Disclaimer: I do not own both of the series.

Hermione's mind went blank. She turned around in her rigid position. Harry and Ron, fortunate enough to not catch Edmund's last few words (they heard him say something but couldn't tell what exactly he said), puzzledly glanced at Hermione. Harry, again, patted her, this time, on the shoulder, but she could not feel, hear, or think properly for the moment. What to do? What now? These were the only thoughts that panically floated around.

Finally, her mind made, Hermione gripped on Harry and Ron's robes. Then, with the mightiest force she has ever used, she ran. Harry and Ron, surprised, trailed behind (more like dragged along).

Edmund, still with that gentle smile, watched the girl's reaction. He wanted to laugh out loud because he was so satisfied, but he held himself. He laid back down on the bench and returned to flickering through the documents. Trumpkin just shook his head.

"I don't know what that was about, but I see that you haven't been able to fix your habit of wicked teasing, Your Majesty."

"Oh, shut up." Edmund lightly snorted.

By this time, Trumpkin and Edmund were more than a mere servant and a king. They were friends. As Trumpkin accompanied Edmund around the places back in Narnia, he noticed that Edmund could be a little imp as well as a dignified king. He saw more than plenty of times how Edmund's lips twisted up a little into a mischievous curve. A moment ago was such an occasion. The "wicked smile" Hermione witnessed, that is.

"Don't be too vicious this time." Trumpkin carelessly warned. He always said this sort of thing, but of course, Edmund always did what he did.

"Don't worry, that was just a bit spontaneous. I was bored, and they looked happy." Edmund monotonously answered.

Trumpkin snorted. "And that's a perfectly fine reason to start a fight?"

"I wasn't starting anything. She actually owes me that moment." Edmund protested. Only when he was playfully arguing with Trumpkin did he show his childish side of personality.

"Oh, and how is that so?" Trumpkin asked with a raised brow.

"She once spoke very rudely to me, a royalty then and now. She actually tried to shoo me out of my carriage." His eyes still on the parchment, Edmund explained. "She should be thankful that I only ended it there." He huffed a bit.

"And that poor girl won't be able to pass this way from now on." Trumpkin dramatically remarked.

Edmund grunted at his words. "Oh, just stop. I wouldn't like to talk to her again anyway."

Trumpkin rather softly responded. "You don't know that for sure."

Ron watched as Hermione's face turned redder and redder. Her breaths were short due to the abrupt running, and the always-neatly-worn robe was now wrinkled and ruined by the wind. Harry was gasping for breath as well.

"Why were we running?" Ron questioned. "What did he say?"

Harry looked at Hermione, demanding the same answer.

"Bloody, bloody hell! He knows me!" Hermione shouted.

"What?" Harry and Ron both exclaimed at the same time.

"He, he said, it was disappointing to hear it from the brightest witch of the age!" Hermione finally buried her face into her hands. If not, she felt as if her face would blow up and burst.

"What does that have to do with anything? Every body calls you that." Harry tilted his head in confusion.

"He doesn't know that! and I told you before! I told him that I was going to be the brightest witch of the age back then when I tried to get him out of the carriage!" Hermione paced to here and there as she spoke.

As her words were rapidly flown out from her mouth, Ron and Harry passed a look of realization and could not stop their mouths from enlarging.

"He's not going to kill you, is he?" Ron carefully inquired.

"Of course not, you bloke!" Hermione spat angrily. Then she turned around, shaking her head violently. "I'm sorry. I hope he won't. I guess a just king wouldn't kill a person for their past mistake?"

Harry, all the while, watching the ruckus happening before him, finally spoke. "Calm down you too. I don't think he was too serious of it all." At his words, both Ron and Hermione looked up and stared at him. Harry carried on with his thoughts. "Maybe he heard that there was a girl who was called the brightest witch of the age before from somebody. If not, he must have been teasing. Or else, he would have accused you right then and there."

Hermione nodded a little. Though it was very unlikely that the former guess could be true, she wanted to believe that it wasn't that the king remembered her past breach of manner. Even if it wasn't the case, Hermione was determined to think positively.

"Alright. Whatever. What happened is what happened. I'm going to pretend that he heard my title from somewhere as." She concluded.

"Good thought." Ron encouraged. He really did not like to have another meeting with the king. He felt too inferior when his majesty was present. Harry nodded as well by his side.

Hermione, pacing once again, asked. "But what if he would like to talk about it? Should I keep acting like I've never done such act? What if he tells Professor Dumbledore?"

It was obvious that her mind was still clouded with worries. Ron's own was darken by resentment. He could not tell what was coming over him, but something kept nudging him into thoughts of rage and hatred. He feared himself with such emotions, but he kept it to himself. He did not want to be cared by Hermione (or Harry, in fact) as a helpless friend.

What Ron, Hermione, Harry, and even Edmund did not know was that the Green Mist was already in Hogwarts. It occupied deeply in corners and cracks of the castle, yet no one, not even Dumbledore, was able to detect that something serious was brewing within. In every chance it got, the Mist clouded the hearts of the students (very often, those of Slytherin) and planted the seed of all kinds of hateful emotions. One drop of water, a catalyst, and those seeds would bloom into dreary consequences.

Author's note: This chapter is a bit short, sorry. But I really didn't have the time... T_T