In the school infirmary, several professors were visiting the two injured students. Madam Pomfrey forced a large bottle of potion down each of the young Gryffindors' throats, her expression one of joy... no, kindly joy, despite their pained grimaces.
"Get some rest. After a night's sleep, these injuries will heal right up."
After saying this, Madam Pomfrey turned to the other professors—a clear signal that it was time to leave. The presence of one of the Three Great Witches of Hogwarts was so overpowering that even someone like Dumbledore couldn't save face after being shooed away. One by one, the professors retreated from Madam Pomfrey's domain.
The Three Great Witches of Hogwarts referred to Madam Pomfrey of the infirmary, Madam Pince of the library, and Argus Filch's cat—Mrs. Norris.
In the infirmary, if any student dared disobey Madam Pomfrey, they would most certainly undergo a heaven-and-hell kind of experience. As a school nurse from Hufflepuff with strong medical ethics, she would never actually harm a student—but subtle intimidation and ever-changing potion flavors were more than enough to tame any troublemakers.
Madam Pince in the library was a different force altogether. Within the entire school library, only she—and only she—was allowed to loudly scold students who made noise. Alongside the cracking sound of her feather duster, she would chase out the rare few who dared challenge her authority.
Gryffindors felt this the most deeply. Their so-called bravery and rebellious spirit meant nothing to Madam Pince—perhaps on par with the dust on the books, both being eyesores that must be swept away.
As for Mrs. Norris, while she might not be loved by all during the day, she was like a ghost or spirit at night. Her silent prowling made her the bane of all students who enjoyed nighttime adventures. As long as the target was a student, Mrs. Norris could find them by instinct alone—not even Harry Potter's invisibility cloak could keep her away.
No one dared to show disrespect toward Mrs. Norris. Behind her stood not only Filch, the Squib caretaker, but every professor in Hogwarts and even Headmaster Dumbledore. She embodied the school rules themselves.
While Harry Potter quietly recovered in the infirmary, Hermione made her way to the eighth floor and knocked on the door to Regulus Black's private room.
Normally, the Room of Requirement wouldn't transform into another room while someone was using it. In other words, once someone occupied it, the version used to store junk couldn't be accessed. Even when relocating the Vanishing Cabinet, Regulus Black had to first leave his private room, open the "I need a place to hide things" version, store the cabinet into the system, and then bring it back into his personal space.
To know who was currently using the Room of Requirement, you only had to look at the door's appearance—every time a new room is created, the style of the door changes.
Moreover, aside from the door's design changing, the room could also be set for specific users. Unless the person who created it left Hogwarts or hid the room themselves, no one else could use it.
Regulus Black, however, had not hidden his room. Ever since he created his private space, he had kept the door exposed for anyone to see.
The entire door was a large mirror, framed with metallic vine-like decorations in the four corners. This mirror could be used by those passing outside or by someone inside the room. But to enter through it, one had to know the spell—it certainly wasn't "Open Sesame."
"Anbaani-lay-hong!"
In Hermione's hand was a handkerchief—something Regulus Black had casually given her the day the troll appeared, right after she'd exited the bathroom stall.
At the time, she hadn't seen anyone, but it had felt natural to accept it. With Hermione's intellect, she had quickly become curious about the ornate script on the handkerchief. Though she didn't know what "anbaaihong" actually meant, that didn't stop her from trying it elsewhere.
Especially after confirming that the person who saved her had indeed been Regulus Black, and learning that he lived behind the mirror on the eighth floor, Hermione had a good idea what the handkerchief might be for.
What Hermione didn't know, though, was that the handkerchief would only work in her hands. Anyone else wiping the mirror with it would achieve nothing.
After chanting the spell, the surface of the mirror rippled like water. Hermione took a deep breath and stepped inside.
The room was octagonal and nearly circular—spacious and bright. A four-poster bed in the corner practically invited you to roll around on it. Aside from the entrance mirror, the only decoration was a massive Hogwarts crest on the wall directly opposite.
The remaining six walls were partially covered with drapes, but it was clear that most of the space was filled with books and magical tools. One wall was lined with potions cabinets, and in this corner, cauldrons of various sizes were neatly arranged. Some were even magically protected and were currently brewing potions of unknown effects.
While Hermione was a little surprised she'd made it in, what she felt more than anything was disappointment. The room was fully visible at a glance—and the person she came looking for wasn't there.
"Clack-ta! Clack! Clack! Clack! Zzz... Ding!"
A string of eerie mechanical noises rang out, finally stopping behind Hermione.
Feeling as though something was watching her, Hermione stiffly turned around—and saw a puppet dressed in a gothic maid outfit standing before her.
"Welcome, Miss Hermione. Is there anything you need?"
It spoke in a cold, expressionless tone, reciting the standard lines of a maid with zero enthusiasm.
"Uh... I—I came to see the assistant. If he's not here, then I'll just leave."
Hermione tried to slip past the puppet and escape, but it extended an arm to block her, its blade-like fingers gleaming sharply.
"Mr. Black instructed that if Miss Hermione were to visit, she should be asked to wait a moment."
The puppet guided Hermione toward a tea table and gestured for her to choose any seat she liked. Only then did Hermione notice that none of the surrounding chairs or tables were the same. Though they were scattered around the tea table in an irregular fashion, the arrangement didn't feel messy. On the contrary, it gave off a sense of effortless comfort.
Choosing a sofa that was just the right height and size, Hermione sat down and immediately sank into it, like a child wrapped in blankets—a sense of safety welled up from within.
Due to Regulus Black's intervention during the Halloween troll incident, Hermione hadn't grown any closer to the other two boys, so she hadn't learned about the Sorcerer's Stone from Harry Potter, nor did she harbor any suspicion toward Snape.
However, that didn't stop the boys from resenting the head of Slytherin—especially after they lost the Quidditch match. Just as football in the UK had its hooligans, Quidditch was no exception.
Ron, in particular, was a Quidditch fanatic. With two older brothers who were Beaters, and his own dream of becoming a Quidditch player someday, he naturally held deep hostility toward Hermione's remarks in favor of Snape.
"Miss Hermione! Do you know what's out there in the world? I was assembled by Master inside this room, and I've never once left it. So, if you could tell me a few stories about the outside, I'd be ever so grateful!"
[Zero]'s voice pulled Hermione's attention back, rousing the sleepy little girl from her drowsiness.
Hermione, the overachiever, instantly switched into "mentor" mode and began sharing everything she knew with [Zero].
She poured out everything like spilling beans—about her life since school started, the differences between the wizarding world and the Muggle world, even the fact that a three-headed dog was guarding a trapdoor on the third floor.
[Zero] was the perfect listener—and even better at responding. No matter what Hermione said, [Zero] reacted with agreement, curiosity, or questions at just the right moments.
This made Hermione nearly turn into a chatterbox, feeling as though [Zero] might be her true best friend. Their compatibility was simply too high.
From the moment Hermione entered the private room, Regulus Black had actually known—but he couldn't return just yet. After parting ways with the little girl at the Quidditch pitch, he had gone to a place called Headless Valley.
Want to read the chapters in Advance? Join my Patreon
https://patreon.com/Glimmer09