Rai_jin
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#60 WSWW
🕑 Added 2025-03-28 16:00:22 +0000 UTCAfter the opening feast, the Gryffindor crew made their way to their usual secret hideout—an abandoned classroom tucked away in the castle’s depths.
Those who had gone home for the holidays eagerly shared their experiences, swapping stories of family traditions, misadventures, and the occasional magical mishap.
Harley turned to Hermione with a grateful smile.
"Thanks for the Christmas gift, Hermione—Muggle contact lenses. These things are brilliant!"
Ron, Neville, and Jerry blinked in confusion, suddenly realizing something was off.
"Wait... Harley, where are your glasses?" Ron asked, narrowing his eyes.
With a smug grin, Harley held up a small red case.
"Right here! Hermione got me these contact lenses. No more glasses—just magic in my eyes!" She wiggled her fingers for dramatic effect.
The conversation soon shifted, with Ron and Jerry launching into complaints about their holiday experiences.
Ron groaned dramatically.
"Next time Ted stays at school, I’m leaving no matter what. Even if I have to wander the streets, I am NOT staying here. It felt less like a vacation and more like I was sentenced to Azkaban!"
Jerry nodded in solidarity. "Snape and Professor McGonagall combined aren’t as brutal as Ted."
Ted smirked. "Well, at least now you know how to add, subtract, multiply, and divide. That’s my tutoring paying off!"
"Oh, absolutely," Ron deadpanned.
"And I was so exhausted, I fell asleep the second my head hit the pillow."
Jerry stretched his arms. "I almost collapsed in the corridors on the way back to the common room. Skating is amazing, but Merlin’s beard, it’s tiring!"
"Skating? You learned to skate?" Hermione asked, intrigued.
"Wait—what’s skating?" Harley asked, completely lost.
A moment of silence fell over the group as they stared at each other.
"So let me get this straight," Neville finally said,
"she doesn’t know what contact lenses are, and you don’t know what skating is. We’ve been apart for a few weeks, and there’s already a huge gap between us."
The moment Harley understood what ice skating was, her face lit up with excitement.
She practically bounced on her seat. "That sounds amazing! I bet I’ll be a natural! I can already feel myself gliding across the ice!"
Hermione, ever the voice of reason, put a hand on her shoulder. "Not tonight, it’s getting late. Let's try tomorrow."
Harley pouted but relented.
"Fine, tomorrow then. But no backing out! Ted always says, ‘Tomorrow and tomorrow…’ How many tomorrows do we have left?!"
Ted shot her a dry look. "Don’t misquote me when you refuse to study."
Suddenly, Ron clapped his hands together, eyes twinkling mischievously. "Oh! Speaking of amazing things, Jerry, Ted—shall we?"
Jerry and Ted exchanged knowing grins before nodding.
That night, under the cover of darkness, the group snuck out past curfew, making their way to a secluded room that housed the Mirror of Erised.
Ted had been wary of bringing them here.
The mirror had an eerie pull—one that could trap a person in endless longing.
It was why he had preoccupied them with schoolwork over the break.
But now? Now they were all in this together.
And as expected, the mirror’s magic captivated them.
The Weasley twins visited on occasion, but they had dreams they believed could still come true.
They weren’t as entranced as the others.
But Ron, Jerry, Harley, and Neville?
They were spellbound.
Sitting in a row, they gazed at their deepest desires reflected back at them.
Hermione was a little better—she saw herself excelling in every subject, leading the student council, and standing beside Ted as a recognized heroine.
Ted didn’t bother looking.
He knew better.
Harley and Neville, however, were different.
The moment they saw their parents—smiling, alive, reaching out for them—nothing else existed.
Ted knew there was nothing he could say to pull them away.
But someone else would.
He had sensed the subtle magic enveloping the room—a presence lingering, watching, waiting.
And sure enough, on the third night, as they once again sat mesmerized by the mirror, Dumbledore himself appeared.
The group froze.
But Dumbledore didn’t reprimand them.
He didn’t take points, nor did he scold.
Instead, he spoke with the wisdom of an elder who had seen too much, who understood the dangers of chasing illusions.
"This mirror," he said softly, "has ensnared many before you. Some have wasted away before it, unable to pull themselves back into reality.
It does not show knowledge, nor truth—only the deepest desires of your heart. And yet, happiness does not lie in dreams alone, but in making them a reality."
He let the words settle before giving them a kind smile.
"Now, off to bed. The mirror will be moved somewhere safer."
At breakfast the next morning, Harley relayed the encounter to Ted and Hermione, who hadn’t been caught.
"I asked Dumbledore what he saw in the mirror," Harley said, poking at her eggs.
"And you know what he said? He sees himself holding a pair of warm woolen socks. Said people always gift him books, but what he really wants is socks."
Ted leaned back, smirking. "Socks, huh? Next Christmas, I’m sending him a pair of black stockings. From Snape."
The winter break faded into memory, and soon enough, classes were in full swing.
The Gryffindors took some time to shake off their holiday sluggishness.
As for Hermione.
She had spent the break studying—limited only by the fact that she couldn’t use magic.
She had essentially been in school the entire time.
So, when the professors assigned five inches of parchment for homework, Hermione, as always, submitted eight.
For all her dedication to studying, Hermione hardly needed any more encouragement from her friends.
In fact, when it came to copying homework, her diligence was so well-known that the others made sure to at least change a few words to avoid any suspiciously identical answers.
But Ted had to step in. "Hermione, you need to relax a little. You always push yourself so hard. If you keep this up, you're going to burn out."
Hermione barely looked up from her book. "I’m fine, Ted. Really."
Ted sighed.
She was in one of those moods again—where she locked herself into an academic frenzy, flipping through pages at lightning speed, eyes gleaming with arcane wisdom.
Frankly, it was a little scary.
"At this rate," Ted muttered, "I’m going to develop study fatigue just from watching you."
He reached into his bag and pulled out a colorful magazine, sliding it across the table.
"Here, read this. It’s nonsense, but hilarious nonsense. You could use a break."
Hermione glanced at it warily. "The Quibbler?"
The moment her eyes landed on the page, her expression shifted from curiosity to absolute bewilderment.
"What in Merlin’s name is this?!"
She flipped through the pages, her eyes darting over bizarre headlines.
The further she read, the more her forehead creased.
"This is—this is absurd! The logic is nonexistent! The sources? Completely fabricated! Who writes this stuff?"
Ted leaned back with a grin, watching her unravel. "See? It’s entertaining, isn’t it?"
Hermione pointed furiously at a passage.
"Listen to this: ‘If you mix purified moonlight water with powdered fairy wings and drink it under a full moon, you’ll gain the ability to see the next lunar cycle in advance!’
That’s ridiculous! It doesn’t even make sense! How do you purify moonlight water? What does that even mean?!"
Ted chuckled. "That’s what makes it fun."
Hermione groaned, rubbing her temples. "I can’t prove it’s fake, but I know it is, and that’s driving me crazy!"
"That’s the spirit," Ted teased. "Embrace the chaos."
She shot him a glare but said nothing, still too flustered by the sheer nonsense she had just read.
Ron, who had been listening in, piped up. "You think that’s bad? Muggles have even weirder theories. Like this one:
What if there’s a slow-acting poisonous gas in the air that kills everyone over a hundred years old? No one notices because hardly anyone lives that long!"
Hermione looked horrified. "What?! That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever—"
Before she could finish, Neville and Harley sat there contemplating it, while Ron and Jerry were holding their breath as if suddenly afraid of inhaling the nonexistent poison.
The topic spiraled into madness from there.
The new semester arrived in a flurry of snow, blanketing the castle and surrounding grounds in a pristine white layer.
Hogwarts, perched on its cliff, looked more ancient than ever, standing solemnly against the wintry backdrop.
If not for the energetic students filling its halls, the school might have felt lonely.
And energetic they were.
The snowfall sent them into a frenzy.
Snowmen appeared all over the courtyards, and spontaneous snowball fights broke out.
But of course, being at Hogwarts, regular snowball fights simply wouldn’t do.
With half a year of magical education under their belts, many first-years had already mastered a spell or two beyond their coursework.
And what good were spells if not used for mischief?
Snowballs weren’t just thrown—they were enchanted to chase their targets.
Entire snow armies rose up, engaging in full-fledged battles. It was chaos.
Ted, however, opted out of the madness, leaning against the railing of the covered bridge, watching the others with mild amusement.
"Ah, youth," he mused, shaking his head like an old man despite being the same age as them.
His amusement faded when his eyes landed on Professor Quirrell, bundled up in his thick purple turban, shivering as he cautiously made his way across the courtyard.
He looked even more skittish than usual, flinching at every stray snowball.
Then something strange happened.
A familiar chime echoed in Ted’s mind.
____________________
Ding! New Quest Triggered!
[It’s Just Voldemort, So What If I Hit Him With a Snowball? (Green)]
Objective: Hit Voldemort in the face with a snowball in public.
Reward: 300 experience points, [Fire Dragon Fireworks (Green)] card.
____________________
Ted blinked. He reread the notification.
Then he reread it again.
He looked at Quirrell. Then back at the notification.
