Hogwarts' Golden Glory

"Further reading about the little boy?" Jane asked gently.

Hermione didn't deny it, but her face turned red as she looked down and fiddled with her quill.

"He's researching some very old things, Mom. I think...maybe I can help organize the information and offer some different perspectives."

Jane observed her daughter's expression—a focused expression that blended academic enthusiasm with deeper emotions.

As a mother, she could see Hermione's special feelings for the boy;

"Just remember to rest when needed," Jane finally said, patting Hermione's hair.

After her mother left, Hermione returned to her studies.

She can't fall too far behind her opponent!

Outside the window, the London summer afternoon sun gradually dipped westward.

With only two weeks left in summer vacation, Hermione felt she was only just beginning to understand the deeper structure of the magical world.

This made her both excited and a little uneasy.

Two weeks later.

King's Cross Station, Platform 9¾.

Steam filled the air, owls hooted in their cages, and carts rolled along the platform.

Students, dressed in various casual clothes and accompanied by their families, searched for their carriages, their faces filled with anticipation for the new semester and reluctance to leave the summer vacation behind.

Hermione pushed the luggage cart between her parents.

Today she was wearing a simple white shirt and dark blue jeans, her thick brown hair tied in a high ponytail—Luna once said that this helped her concentrate her "thinking energy," and although Hermione thought it was nonsense, she tried it once and found it was indeed convenient, so she made it a habit.

"Remember to write a letter when you get to school."

Jane Granger instructed her to straighten her daughter's collar.

"I will, Mom."

"And another thing," Mr. Granger adjusted his glasses, "that... Kane you mentioned? If he needs help with academic discussions, you can share your notes, but don't overwork yourself. Forty-seven books in one summer, Hermione, that's not something a normal person does."

Hermione's face flushed slightly: "I didn't do it for him... I just..."

"We know, darling," Jane smiled, not pointing out her daughter's embarrassment. "Go on, the train is about to leave."

Hermione kissed her parents goodbye and pushed the luggage cart toward the train.

Crookshank meowed in the cage, as if urging them on.

She found a half-empty compartment near the back of the train. After putting away her luggage and settling Crookshan, she pulled out a copy of "A Study of the Genealogy of Medieval Magic" from her bag, intending to continue reading during the journey.

Just as I turned to the title page, the door to the private room was pulled open.

Is anyone here?

Hermione looked up, her heart skipped a beat.

Kane Malfoy stood in the doorway, dressed in a well-tailored dark gray casual suit, his light blond hair gleaming like platinum under the lights of the train corridor.

The phoenix wasn't on his shoulder—Iglesias was probably already at Hogwarts having fun with Fawkes.

His grey eyes calmly swept across the private room, pausing for a moment when they landed on Hermione.

Draco followed behind him.

The young master of the Malfoy family was dressed in the same elegant black casual clothes, and his expression was a little more... Hermione couldn't quite put her finger on it, but he didn't seem as irritating as before.

He was carrying a very expensive-looking suitcase with a silver family crest sticker on one corner.

"No one's here," Hermione said, trying to sound normal. "Please come in."

Kane nodded, stepped aside to let Draco go in first, then came in himself and closed the door.

The two brothers sat down opposite Hermione.

"How was your summer vacation?" Kane asked, breaking the silence.

"Not bad." Hermione closed the book in her hands, placing it face down on her lap—she didn't want him to see what she was studying. "I've read a lot of books. How about you?"

"Busy," Kane said briefly, a slight smile playing on his lips, "but fruitful."

Draco snorted from the side: "He spent the entire summer in the library and didn't even play Quidditch with me once."

"You can fight Crabbe and his gang."

"Play Quidditch with those two? They'll break your broomsticks."

Hermione couldn't help but chuckle. She noticed that Draco's way of complaining had changed—before it was "Crawb and Goyle are too stupid, I can't play with them," now it was "They'll break the broomstick"—it was still a complaint, but it had less of a condescending tone and more of... helplessness?

Perhaps she's overthinking it.

"Granger," Draco turned to her, his tone tinged with a reluctant curiosity, "how many books did you read over the summer?"

"Forty-seven books," Hermione blurted out, then seemed a little annoyed—saying such a precise number made her seem deliberate.

Draco's eyes widened. "Forty-seven? Are you crazy?"

"You two are both crazy!"

"I just... have a research interest."

"What are you researching?" Kane asked casually, but his gaze had already fallen on the exposed spine of the book on her lap.

Hermione instinctively pulled the book closer to her chest: "It's related to the history of magic."

Kane didn't press further, he simply nodded.

The light in the carriage flickered as the train moved. Hermione pretended to be reading a book, but her gaze had already drifted from the top of the pages to the opposite side several times.

Kane leaned back in his seat with his eyes closed.

Her gaze fell on the knuckles of his left hand.

There is a new scar.

It was very small, between my index and middle fingers, like being grazed by something sharp.

The wound has healed, but there are still light pink marks, indicating that it happened in the last few weeks.

Hermione felt a sudden pang in her heart.

"What happened to your hand?" she asked, her voice softer than she had expected.

Kane opened his eyes, glanced down at his hands, and said, "It's nothing."

"There's a scar." Hermione put down her book and leaned forward slightly. "It wasn't there before."

Draco, who was munching on a chocolate frog he'd bought from the snack cart, curiously leaned over to take a look: "It really is. How did you do that?"

Kane turned his hand over, as if it didn't matter: "I accidentally cut myself."

Hermione did not look away.

Her gaze shifted from the scar to his face—he was a little thinner than before summer vacation, his jawline was more defined, and the shadows under his eyes were deeper than she remembered.

"You didn't get a proper rest during the summer vacation," she said, not as a question, but as a statement.

Kane glanced at her. His gray eyes looked particularly deep in the shadows of the carriage, like a lake in winter.

"There are some things to do," he said, his tone was flat, but there was a subtle softening at the end of his voice.

Hermione bit her lower lip.

She recalled the rumors she had heard about the Ministry of Magic.

Where did you go?

Kane was silent for two seconds. Draco stopped chewing, his eyes darting between the two men.

"I walked around a bit," Kane said.

"You won't tell me anything."

The carriage suddenly fell silent.

Draco slowly put down the Chocolate Frog, looked at Hermione with a completely new, shocked expression, and then turned to Kane.

Kane simply looked at Hermione and remained silent for a moment.

"I'll be more careful next time," he said.

The moment he said those words, even he himself seemed somewhat surprised.

His eyelashes drooped slightly, then lifted, his gaze shifting from Hermione's face to the window.

Hermione's heart skipped a beat.

Draco made a very soft sound beside him, somewhere between a cough and a sigh.

He leaned back, crossed his arms over his chest, and looked at the roof of the car with an expression that said, "I suddenly realized I'm a third wheel."