The Golden Trio—Hermione Granger, Harry Potter, and Ron Weasley—had returned to Hogwarts for their seventh and final year, determined to complete their education after the harrowing events of the previous year. The castle, which had once been a war zone, now stood as a beacon of hope and renewal. Much of that renewed spirit came under the unexpected leadership of Professor Severus Snape, who had miraculously survived Nagini's attack during the Battle of Hogwarts. After his recovery, he accepted his role as Headmaster, a position once thrust upon him by dark forces but now taken up by choice, determined to restore the school's integrity.
Though Snape still maintained his firm, abrasive, and stern demeanor, a noticeable change had come over him. The mask of the hated Death Eater he wore for so long had finally fallen away. Students who had once feared and despised him now saw him in a new light—still intimidating, but undeniably competent and fair. His sharp wit and acerbic tongue remained, but there was a certain calmness and authority that replaced his previous hostility. He ruled the school with a steady hand and a sharp eye, and his mere presence in the corridors was enough to maintain order. All it took was a single arched eyebrow, and even the most unruly students fell into line, knowing that Headmaster Snape's displeasure was something to be avoided.
Under his leadership, Hogwarts ran like a well-oiled machine. The tension and fear that had gripped the school for years were slowly dissipating. Snape's expectations were high, but his punishments were just and fair. He implemented new policies that prioritized both academic excellence and mental well-being, ensuring a balanced environment for students to learn and grow. His approach to discipline was uncompromising but not without reason, and those who saw beyond his stern exterior recognized a man committed to the safety and education of every student.
While Snape was still not one for overt displays of kindness, his dedication to the school was undeniable. He had taken on the monumental task of rebuilding Hogwarts, not just structurally, but also restoring its heart and soul. Even the staff noticed the shift; McGonagall, who initially had doubts about his appointment, had grown to respect his methods and leadership style. The students, too, were learning that there was more to their Headmaster than the ruthless Potions Master they had once known.
However, despite the positive changes, some remnants of Snape's former self remained. He could still deliver a scathing remark with surgical precision, his black eyes still seemed to pierce into one's very soul, and his presence could still command silence in the Great Hall. But for the first time, it seemed that his intimidating facade was in service of something greater than his own survival—it was in service of a school he had fought for in his own way, a place he now sought to protect and nurture in his unique style.
"Leave me alone, Ron," Hermione snapped irritably over breakfast, her voice low but edged with annoyance. She had positioned herself at the far end of the Gryffindor table, clearly hoping for some peace before the day began, but Ron was oblivious to her mood. As he attempted to wrap his arm around her shoulders, she shrunk away from him, gripping the edge of the bench and trying to put more distance between them. Her eyes darted around the Great Hall, aware of the curious looks from the other students, and her cheeks flushed in a mix of frustration and embarrassment.
"But 'Mione, you know we are meant to be together. We're soulmates," Ron persisted, his voice whiny and insistent, as if he were trying to convince himself as much as her. He leaned closer, his arm still hovering awkwardly in the air, and Hermione could feel his breath on her ear, sending an uncomfortable shiver down her spine. "That kiss in the Chamber of Secrets proved it," he continued, his tone growing more pleading.
Hermione's patience was wearing thin. "Ron, we've talked about this," she said through gritted teeth, trying to keep her voice steady. She cast a sideways glance at Harry, who was sitting across from them with a half-eaten piece of toast in his hand, looking torn between intervening and staying out of it. "That kiss was in the heat of the moment, and it doesn't mean what you think it does."
But Ron wasn't listening. His face flushed with stubborn determination, his blue eyes wide and earnest. "You're just scared to admit it," he pressed on, ignoring Hermione's attempts to move away from him. "I mean, we've been through everything together! It's only natural that we'd end up together, right?" His voice took on a wheedling tone that made Hermione want to scream. "I know you think about it too. It's us, Hermione. It's always been us."
Hermione felt a surge of anger rise in her chest, her hands clenching into fists on her lap. "No, Ron, it hasn't 'always been us,'" she snapped, sharper now, her brown eyes blazing with frustration. "You can't just decide that we're soulmates because of one moment! You can't ignore what I want!" She pulled herself away from him, her chair scraping loudly against the stone floor as she stood up, drawing even more eyes in their direction.
Ron's face fell, his expression shifting from determination to confusion, then to hurt. "But, 'Mione…" he began, his voice trailing off as if he couldn't comprehend why she was rejecting him.
Hermione took a deep breath, trying to steady herself. She didn't want to cause a scene, but she was fed up with his relentless pushing since the war ended. "Look, if you don't believe me, I will prove to you that I am not your soulmate now bugger off."
Harry, sensing the tension escalating, finally spoke up. "Mate, just… back off for now, okay?" he said quietly, trying to defuse the situation. "Give her some space."
Ron's jaw clenched, and he looked like he wanted to argue, but something in Harry's tone made him stop. His shoulders slumped in defeat, and he pulled his arm back to his side, muttering under his breath. Hermione gave Harry a grateful nod, her expression softening slightly. She turned on her heel and walked out of the Great Hall, her footsteps quick and purposeful, eager to escape the awkward atmosphere that hung over their corner of the table.
Ron watched her go, his expression a mixture of confusion and frustration. "I just don't get it," he mumbled to himself, staring at his untouched breakfast. "I thought she'd come around by now."
Harry sighed, shaking his head slightly. "Maybe it's time to start listening to what she actually wants, mate," he said gently, hoping his friend would finally understand.
"Women are barking," Ron complained with a frown, his voice muffled as he shoveled a forkful of eggs into his mouth. Bits of yolk dribbled down his chin, and he wiped it away with the back of his hand, clearly still brooding over Hermione's rejection. His brow was furrowed, and his lips pressed into a sulky pout as if he couldn't fathom why she hadn't responded the way he expected. "I mean, what did I even do wrong?" he muttered, more to himself than to anyone else, his voice a mix of bewilderment and frustration.
Harry glanced up from his plate, raising an eyebrow. "You tried to corner her into a relationship she doesn't want, that's what," he said pointedly, though his tone was tempered with a hint of sympathy. He knew Ron was struggling to make sense of his feelings, but this wasn't the first time they'd had this conversation. "Maybe you should, I dunno, respect her decision?"
Ron's frown deepened, and he shook his head stubbornly. "I just don't get it," he grumbled, stabbing at his eggs with his fork, his motions rough and jerky. "One minute, they're all over you, and the next, they're pushing you away like you've got dragon pox or something. She's giving me all these mixed signals—always has."
Neville, who was sitting nearby and couldn't help overhearing, chimed in cautiously. "I think it's less about mixed signals and more about you not really listening to what she's saying, Ron," he offered, his tone diplomatic. "Hermione's been pretty clear about wanting to just be friends."
Ron shot him a disgruntled look. "Yeah, well, what do you know about women, Neville?" he retorted, his frustration bleeding into annoyance. "You barely talk to Luna, and she's weird enough as it is."
Neville's face turned red, but he didn't rise to the bait, instead choosing to focus on his porridge. Harry sighed and gave Ron a nudge. "Come on, mate, no need to take it out on Neville," he said. "Look, it's not about what any of us think. It's about what Hermione thinks. And if she says she just wants to be friends, then maybe you should give her some space and respect that."
Ron huffed, his cheeks puffing out in frustration. "Easy for you to say, Mr. Chosen One," he muttered bitterly. "You don't have to worry about this kind of stuff. Everything just falls into place for you, doesn't it?"
Harry felt a flicker of irritation but pushed it down, trying to remain patient. "Ron, it's not about things falling into place. It's about understanding people's boundaries and feelings. You can't just expect things to happen because you want them to."
Ron scoffed and shoveled another mouthful of eggs into his mouth, chewing noisily as if to drown out Harry's words. "Whatever," he mumbled between bites, his face still set in a stubborn scowl. "I'm just saying, women are impossible. You try to do something nice, and they act like you've set fire to their favorite book."
Seamus, who was sitting across from them and had been listening in with a bemused expression, chuckled. "Sounds like you've got a lot to learn about women, mate," he said with a grin, earning a few snickers from the surrounding students.
Ron's frown only deepened as he shot Seamus a glare. "I know enough," he grumbled, his pride clearly wounded. "I'm just saying, maybe Hermione's being too harsh. I mean, she used to like me, right?"
Harry exchanged a look with Neville, both of them sighing inwardly. It was clear Ron wasn't going to let this go anytime soon, but Harry knew better than to push him too hard. "Just… give it time, Ron," he said finally, trying to offer some advice. "Maybe try talking to her without, you know, pushing her. See where that gets you."
Ron muttered something unintelligible under his breath but didn't argue further. He continued to eat his eggs, sulking and chewing with more vigor than necessary, as if trying to chew through his frustration.
Later, after classes were finished for the day, Hermione made her way to the Hogwarts library, her mind set on proving to Ron once and for all that they weren't soulmates. She was tired of his constant attempts to push them together and his refusal to listen to her feelings. Determined to find something that would help him understand, she decided that a more magical, undeniable argument might do the trick. If she could present him with some evidence beyond mere words, perhaps he would finally accept it.
Now that she was eighteen and of age, Hermione had the privilege of exploring the Restricted Section more freely. She had been waiting for this moment for years, knowing that there was a wealth of knowledge hidden away behind those gates—knowledge that was not always available to younger students. With a determined set to her jaw, she slipped through the rows of towering shelves filled with ordinary books, making her way to the back of the library where the Restricted Section loomed, shrouded in shadows and an air of mystery.
The iron gate that separated the Restricted Section from the rest of the library creaked slightly as Hermione carefully opened it, its hinges groaning like an ancient, slumbering beast. She stepped through with a sense of purpose, glancing around to ensure that no one was watching too closely. She knew the rules well: she could only enter with a clear and justifiable purpose, and she needed to respect the ancient tomes and follow Madam Pince's strict regulations. The last thing she wanted was to face the wrath of the notoriously fierce librarian. Madam Pince had eyes like a hawk and an uncanny ability to appear when even the slightest infraction occurred, and Hermione had no desire to cross her.
Hermione's heart beat a little faster as she walked deeper into the Restricted Section, her shoes padding softly on the stone floor. She loved the smell here—dust and parchment mingling with a hint of something old and almost forgotten. She ran her fingers along the spines of the books, some of which were bound in cracked leather and others in strange, worn materials she couldn't quite identify. There were volumes on forbidden spells, ancient rituals, and mysterious potions that were too dangerous for the average student to dabble in. But Hermione wasn't looking for those today; she had a very specific topic in mind: soul magic.
After searching the shelves for a few minutes, she found a promising title: Soulmates and Magical Bonds: Truths and Myths. The book was thick, with a dark cover that seemed to ripple like liquid as she touched it. She pulled it down carefully, cradling it in her arms as she moved to one of the small, dimly lit reading tables in the corner of the section. She cast a quick Muffliato charm around herself to ensure her privacy and sat down, flipping through the yellowed pages with a growing sense of anticipation.
The text was dense and filled with ancient runes and footnotes in various languages—Latin, Greek, Old Norse, and even some dialects of Ancient Celtic—but Hermione was well-prepared for this challenge. She had always been a diligent student, her thirst for knowledge driving her to learn and understand as much as possible. But now, it wasn't just academic curiosity pushing her forward; it was the need to put an end to Ron's misguided delusions once and for all.
Her eyes scanned the faded ink on the pages, her brain swiftly processing the complex theories on magical bonds and mystical connections. She paused occasionally to cross-reference some of the runes and symbols with a small, well-worn translation guide she kept tucked in her bag. There was a thrill in deciphering these ancient texts, a sense of unlocking secrets that had been buried for centuries. And buried among those secrets was something that made Hermione's heart skip a beat: a spell designed to reveal one's true soulmate, known as Verus Anima Revelio.
The spell was created centuries ago by a wizard-scholar named Ælfric the Enamored, who had sought to end his own turmoil over a love triangle by determining the true, fated bonds between him and his two suitors. The incantation was specifically crafted to be cast within close proximity to the potential soulmates. If the true soulmate of the caster was nearby—within roughly a hundred-meter radius—their name would appear in a shimmering golden script before the caster's eyes, glowing like a beacon of truth. If no soulmate existed in that vicinity, the air would remain silent and untouched, a clear, undeniable message.
Hermione's heart quickened as she read more about the spell. It required not only a precise incantation but also a concentrated focus of intent. The caster had to truly desire to know the answer—no half-hearted casting would yield a result. The spell, however, came with its own warnings and risks. It could only be cast once every lunar cycle, for the magic it required was immense and needed time to replenish. Moreover, it demanded a high level of emotional honesty from the caster; any doubt or reluctance in wanting to know the truth could cause the spell to misfire, potentially leading to an incorrect or incomplete revelation.
Hermione's mind raced with possibilities. She could already picture the scene—Ron standing nearby, his face set in that familiar stubborn determination. She would speak the words with confidence and focus, and when nothing happened—when the air remained empty, free of golden script—he would have no choice but to accept reality. She could practically feel the weight lifting from her shoulders at the thought of it.
Her fingers traced the words on the page, committing them to memory, her mind already calculating the steps she would need to take to perform the spell. There was a section at the bottom of the page, a warning in bold, underlined text:
"The spell is irreversible once cast. The revealed truth is immutable, and any attempts to change or question it will result in magical backlash."
She took a deep breath, the gravity of the spell settling over her. If she went through with this, there would be no turning back. Ron would see, once and for all, the reality of their relationship—or lack thereof. And perhaps, it would give him the closure he seemed unable to find on his own.
She closed the book with a decisive snap, her mind made up. This was a risk worth taking if it meant ending this uncomfortable chapter and moving on. She just needed to gather the ingredients and wait for the right moment. Until then, she would keep this plan to herself. It had to be executed perfectly, without any chance of interference—or misunderstanding.