novelcrest Chapter 383 Hermione Stuck in the Pipe
Chapter 383 Hermione Stuck in the Pipe
Chapter 383 Hermione Stuck in the Pipe (Part 2)
"Don't go too far!" Hermione cried out, but could only feel Sean's even bolder move—his hand grabbed her foot directly.
"Ah..." Hermione cried out, her whole body going limp.
The sudden attack rendered her powerless to resist, and she could only secretly regret her impulsive decision to enter the Ministry of Magic, thus inviting trouble into her home.
"You scoundrel...!" Hermione tried to break free, but she couldn't escape his clutches and ended up having her leg grabbed instead.
Five minutes later, Sean used a cleansing spell to give the buttocks in front of him a simple yet thorough cleansing, restoring everything to its original state.
As he watched his buttocks gradually disappear into the pipe, he straightened his clothes.
It's time to go back to Hogwarts.
He has class tomorrow.
On the other side, Hermione suddenly slid out of the pipe and crashed heavily onto the floor.
Harry, Ron, and Sophia were standing not far away, and they were all stunned by Hermione's disheveled appearance.
"Hermione! What's wrong?" Harry rushed over and helped her up from the ground.
"I," Hermione said, straightening her robes as she tried to regain her composure, "I'm fine. Let's get going, don't waste time!"
"Are you alright?" Ron raised an eyebrow, pointing to her disheveled hair and dusty hem of her robe. "You don't look alright."
"Don't speak!" Hermione gritted her teeth, quickly tugging at her clothes, trying to conceal any unusual signs.
She looked up and glanced around, then said angrily, "Hurry up and leave! Don't waste time!"
Although Hermione's tone was frighteningly calm, the blush on her ears had already betrayed her true emotions.
The others didn't dare ask any more questions and quickly followed her away. Sophia, however, couldn't help but chuckle and whispered, "Looks like we missed a good show."
"Shut up!" Hermione practically yelled, quickening her pace as she tried to shake off all the memories of what had just happened.
And so, the group finally returned to the place they had agreed upon with Joggins.
Johansson was leaning against the wall when he saw them rushing over. A slight smile played on his lips as he said in a relaxed tone, "You guys are pretty punctual, you're back before two o'clock."
"We have found what we need."
“Well done. Next, I’ll use the Portkey to send you back to Hogsmeade, but remember, you must return to Hogwarts immediately to avoid arousing suspicion.” Jorgins said, taking out the previous Portkey from his cloak—that inconspicuous old boot—and placing it on the ground. “Everyone, come here and hold on tight.”
Harry, Ron, Sophia, and Hermione gathered around, each placing their hands on their boots, ready to activate the teleportation spell.
The boots began to glow faintly, and then a powerful pulling sensation swept over everyone, turning the scene before them into a blurry vortex.
A few seconds later, they crashed heavily into an alley in Hogsmeade.
The night air was crisp and cool, and faint laughter drifted from the Three Brooms Bar in the distance; all around was quiet.
"Alright," Jorgins said in a low voice, "I have to get back to the Ministry of Magic. You can go back on your own."
Harry and Ron nodded and were about to leave when Hermione suddenly spoke up: "You guys go ahead, I want to be alone for a while."
Harry and Ron paused for a moment, then exchanged a glance.
Ron scratched his head, asking in confusion, "Are you alright, Hermione?"
"I'm fine." Hermione shook her head. "I just need some peace and quiet."
Harry glanced at her, seemingly sensing her complicated emotions, but still nodded: "Okay, let's go back first, don't linger too long."
"Don't worry, I know." Hermione forced a smile and watched them turn and leave.
As they disappeared into the night, Hermione stood still, raising her hand to gently touch the Time-Turner hanging around her neck.
Under the moonlight, the small hourglass emitted a faint golden glow, as if responding to her inner struggle.
She looked down at the time-space converter, her eyes filled with complex emotions.
"If... I hadn't gone to Professor Phillips's office, that wouldn't have happened..."
"If...that incident hadn't happened, I wouldn't have come to the Ministry of Magic tonight..."
"If... I hadn't come to the Ministry of Magic tonight, I wouldn't have been defiled by someone whose face I'd never even seen..."
"If—if I could go back a few days," she murmured, "everything that happened today could be changed."
Hermione closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and seemed to have made up her mind.
She gently turned the time-space converter, and the golden sand began to spin rapidly, distorting the surrounding air.
Time has begun to flow backward.
a few days ago.
Hermione, having returned to Hogwarts through the secret passage, realized she had traveled back to a few days earlier.
After clearing her mind, she knew she had to leave a message for her past self, preventing her from having any contact with Professor Phillips, while also ensuring that nothing would arouse suspicion from others.
Professor Phillips' office was the source of everything—she was absolutely certain of it!
With the plan finalized, Hermione pulled a piece of parchment and a quill from her pocket and quickly scribbled down a short but clear message: Hermione, don't go to Professor Phillips' office. Trust me, this will avoid a lot of unnecessary trouble. You have more important things to do—Buckbeak's case is more complicated than you think.
Hermione folded the note and prepared to tuck it under her pillow in her bedroom.
However, as she walked down a long corridor, she almost bumped into someone she knew.
"Hermione?" Harry stood up and asked in a low voice, "What are you doing here so late?"
Hermione's mind was in a mess. She waved her hand frantically, hurried to Harry, and whispered, "Harry, please...please don't tell anyone you saw me, okay?"
Harry frowned, somewhat puzzled. "Why? What happened?"
"I..." Hermione bit her lip, trying to appear calm, but her trembling legs betrayed her nervousness. "I have something to take care of, but it's not important. You just need to promise me you won't tell anyone, please."
Harry stared at her for a few seconds, puzzled by Hermione's unusual behavior, but he nodded anyway. "Okay, I won't tell anyone. But Hermione, are you really alright?"
"It's alright, really it's alright," Hermione replied quickly, her words almost inaudible. "I have to go now, Harry, go home and get some rest."
After saying that, she left the corridor in a hurry without waiting for Harry to ask any more questions, her steps much faster than usual.
Harry watched her figure disappear at the end of the corridor, his questions growing even deeper.
He glanced down at the book in his hand, silently noting Hermione's unusual behavior that evening.
Meanwhile, Hermione was rushing down the corridor, desperately trying to calm herself down.
She knew that tonight's events were already complicated enough, and she absolutely could not afford any more mistakes.
She finally breathed a sigh of relief after pushing open the dormitory door.
Hermione carefully placed the note under her pillow—under which was also a copy of "Advanced Transfiguration Theory" that she always carried with her.
She was certain that her past self would find the note the next morning.
After doing all this, Hermione couldn't help but breathe a sigh of relief.
She glanced around the empty common room, still feeling uneasy, but also thinking that this was the safest course of action.
"I hope we can avoid all the accidents this time," she whispered to herself.
Then, she tugged at the time-space converter hanging around her neck and started turning it on.
The vortex of time pulled her back in, taking her back to her own timeline.
The next day.
Sunlight streamed through the windows of the tall Gryffindor Tower onto the dormitory floor, filling the air with the tranquility of the early morning.
Hermione gradually awoke from her sleep, blinked, and moved her body slightly, but felt an indescribable tension welling up in her chest.
She sat up quickly, her mind replaying everything from the previous night: the use of the time-space converter, secretly returning to the past, and that crucial note.
Hermione's gaze quickly shifted to under the pillow, her fingers tracing the paper, which was indeed tucked inside.
She unfolded the note, and familiar handwriting came into view:
Hermione, don't go to Professor Phillips' office. Trust me, this will avoid a lot of unnecessary trouble. You have more important things to do—Buckbeak's case is more complicated than you think.
Hermione's heart raced. Although it was a note she had written herself, seeing those familiar words again now gave her an inexplicable sense of alienation.
She tried to convince herself that everything had changed as planned, that her past self must have seen the warning, and that the ensuing embarrassment and chaos should have been nipped in the bud.
However, the lingering unease in my heart wouldn't go away.
Hermione took a deep breath, trying to calm herself, but an ominous premonition gradually enveloped her.
She instinctively reached under her skirt.
When her fingertips touched that familiar swelling, Hermione's body stiffened abruptly, and the color drained from her face, replaced by a deathly pale expression.
"Why hasn't anything changed?" she murmured to herself, her voice so low it was almost inaudible, yet a wave of terror washed over her.
Two weeks later—during those two weeks, Hermione seemed like a different person, wandering aimlessly through the corridors of Hogwarts all day long.
In class, she no longer raised her hand to answer questions. When professors occasionally asked, she would just give a few perfunctory answers. She even rarely went to the library, which she loved most.
Harry and Ron noticed her unusual behavior, but she avoided answering their questions whenever they tried to ask her.
Ron tentatively asked, "Hermione, have you been too tired lately? Don't you need to rest?"
Hermione simply shook her head and whispered, "I'm fine," before quickly leaving.
In the library, late at night—
In the dead of night, when no one was around, Hermione was curled up alone in a corner of the library, surrounded by thick stacks of books and scrolls.
Her fingers lightly traced the yellowed parchment, her eyes scanning the contents over and over again, but her gaze was empty and unfocused.
"Why is this happening?" Hermione murmured softly, her voice almost inaudible.
She clutched her sleeves tightly, her fingertips turning white.
That embarrassing and humiliating memory is like a poisonous thorn deeply embedded in Hermione's mind, impossible to shake off.
She tried to change her fate by resetting time again and again, but found that every effort was futile in the face of fate's trajectory.
Back in her dorm, Hermione became unusually silent.
Lying in bed, she stared blankly at the ceiling, the cold touch of the time-space converter against her skin like a burden she could never shake off.
"If—if that day could be completely erased, I would pay any price."
She closed her eyes and gently grasped the time-space converter.
For the past two weeks, Hermione has turned the hourglass countless times, trying to find the branching point in the timeline that could be changed, but each time, the result remains the same.
She always woke up in a cycle of failure, and the inner struggle gradually dragged her into the abyss.
Ron and Harry grew increasingly worried as she became more and more depressed.
“Hermione has never done this before,” Ron said to Harry, frowning. “She even forgot to hand in her last paper! This is unlike her.”
Harry looked at Hermione's bowed back, his expression complex.
He seemed to have a vague sense that Hermione must be going through something, but she chose to keep everything buried in her heart.
Every time they tried to get close, she would refuse them in a resolute manner.
One evening, Hermione sat alone by the lake, gazing at the tranquil surface of the water in the distance.
She took the time-space converter out of her pocket and ran her fingertips along the clock hand on it.
The sunlight flowed through the hourglass, casting a soft halo.
"Was it my fault?" Hermione murmured to herself, her voice filled with helplessness. "Or was fate telling me from the very beginning?"
Is nothing going to change?
The golden sand in the hourglass flowed silently, as if responding to her without a word.
Hermione remained silent for a long time.
As dusk fell, the lake reflected a mix of deep blue and orange hues, with occasional gentle breezes rippling across its surface.
Hermione remained seated, her silhouette blending seamlessly into the landscape, appearing exceptionally lonely and vulnerable.
"It's so late, why are you still here?" A deep and gentle voice came from behind her.
Hermione froze and looked up at the source of the sound.
She saw Professor Phillips standing not far away, his hands in his robe pockets, watching her with gentle eyes.
His figure was outlined in a soft silhouette by the setting sun, and he didn't look as sharp as before, but rather had a rare tenderness about him.
"Professor?" Hermione quickly lowered her head, trying to hide her embarrassment, and tightened her grip on the Time-Turner hanging around her neck.
She didn't answer his question, but simply replied calmly, "I just want to be alone here for a while, it's okay."
Sean didn't reply immediately, but slowly walked over to her and sat down on the grass next to her.
The two maintained a distance that was neither too close nor too far.
He looked at the lake, paused for a moment, then said in a relaxed tone, "You don't look alright, Hermione. In fact,
More unlike anything I've ever seen.
Hermione's hand tightened unconsciously, her fingertips almost digging into the chains of the time-travel converter.
She said softly, "I'm fine, Professor, really nothing. I'm just—a little tired lately."
"Tired?" Sean raised an eyebrow slightly, glancing at her sideways. "Hermione, Hogwarts has many bright students, but I've only ever seen one like you. You can fool others, but you can't fool me."
Hermione bit her lower lip, her gaze fixed on the ground, and her expression gradually crumbled.
She tried to catch her breath, but found that the pent-up emotions inside her surged up like a breached dam. "So what should I say, Professor? Should I say I can't take all of this? Should I say I can't even save my past self?"
Hermione's voice trembled, filled with undisguised despair, and her eyes were slightly red, but she stubbornly refused to let the tears fall.
As Sean looked at her, the sharpness in his eyes was gradually replaced by a complex emotion.
He spoke slowly, "Hermione, I don't know what you're going through, but I can sense that you're carrying too much that you shouldn't have to bear alone. Hogwarts teaches us knowledge, but no one teaches us how to fight against fate. And you—you're too stubborn."
He paused, his gaze sweeping over her tightly clenched fingers, as if he sensed the secret she was trying to hide, but he didn't reveal it.
"You know what?" he said, looking at the distant lake. "Many times, fate is not something we can completely control."
Even the smartest person can't win every time. This doesn't mean failure; it means you're still growing.
Hermione slowly raised her head, a hint of confusion in her eyes: "But if I can't even make a change, what else can I do?"
Sean smiled slightly and calmly replied, "Sometimes, we don't need to change the past, but rather accept it and use it to create a better future. Every setback becomes a foundation for you to become stronger. But the prerequisite is that you must forgive yourself."
Hermione froze, the Time-Turner slipped slightly from her hand, the pendant swaying in the wind.
She looked down at it, her gaze gradually becoming complicated, as if she was processing his words.
"Hermione, you're strong enough already," Sean continued, his tone as gentle as if comforting a wounded animal, "but don't forget, you're human too. Allowing yourself to be weak isn't failure; it's part of your growth."
Then, Sean turned to look at Hermione, placed her hand on his chest, and said quite solemnly.
"No matter what, you'll always have me."
"No matter what you become, you will still have me."
As Sean Huayu fell, Hermione finally released the time-travel converter from her fingertips and looked up at him.
The sunlight of the setting sun shone on her face, concealing the slight moisture in her eyes.
"Thank you, Professor," Hermione murmured.
Sean didn't say anything more, just nodded, then stood up and straightened his robe: "Let's go, it's getting dark. It's not safe for me to stay here alone."
Hermione nodded gently, stood up and followed behind him. The afterglow of the setting sun cast long shadows of the two of them onto the grass by the lake, swaying slightly in the wind.
(3003 words have been deleted)