At Hogwarts, the story begins with deconstructing Avada Kedavra.

The next day in the common room

The fire in the fireplace was burning brightly, illuminating the excited faces. The atmosphere, which had been somber due to the points deduction, was miraculously reversed by the butterbeer foam that Fred and George had smuggled in.

"It's a pity you couldn't capture that moment in a photo and put it in a frame."

Ron slumped on the sofa, clutching a roasted chicken leg he'd somehow acquired. He took a bite, grease dripping from his chin. He gestured excitedly, his words mumbled, "Malfoy's expression... Merlin's beard... it was like a toad that'd unfortunately swallowed a whole bottle of shrinking potion, its whole face scrunched up."

"Wow!" The surrounding younger students exclaimed in delight.

Harry sat in an armchair, holding a glass of warm pumpkin juice, a smile he couldn't suppress. Even though his arm was still bandaged, and even though Professor McGonagall's roar still echoed in his ears, at this moment, the feeling of being surrounded made it all worthwhile.

"It's nothing," Harry said, scratching his messy hair a little embarrassedly, but he was actually quite pleased with himself. "If it weren't for Snape's bias, I could have made Malfoy swallow that swear word."

"That's right!" Seamus echoed loudly. "One hundred and sixty points? To hell with the House Cup! As long as those Slytherin's venomous tongues can taste blood, I'd gladly empty the hourglass of gems shard ...

"That's it! This is Gryffindor!"

"Weasley is our king!" Fred and George wore mischievous grins, as if they wanted to stir up trouble.

"Even if it misses!" George added.

"That's a deterrent, George, that's a deterrent."

The twins led the way in raising their glasses, and even the freshmen who hadn't yet learned many spells were flushed with excitement.

Inside that warm bubble of red and gold, Harry felt like a true hero. He had protected his friends, he had fought off the bullies, he had done the right thing. And that pointless hourglass of fractions? Even if all the gems at the bottom fell away, they couldn't measure the weight of this justice.

However, Hermione, tucked away in the corner, seemed completely out of place amidst the commotion.

Hermione sat behind a pile of open textbooks, the quill pen in her hand untouched for a long time.

Her usually vibrant eyes were now fixed on the book, her gaze vacant, as if she hadn't absorbed anything.

"Hey, Hermione!" Ron finally noticed her and excitedly called out, "Don't look so gloomy! Malfoy deserved it! Even if he gets points deducted or put in solitary confinement, I'd be thrilled! Don't you think?"

Harry turned to look at her expectantly. He hoped Hermione would break free from the rigidity of being a good student, even just once, and acknowledge that they had done a good job.

Hermione slowly raised her head.

Hermione's eyes held no approval, not even blame, only silence and a deep-seated weariness.

"...Yeah. It was awesome."

Hermione repeated softly, forcing a very forced smile, "Anyway, grades are just numbers, right? Things earned through hard work certainly don't feel as good as punching someone."

Ron paused for a moment, seemingly oblivious to the sarcasm, then laughed heartily: "See! I knew you thought the same thing! That guy deserved it!"

Hermione looked at her two friends who showed no remorse and were even smug.

Suddenly, Lucian's words, "Lions are social animals and solve problems by roaring," echoed in her mind.

A sense of powerlessness overwhelmed her like a tidal wave.

"I...I'm not feeling well."

Hermione slammed the book shut, shoved the pile of parchment haphazardly into her bag, her movements so abrupt they were almost out of control. "I'm going to bed now."

"Huh? What time is it?" Harry asked in surprise.

But Hermione didn't answer. With her heavy backpack on her back and her head down, she hurried through the cheering crowd and into the girls' dormitory corridor.

The door slammed shut behind her, shutting out all the noise.

"What's wrong with her?" Harry was a little stunned, and the heroic spirit he had felt earlier suddenly cooled down a bit.

"Ignore her, buddy." Ron nonchalantly took a bite of his chicken leg. "Once she calms down in a couple of days and realizes we were just trying to get revenge for her, she'll be grateful. She'll understand that if we don't teach Malfoys a lesson, anyone can run Gryffindors around. Some people just don't get it; sometimes you have to earn respect with your fists."

Harry nodded, suppressing the slight unease in his heart.

Yes, it's just about grades. Hermione takes the rules too seriously; she'll always understand that some things are more important than the rules.

……

The second day of classes was spent in a strange atmosphere for Harry.

Hermione still sat between him and Ron, still correcting their hair during every spell practice, and still keeping her notes neat and tidy.

But Harry felt something was off.

In Charms class, Professor Flitwick seemed somewhat indifferent because of what happened yesterday, and didn't award Hermione any points for her perfect Levitation Charm. In the past, Hermione would have definitely raised her hand high to try and impress, and would have persisted even if the professor ignored her.

But today, she simply put down her wand silently and stared blankly at the patterns on the table.

At lunch, Harry tried to lighten the mood by telling a joke about Filch. Ron laughed so hard he spat out pumpkin juice, and Hermione laughed too.

But there was no smile in his eyes.

"Are you really alright, Hermione?" Harry couldn't help but ask. "You seem... a little distracted."

"I'm fine, Harry."

Hermione maintained her smile.

"I'm just thinking about the structure of the second paragraph of my paper on Transfiguration. You know, it's difficult."

"Oh, that's good." Harry breathed a sigh of relief. It really was about academics; this was the Hermione he knew.

He didn't notice that Hermione's hand under the table was tightly gripping the cold gold coin, her knuckles turning white from the force.

He also failed to notice the look of despair and alienation in Hermione's eyes when he turned back to continue discussing Quidditch tactics with Ron.

He was blinded by the self-satisfaction of believing he was acting in the name of justice, completely unaware that in this seemingly ordinary daytime, the girl who always followed him around nagging was actually drifting away from him.

……

As evening fell, the castle's shadows lengthened.

While the others were preparing to enjoy dinner, Harry had to leave the warm hall and head towards the basement.

It wasn't until he stepped into that familiar, cold, and damp corridor that Harry's initial enthusiasm gradually cooled. In its place came a chill that seeped into his very bones.

Snape's office door was ajar.

Harry pushed open the door and immediately smelled a nauseating stench of decay.

The animal specimens on the shelves, preserved in formalin, cast distorted shadows in the dim candlelight.

"Come in, Potter."

Snape's voice was laced with slickness and disgust. "If you've had enough of that cheap hero worship in the Gryffindor common room."

Harry gritted his teeth and closed the door: "I just did what I thought was right."

Snape looked up from a pile of parchment covered in red crosses.

“‘The right thing,’” Snape repeated the words. “How touching. Just like your arrogant father, always thinking he was the embodiment of justice.”

"Don't talk about my father!" Harry retorted.

"Because of your stupidity, Gryffindor has lost its chance to compete for the House Cup; because of your recklessness, my students have suffered unnecessary fright and harm."

Snape stood up and went to a huge wooden barrel.

The stench of decay grew even stronger.

"Tonight's task is simple, Potter." Snape pointed to the barrel. "There are the entrails of five thousand horned toads in here. I need you to pick out the rotten parts mixed in. No magic, and no gloves."

Harry looked at the bucket of sticky, green stuff and felt a wave of nausea wash over him.

"Let's begin," Snape said, sitting back down at his desk. "This might clear your mind, which is filled with heroism. It will make you understand that every time you swing your wand, there is a price to pay."