinge of jealousy, but she also saw how happy they made each other. And in the end, that was what mattered most.
—
The next morning, the castle stirred to life with the sounds of excited students rushing through the corridors, eager to dive into the new term. Hermione had already disappeared, heading off to meet with Professors McGonagall and Dumbledore about her never-ending quest for knowledge (and likely to add more classes to her already jam-packed schedule). Meanwhile, Harry, Ron, and Jean were making their way from the Gryffindor Common Room to the Great Hall, the smell of breakfast urging them onward.
"So, what new classes are you taking this year?" Harry asked as they descended the staircase, his eyes sliding over to Ron.
Ron gave a half-hearted shrug, his bag slung lazily over his shoulder. "I went for Divination and Care of Magical Creatures. Seemed like they'd be fun and, you know, not too hard. I'm not exactly looking for extra homework."
Harry chuckled. "Divination, huh? Going to try and predict how often you'll oversleep this year?"
Ron grinned, "Exactly! If I can see it coming, maybe I'll be on time for once."
Jean, walking beside them, laughed and asked, "What about you, Harry?"
"Care of Magical Creatures sounds cool, and I signed up for Ancient Runes and Arithmancy too," Harry replied, trying to sound nonchalant. Truth be told, he was a little nervous about the workload. "What about you, Jean? Any classes that have caught your eye?"
Jean's smile was bright as she looked around at the bustling hallways. "I'm really excited about Potions and Transfiguration. I've always loved Chemistry and Physics, so I think those will be fun." She hesitated for a second before adding, "And Defense Against the Dark Arts, of course. Professor Lupin seems really cool."
Harry's heart did a little flip when Jean smiled at him, and he hoped his face didn't show it. "Yeah, Lupin's great. He's like the total opposite of Snape in Potions. And Transfiguration with McGonagall is always a good time. She's tough, but you learn a lot." He caught himself staring at Jean's red hair and quickly looked away, hoping Ron wouldn't notice.
Ron, however, was too busy rolling his eyes at the mention of Snape. "Snape's probably brewing up some new potion just to make our lives miserable. Maybe something that makes your cauldron explode if you're not paying attention."
Harry laughed, picturing the dungeon filled with clouds of smoke and students covered in various magical concoctions. "Sounds about right."
As they walked into the Great Hall, the trio found their usual spots at the Gryffindor table, surrounded by friends and familiar faces. The table was loaded with pancakes, sausages, eggs, and all sorts of pastries, and the three of them wasted no time in loading up their plates.
"So, Jean, think you'll try out for the Quidditch team?" Ron asked between bites of toast. He was trying to sound casual, but his eyes betrayed his genuine curiosity.
Jean shrugged, trying to keep her cool. "Maybe. I've been thinking about it. I love flying, but I'm not sure if I'd be any good at Quidditch."
Harry jumped in, eager to be encouraging. "You'd be great, Jean! You should definitely give it a shot. We can practice together."
"Yeah," Ron added, his mouth full of sausage. "And if it doesn't work out, you can always join me in Divination and help me come up with prophecies to confuse Trelawney."
Jean laughed, and Harry felt a warm, fuzzy feeling in his chest. He was glad she was fitting in so well, and he couldn't wait to spend more time with her—on the Quidditch pitch and off. As they chatted and joked, the morning sun streamed through the windows, promising another year of adventures at Hogwarts.
—
As Wood marched into the Great Hall, his mind was still racing with Quidditch thoughts. "Harry, got any ideas about substitute players?" Wood asked, clearly eager to dive into the Quidditch season.
Harry, who was casually strolling beside Jean (who seemed to be lingering just a tad too close), took a moment to consider. "Well, for starters, Ginny Weasley is a broomstick pro. She'd be a fantastic Chaser and could even double as a substitute Seeker if needed. We should definitely keep an eye on the first and second years during their flying lessons. There might be some hidden gems."
He then added, "Jean's pretty athletic, too. She's got a background in football from back in America. I'll have to teach her the ropes of Quidditch, but I bet she'll pick it up quickly."
Jean, trying to mask her blush with a sheepish laugh, piped up, "I hope I don't end up making a fool of myself. And just so you know, it's soccer, not football. I'm not sure how well my soccer skills will translate to broomstick flying."
Katie Bell's eyes sparkled with interest. "Soccer? That's actually great. The agility and footwork could be a big advantage."
Alicia Spinnet nodded in agreement. "Definitely. It's like turning your soccer skills into aerial maneuvers. Flying is just soccer with a view."
Angelina Johnson grinned. "And don't sweat it if you're nervous. We've all been there. Besides, we should definitely scout some younger students. It's never too early to start grooming future stars."
Fred and George Weasley, ever the pranksters and guardians of their friends in their own special way, couldn't resist getting in on the action. "If we spot any younger troublemakers with potential," Fred said with a wicked grin, "we'll make sure they're not just good at Quidditch but also at dodging our pranks."
George added with a mischievous chuckle, "And we'll make sure they've got a few lessons in the fine art of mayhem."
Wood looked thoughtful, then broke into a smile. "Alright, we'll keep our eyes peeled. If you can get Jean up to speed, we might have ourselves a new secret weapon."
Harry glanced over at Jean, who was doing her best to hide her nervous excitement. "I'll do my best. Jean's got loads of potential."
Jean looked up, catching Harry's gaze for a fleeting, electrifying moment before quickly looking away, her cheeks flushed. "Thanks, Harry. I'm really excited—soccer jokes and all."
As the group made their way to the Great Hall, the buzz about the upcoming Quidditch season was palpable. For Harry and Jean, though, the excitement was tinged with the awkward, thrilling uncertainty of their budding feelings for each other, both too shy to do anything about it.
—
The Gryffindor table was buzzing like a beehive, with the morning chatter filling the Great Hall. Ron, true to form, was working his way through scrambled eggs like they were his last meal. With half his breakfast smeared on his face, he mumbled, "So, what happened at the meeting?" Toast crumbs flew like confetti from his mouth.
Hermione, fresh from an early morning meeting and still looking like she'd been running on caffeine and determination, took a seat with a sigh. "Ron, could you please try not to talk with your mouth full?" She poured herself a glass of pumpkin juice, casting a glance of amused exasperation at her best friend.
Despite the mild rebuke, Hermione's mood was upbeat. "Anyway, the meeting was really productive. I've decided to take on all the optional subjects this year."
Harry's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "All of them? Hermione, that's a serious commitment. Which ones?"
Hermione started ticking them off on her fingers like she was listing off her favorite spells. "Ancient Runes, Arithmancy, Muggle Studies, and even Divination."
Ron nearly choked on his eggs. "You're taking Divination? You've always said it's a load of rubbish!"
Hermione shrugged with an air of determination. "It might be, but I want to be thorough. Who knows, maybe there's something to it."
Jean, who had been quietly listening, gave Hermione an encouraging smile. "That's impressive, Hermione. Sounds like you'll be juggling quite a few classes."
Hermione nodded, eyes bright with enthusiasm. "Yes, but I'm ready for the challenge. I want to be prepared for whatever comes our way."
Harry, always curious, asked, "So, why Muggle Studies? You already know a lot about Muggles. Isn't that kind of redundant?"
Hermione took a thoughtful sip of her pumpkin juice. "True, I do know quite a bit, but I want to understand it from a wizarding perspective. There are aspects of Muggle society and technology that I haven't explored fully."
Ron, intrigued and clearly amused, chimed in with a grin. "Does this mean you're finally going to explain how those 'lectric things work?"
Hermione chuckled softly, shaking her head at Ron's mangled pronunciation. "Yes, Ron, I suppose I could. Understanding Muggle technology like 'lectricity' might come in handy."
Harry joined in, a teasing glint in his eye. "It's 'electricity,' Ron."
Ron shrugged, unfazed. "Yeah, whatever it's called. Just make it simple for us, Hermione."
Hermione rolled her eyes but smiled. "Of course, Ron. I'll do my best."
Just then, Harry's gaze fell on a small hourglass-shaped pendant around Hermione's neck. Using his psionic senses, he detected a faint magical aura. He decided to send a quick telepathic message to Jean.
Jean, noticing Harry's focus, leaned in and whispered, "Harry's wondering about the pendant. Is there something we should know?"
Hermione, caught off guard, touched the pendant and said quietly, "It's a Time-Turner. Professor McGonagall lent it to me to manage my schedule."
Jean's eyes widened. "A Time-Turner? That's incredible! But isn't it risky to mess with time?"
Hermione nodded seriously. "It can be dangerous, which is why it's closely regulated. I have to follow strict rules to avoid creating paradoxes."
Harry, ever the investigator, added telepathically, Hermione, just be careful with the Time-Turner. We don't need any time-travel disasters.
Hermione gave a slight nod, appreciative of Harry's concern. "I will, Harry. I promise."
Harry, clearly intrigued, asked, "Can I take a look at the Time-Turner later? I'm really interested in how it works."
Hermione hesitated, weighing her response. "I'm not sure, Harry. Professor McGonagall entrusted it to me, so I need to be careful with it. I'll think about it."
Harry nodded, understanding. "Sure, Hermione. Just let me know if you change your mind."
Jean, with a supportive smile, added, "I'm sure Hermione will let you see it when the time is right."
Hermione smiled gratefully at Jean, torn between her responsibility and her friends' curiosity. As the conversation continued, the Time-Turner became a symbol of both fascination and caution, a reminder of the delicate balance between knowledge and responsibility at Hogwarts.
—
As the final crumbs of breakfast were brushed away, the Great Hall erupted into its usual morning chaos. Students hustled about, grabbing their bags and chattering excitedly about their day. Professor McGonagall, looking every bit the no-nonsense teacher she was, marched down the aisles with a stack of timetables. Her eyes scanned the crowd with a sharpness that suggested she could spot mischief from a mile away.
"Here you go," she said, handing Hermione a hefty bundle of timetables. Hermione took them with a grateful nod and began distributing them like a particularly efficient post office.
Harry glanced over his timetable with a grin. "Ancient Runes first up. Looks like our brains are going to be put to good use right away."
Jean's eyes lit up with enthusiasm. "I've been so excited for that class. Can't wait to dive into the ancient scripts."
Hermione nodded, her own excitement barely contained. "Me too. There's so much history packed into those runes. It's like unearthing hidden secrets."
Ron, meanwhile, gave his timetable a look of deep suspicion. "Divination first thing in the morning," he grumbled, his expression somewhere between resigned and exasperated. "I still can't believe I signed up for this. What was I thinking?"
Harry chuckled, nudging Ron with an elbow. "Cheer up, Ron. Maybe you'll finally get some clarity on why you're always late for breakfast."
Ron rolled his eyes but couldn't help a small, appreciative smirk. "Yeah, right. Like tea leaves are going to solve the mystery of why I never seem to have matching socks."
Jean, who had been listening to the exchange, shot Harry a quick, shy smile. She was still buzzing from their earlier conversation about Quidditch, but there was something else—a flicker of something she was still trying to understand. She glanced at Harry, whose own cheeks were slightly flushed as he met her gaze. Their awkwardness was palpable, like they were both dancing around something they both knew but were too shy to acknowledge.
Hermione, meanwhile, was stealing glances at Harry, trying to ignore the fluttering in her chest whenever he smiled or laughed. She couldn't quite figure out what it was—maybe it was the way he had grown over the summer, or maybe it was something more. Either way, she was trying hard to keep her feelings under wraps while also navigating the obvious chemistry between Harry and Jean.
As they all finished up, Hermione took a deep breath, mentally preparing herself for the day ahead. "Alright, let's head to Ancient Runes. I'm sure it's going to be an enlightening start to the day."
Ron, grumbling under his breath but clearly gearing up to support his friends, nodded. "Yeah, yeah. Ancient Runes, here we come. Let's hope it's not as boring as it sounds."
As the four friends made their way out of the Great Hall, the buzz of excitement and the lingering tension between Harry and Jean mixed with the usual morning routine. Hermione's unspoken feelings and Harry's shy glances were like a secret subplot in their day, adding a layer of complexity to their otherwise straightforward school life.
The day was off to a start, filled with potential and uncertainty, as each student headed toward their first class of the year.
—
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