I, Hogwarts Second Time Around.

Chapter 149 Friendship with Hibiscus

"Um—I got a little carried away." Hermione, who was inexplicably flustered by Fleur's mesmerizing blue eyes staring at her cheeks, suddenly blushed.

At Hogwarts, there was always a figure above her, suppressing her relentlessly.

No matter how hard she tried, Irving would always be one point ahead of him.

It seems like he did it on purpose!

Just when I feel I'm about to catch up with him, that guy suddenly runs ahead by a huge distance.

Then he turned to look at her with a mocking expression.

Until the next time, she mustered up the courage to fall into the involution again.

How long—how long has it been since she'd seen that look in someone's eyes?

With this belief, Hermione suddenly felt a little proud.

Let's see!

She's just as good.

"Thank you, Hermione." Fleur extended her slender, white hands, speaking in English with a strong French accent.

She held Hermione's hand tightly. "No one has ever said these things to me before. You are the finest witch I've ever met... well, except for our headmaster."

"No need to thank me. I...I'm not that kind!"

Hermione's head was steaming. Fleur's sweet, tingling tone, or rather, the 'praise' from a strange girl, especially since she came from another magic school, pleased Hermione greatly.

The little witch had a rosy complexion and radiated a strong glow called "confidence".

Looking at Hermione's face.

Furong felt a slight stirring in her heart.

Despite being the head wizard of Beauxbatons School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, her reputation within the school was actually not very good.

No matter how well she performs.

There will always be someone who casually dismisses it with a simple, "Hmph—she just had the good fortune to inherit the Veela bloodline!"

From the time she entered the school until now, she has heard similar words countless times.

It's as if a simple phrase about bloodline inheritance has negated all her efforts!

It encompasses all the hardships she endured, such as practicing spells until late at night and even dislocating her arm in pursuit of perfect movements!

What right do they have?!

How could a single sentence destroy all her efforts?

Especially the girls at school!

Because of her innate charm, most boys would flock to her even if she never actively flirted with them.

It might be jealousy, but it's more likely hatred!

Rumors about her circulated throughout the college, with some even fabricating extremely malicious and offensive lies, wantonly trampling on her dignity and personality.

Whenever this happens, she practices magic even more frantically, because only in this way can she briefly escape this world, enter a sweet magical illusion, and escape the gossip of those who criticize her!

"Hibiscus—may I call you that?" Hermione smiled sweetly.

Snapping out of her daze, Furong quickly replied, "Of course. If you like!"

I really like your name.

"Alright—let's begin!"

Taking a deep breath, Hermione calmed herself down.

Then, she began to actually teach the techniques of wandless spellcasting.

Magic flowed slowly from her fingers, like a tray lifting up the surrounding tables and chairs.

In the sunlight, Hermione spread her arms wide, and invisible threads spread out from every part of her body, either sticking to, hooking, or lifting her up.

In short, soon all the desks and chairs in the classroom began to surround her—they circled around her, encircling her from above.

Training has officially begun.

Magic training is like most physical training in the world, or even more arduous, because it involves not only physical pain but also mental anguish.

But this time, Furong did not feel any mental pressure.

She had to admit that Hermione was a rather excellent teacher.

She told her all her understanding of staffless spellcasting.

There was absolutely nothing left unsaid.

It's hard to imagine that they had a fight before, and this was only their first official meeting.

This girl—Furong looked at her gratefully—was so kind and so brave; she possessed qualities that Furong had never had.

That thing fascinated her deeply.

As the sun began to set, the girls' friendship was forged.

They whispered among themselves, discussing magic and relentlessly criticizing Owen.

A silvery laugh echoed from the classroom, soaring far and wide.

As Furong gradually relaxed, she finally found the secret.

She was too tense before.

Sometimes magic works like that; the more you chase it, the less you can grasp it. But when you want to shift your focus, you might just find what you're looking for around the corner.

After several hours, Furong made rapid progress and gradually became able to control some of the lighter tables and chairs to float.

"Hoo hoo~"

Sweat soaked her hair, trickling down her cheeks, across her neck, and across her chest.

Sweat soaked through her silk-like clothes.

"I think I succeeded."

Fleur, whose silver hair shimmered and sparkled, exclaimed in surprise, then immediately turned to look at Hermione, who was sitting on a chair to the side, fanning herself with her palm.

"Hmm—just remember this feeling, and then it's all about trying and practicing." Hermione, who was sweating just as much as Fleur, said weakly.

Her temples were already damp.

She magically tied her loose hair into a ponytail.

Ever since Owen gave her this hairstyle, Hermione has felt that it suits her perfectly, looks good, and keeps her frizzy hair in place.

"That's enough for today!" she said, wiping away her sweat.

"Okay!" Fleur readily agreed, then raised her slender hand and gently fanned Hermione's face with a cool breeze. "Does it feel cool?"

"certainly."

Hermione responded sweetly.

That's how friendships between girls are; they're always built up without them even realizing it.

"It's getting hotter and hotter." A sly glint flashed in the bad girl's eyes. "Hmm—we can go take a bath!"

"A bath?" Hermione jumped up.

------

Beauxbatons has many manors, one after another, and the internal roads are no more complicated than those of Hogwarts.

Although it lacks the spiral staircase, the most important must-see attraction on campus that gives freshmen a headache.

But Beauxbatons' intricate, palatial corridors and gates could easily leave most people bewildered.

Each room has several doors, which are interconnected so that you can't tell which one is the real exit.

In the enormous manor house near the girls' dormitory, passing through the magical barrier, the two quickly arrived at an indoor garden created by advanced alchemy.

There is a spring in the center.

A gentle stream continuously gushes forth from the spring.

A layer of mist was floating on the surface of the water, which clearly indicated that it was not cold water.

Beside the hot spring.

Hibiscus waved her wand, and a row of wooden boxes hidden among the tree trunks in the distance suddenly opened, from which many bathrobes flew out.

"These are my sister Gabrielle's clothes." She said, looking Hermione up and down.

"Maybe it's a little small for you," she said with a grin, draping the bathrobe over Hermione's shoulders.

Then a magical scene unfolded: the bathrobe, made of some unknown material, began to "eat up" the girl's clothes.

Then she wore it close to her skin.

The sudden turn of events startled Hermione, and she quickly hugged her arms tightly.

"Isn't that amazing!" Hibiscus also put on a silver-silk-like bathrobe.

"It looks like just a bathrobe, but it's actually an alchemical creation. It can wrap your original clothes, clean them, and even automatically repair them. After your bath, with a magic spell, it will give you a clean set of clothes again. Isn't that amazing!"

She slowly squatted down, put her left hand into the water, and with her right hand holding the magic wand, danced up and down.

She stopped only after reaching a temperature that made her feel comfortable.

"I heard that Professor Lemaître invented it specifically for his own convenience in taking a bath."

Then she walked into the pool.

She felt the growing sense of oppression engulfing her.

The close-fitting feeling brought her satisfaction and happiness.

"You know he's over six hundred years old and needs someone to take care of him." Furong reached out her soft, jade-like arms and piled her silver hair high into a bun.

"But the professor was a strong man. He didn't want to be taken care of like a useless person, so he invented many alchemical items for everyday use."

"Automatic seeding and planting, harvesting into a cooking carpet."

"A door that can take you anywhere."

"A crystal ball that can see the future."

"A small loudspeaker that gives advance warning."

"A penetrating ring that can penetrate all objects."

"The Holy Grail that grants wishes—of course, it's not very effective."

She tilted her head back, letting the flowing water gently kiss her cheeks.

It's clear that this bathhouse was also the work of alchemists.

Hermione was slightly surprised upon hearing Fleur's account.

So this is what alchemy is like—this is how it's done in everyday life. She had always thought that magical alchemy was mostly about weapons and such.

Then she slowly walked into the water.

Feel the warmth enveloping you.

She involuntarily closed her eyes and murmured, "Hmm—I won't be copying books today."

Let's take a little break!

That's what she thought.

"So cute, just like my little sister," Hibiscus said lazily. "It's a pity she went home for summer vacation and didn't have the chance to meet such a good friend."

"It's not that good!" Hermione replied, blushing slightly.

"The young wizards at Hogwarts are all very friendly, Owen—"

"He has a sharp tongue and a gossipy nature. But he's actually a pretty good person."

"Really?" Fleur asked skeptically, casting a questioning look at Hermione.

Is he a nice person? How come she didn't feel that way?

"As long as you don't go against him, it'll be fine," Hermione replied somewhat awkwardly. She knew about the feud between Owen and Fleur, or rather, between Owen and the entire Beauxbatons.

"He's the most unique person at Hogwarts." Perhaps to salvage Owen's pitiful reputation, Hermione spoke again: "He's unconventional, doing whatever he pleases; he has the talent and ability to do so."

The group number is in the description.

(End of this chapter)