"I solemnly swear that I am up to no good."

Potter had kept his word. On the second night after the Quidditch match, I eyed him suspiciously as he fished out a crumpled piece of parchment from his pocket. It was so unassuming that it would blend right in if dropped on the floor. Then he tapped it with his wand. Hugging the Invisibility Cloak he'd just handed me, I warily scanned the entire Gryffindor common room. The elation of winning the Quidditch match had buoyed the Gryffindors for two days. At last, as the weather grew warmer, they belatedly realized that the final exams were practically upon them. It seemed that this year, there would be no Slytherin basilisk to prompt the headmaster to call off the exams.

"Relax, Iris," Potter said to me after unfurling the parchment. Perhaps I looked as if I was cradling a cauldron on the verge of exploding. "It's not that big of a deal."

"We're going to break at least five school rules tonight," I said, a tinge of worry in my voice.

Potter seemed to have heard something highly amusing. I pressed my lips together and watched as he couldn't help but burst out laughing.

I lowered my head, curious to see countless ink dots spreading across the otherwise unremarkable parchment. They flowed smoothly across the paper as if alive, then formed thin border patterns. Hang on, they weren't patterns. I leaned in closer. There were small and large squares, and the tiny letters beside the dots, written in a florid script that resembled mosquito legs——I saw, in a small circle pointed at by the tip of Potter's wand, beside two ink dots floated the names "Harry Potter" and "Iris Snape".

This was amazing. I bent down and made out Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil among the dense ink dots nearby. And there was Miss Granger, who seemed to be sitting beside the icon of a window. In another corner, I also saw Draco's name. His ink dot was very close to Pansy Parkinson's, and the square they were in was marked as the Slytherin common room.

"Can this map show all the people in Hogwarts?" I couldn't hide the astonishment in my voice. "This is incredible. What kind of magic could achieve... And that Invisibility Cloak. I see, you've managed not to get caught by Filch all these years with their help?"

"Nearly." Potter corrected me. As if recalling something unpleasant, his brows knitted. "In first year, we were sent to the Forbidden Forest by Filch."

"Wait, I see - " Just as we were making sure that all the Gryffindors except us had returned to their dormitories, and I was sweating in my palms as I put on the Invisibility Cloak, Potter suddenly said, looking at the map, "Iris, come out, Professor McGonagall - "

Before he could finish, Professor McGonagall, wearing a plaid nightgown and a lacy hairnet, climbed into the Gryffindor common room and stared at Potter and me in surprise. In a hurry, I quickly hid the hand holding the Invisibility Cloak behind my back.

"Miss Snape, Mr. Potter." She seemed quite astonished to see the two of us alone in the common room. "Although I really came to look for you, I didn't expect you two to be up so late."

"The final exams are approaching, Professor." Potter explained without batting an eyelid. As he spoke, he slowly took the Invisibility Cloak from my palm behind his back. His fingers were warm, even though I was the one closer to the fireplace.

Professor McGonagall didn't seem to care much about Potter's lie (later, when I thought about this, I always felt that she might have known that Potter and I were about to break the school rules). She looked at us and said, "Your parents have now arrived in London."

"My parents? My dad and mom?" I instantly forgot what I was about to do and almost rushed right up to Professor McGonagall. "Professor, you mean my dad and mom have arrived in London together? Dad has already found mom in Albania?"

"Yes." Professor McGonagall forgave my far - from - polite shrill question. There was a smile on her face. "I promised to inform you when there was new news, Miss Snape. However, both of your parents will need to receive treatment at St. Mungo's for a while, and Potter, your father as well."

"Are they all right? Dad, Aunt Lily, and - Professor Snape?" Potter asked eagerly. "And Peter Pettigrew, has he been caught - "

"Can I go to St. Mungo's to see Mom and Dad?" I interrupted his stream of questions and also spoke in a hurry. "Professor, I'll just go and take a look tonight. I promise I won't miss tomorrow's classes."

Professor McGonagall raised her hand to stop the barrage of words about ten people coming from our two mouths. At this moment, she regained the solemnity of the Gryffindor Head of House, no longer showing the visible relief and the barely - detectable bit of tenderness when she first entered the common room.

"First of all, your parents' conditions are under control. Don't worry. The healers at St. Mungo's will make them recover. " She pursed her lips. "The news that you're allowed to know will be published in the Daily Prophet tomorrow. As Mr. Potter said before, the final exams are approaching, and you both need to focus more on your studies. Leave the things outside school to the adults. Finally, Miss Snape, I understand your eagerness to see your mother, but students are never allowed to leave Hogwarts at night."

I lowered my head and nodded, looking at my toes.

"All right, go to rest quickly." She folded her arms. "I'll watch you go back to your dormitories."

In the girls' dormitory, only Miss Granger was still awake. She was sitting by the windowsill, reading a thick book by the faint light of the tip of her wand. The large ginger cat named Crookshanks was curled up by her legs, purring contentedly. When it saw me approaching, it stared at me warily with its eyes wide open.

Miss Granger gently patted the cat's head, and it curled up into a ball again, mumbling some cat language that we couldn't understand. Because of the Buckbeak incident, Miss Granger had been a bit cold towards me. She had always known that I had a good relationship with Draco. Due to some girls complaining that her late - night reading disturbed their rest, Miss Granger had always been staying up late in the common room to look up information. Today, Potter must have told her something in advance, so she left early.

"Did you find what you were looking for?" She looked up and mouthed the question to me, her eyes clearly showing the fatigue from lack of sleep.

I opened my mouth, hesitated for a moment, and then said to her, "My mom was found."

I hadn't told Miss Granger about my mom disappearing in the Albanian forest. The Daily Prophet had only written a few vague sentences about some relevant people getting separated from the group. She probably hadn't heard about this from Potter either, because she was stunned for a moment first, and then she stood up and gave me a hug.

My face was tickled by her frizzy hair. She gently patted my back and whispered, "You've been through a lot... It's good that everything's okay."

I've always thought that Miss Granger is a very gentle person. Although she has a terrifying obsession with her grades, always hoping to be the first to do everything perfectly. At school, Ron Weasley always said she had a bad temper. Many years later, her decisive and efficient work style also attracted some criticism. But I've always believed in Hermione Granger's kindness, tenacity, and enthusiasm. At that time, even though in the eyes of many people, I was in the same boat as the instigator of the incident she was desperately trying to resolve, on that night, exhausted and almost on the verge of collapse, she still didn't forget to give me a simple hug to celebrate the end of the matter.

"I'll think of a way about Buckbeak," I whispered. "Thank you, Miss Granger."

The next morning, when I was spreading orange jam on a slice of toast with a pair of dark circles under my eyes again, an owl flew over and landed in front of me, stretching out one of its feet. What was tied to its foot was more like a small note rather than a letter, and there was a bit of dark brown liquid on it, which seemed to be potion.

Mom has woken up. You'll be arranged to visit her this weekend.

S. Snape

PS：

Don't worry. Focus on preparing for the final exams.

I rubbed my eyes, carefully rolled up the note and put it in my Potions textbook. Looking up at the enchanted ceiling above, I felt that the sunlight was much brighter than a few days ago. The Potter trio were huddled together, studying today's Daily Prophet. Neville was listening uneasily to their whispered discussion. More owls flew in, bringing a rain of letters and small packages.

Someone rushed to the table, grabbed a piece of cake with one hand, and then dashed up the stairs at top speed. Someone else, yawning and half - asleep, was trying to poke the scrambled eggs on their fork into their nostril. I felt full of energy at this moment, and was also brimming with hope for the future. Maybe I could even succeed in the Transfiguration practice right away in one go.

However, this light - hearted and cheerful mood didn't last long. A careening owl nearly knocked over the largest bottle of milk on the Gryffindor dining table. Miss Granger also untied a crumpled piece of paper from its foot. It looked as if someone had used it to blow their nose.

"What's wrong, Hermione?" Potter folded the front - page picture of Peter Pettigrew in the Daily Prophet, whose face was empty and dazed like a zombie after having his soul sucked out by the Dementors, and looked at Miss Granger, whose face had suddenly gone pale.

"Hagrid lost the case," she said simply, shoving the remaining bread in her plate, along with a bit of syrup, down her throat in one go. "They're going to sentence Buckbeak to death."

There was a brief silence at the Gryffindor dining table. After all, almost everyone here had stood indignantly on Buckbeak's side back then, accusing the Slytherins led by Draco of confusing the public and exaggerating the facts. But I believe that if the owl delivering the letter to Miss Granger hadn't made such a commotion today, many people would have basically forgotten about this matter.

"Can we appeal? I mean, surely we can still do something to help." Potter, looking a bit anxious, had just started speaking when Miss Granger impatiently shook her head. "That path is a dead - end."

After saying that, she slung her schoolbag over her shoulder and walked out of the Great Hall without looking back.

"I admit we didn't prioritize this matter before," Black said, shrugging as he ate his bread. "But isn't she being a bit too harsh? After all, we haven't been idle recently - "

"Don't say that," Ron said, uncharacteristically not commenting on Miss Granger's irascible temper. "She's under too much pressure. Look at her schoolbag. It wouldn't be strange if it could smash a hole in the floor of Hogwarts right on the spot."

Pressure seemed to be everywhere. Professor McGonagall was sternly reminding us, who were yawning non - stop, that the final exams were approaching. ("There are still exactly two - and - a - half months - almost three months! I really don't understand. At this rate, the next Christmas will be here soon," Ron Weasley muttered under his breath.) At the same time, she didn't slow down the pace of teaching. She reminded us to arrange our time reasonably for learning new content and reviewing old knowledge, and emphasized that this year's exams would by no means be as easy as those in the first year. ("I didn't find the first - year finals easy at all," Ron Weasley said, and was then stared at sternly by Professor McGonagall.)

"If you feel that way, Mr. Weasley," her eyes were like those of a cat ready to hunt at night, "I would suggest that you spend more time in class instead of secretly reading the Daily Prophet while I'm teaching. Five points from Gryffindor. Yes, your little tricks under the table are not as inconspicuous as you think."

"Professor McGonagall, I have a question. Since Peter Pettigrew has been arrested, why haven't the Dementors stationed around Hogwarts been withdrawn?" Miss Granger raised her hand before the class ended.

"Regarding the inefficiency of the Ministry of Magic, perhaps a whole book could be written to study why it's so low, Miss Granger." Professor McGonagall stared at us coldly through her glasses. "No matter how much news you've learned from various sources today, everyone, the state of martial law at Hogwarts has not ended. At any time, violating school rules will be punished accordingly."

"Don't you think it's strange? What McGonagall said today - why hasn't the state of martial law at Hogwarts ended? Is it the same as what we guessed?" After the bell rang, I heard Black behind me say in a low voice, "Harry, be sure to ask your dad when you see him this weekend - "

"Are you also going to St. Mungo's this weekend?" I turned around and asked Potter, who was still holding the Daily Prophet. "Ah, yes." Potter nodded to me. "Dad said I'm just along for the ride. Anyway, the Portkey has been applied for, so I might as well go and see him and mom."

I suddenly had a very bad premonition about the weekend visit to the hospital. It turned out that although Miss Patil and Miss Brown were using all kinds of strange methods to divinate "what to wear to have good luck in love" in the dormitory, and I could never understand what they were muttering and doing, I seemed to have quite a talent for premonition about the future - maybe I should have chosen Divination instead of Arithmancy when school started.

I quickly dismissed this idea. Before dinner, the news that Miss Granger had contradicted Professor Trelawney and left the Divination classroom had spread throughout Gryffindor. As I listened to the vivid details, I scratched my head in confusion. I was certain that I had seen Miss Granger in the Arithmancy class during the time they said the Divination class was taking place. She even earned five points for Gryffindor for answering questions.

A student talking back to a teacher isn't really big news in Gryffindor. After all, the Potter trio have probably talked back to my dad so many times that a baby would never run out of bedtime stories. But when the protagonist of the story is Miss Granger, it's enough to make the girls whisper about it for at least a week. I've already heard Miss Brown imitate Professor Trelawney's description of Miss Granger in three different tones: "Her soul is like a withered leaf."

"She's clearly wrong," I interrupted her fourth imitation. "She's never been right about anything, has she?"

"Professor Trelawney has been right about everything!" I seemed to have stepped on the toes of Professor Trelawney's fanatics. Miss Brown and Miss Patil first loudly listed a series of Professor Trelawney's accurate predictions to me ("Yes! My rabbit left me on that very day!"). Then, they said to me in a sarcastic tone, "If you're really friends with Miss Granger, you'd better think about how to beg Malfoy to spare that hippogriff. Isn't she exhausted because of this matter these days?"

"Yeah, why don't you go beg your Slytherin? Or write to your dad?" I opened my mouth to refute, but then found that they were right. This thing had happened so long ago, and all I had done was have a pointless argument with Draco in the hospital wing.

"Whose Slytherin?" A lazy voice came from behind. Draco emerged from nowhere. He pushed Miss Brown aside roughly. Although there was a smile on his face, his tone was arrogant and rude. "Are you talking about me?"