The wheelchair-bound warrior is speedrunning Hogwarts.

After all, Hermione is just a 12-year-old girl.

She reached out her hand to Hermione and asked, "Can you tell me what you're thinking right now?"

Hermione hesitated for a moment, then looked up to meet her gentle gaze. She instinctively looked away, and after a long pause, spoke in a low voice:

"I just don't understand how he in the book could be so powerful, brave, and intelligent, solving so many problems that even seasoned Aurors struggle with."

But why...why is he like that in class? He can't even handle a group of little elves!

She looked at Vera, her brown eyes filled with a longing for answers. "Were all those books fake?"

Her voice carried an undisguised sense of loss and confusion, a vulnerability born from the erosion of her beliefs.

Vera looked at her teary eyes with emotion, took her hand directly, and tried to pass on all her warmth to her.

“Hermione,” she said, carefully choosing her words, “words have a powerful ability to construct compelling worlds and create dazzling heroes.”

However, the image depicted in the text is not always entirely the same as the person who wrote it.

She paused, then continued, "Appreciating a wonderful story and trusting the author's character and ability are two different things."

His books may be interesting, but that doesn't directly prove that he himself possesses the same strength and noble character as the protagonists in his books…especially after we've witnessed certain things firsthand.

Hermione remained silent, her slender fingers unconsciously curling up to grip Vera's hand.

She was clearly still processing those words, a tug-of-war between reason and emotion.

“So…you think what he wrote in his book…” Hermione’s voice was even lower, almost a whisper.

Although she didn't admit it directly, her expression showed that she no longer trusted Lockhart.

“I don’t know the real source of those stories,” Vera chose a relatively objective statement, “but at least we need to learn to distinguish between literary creation and reality.”

We can enjoy the stories he tells, but we should also maintain independent judgment and evaluate his performance as a professor based on what we have seen and felt firsthand, shouldn't we?

Instead of directly concluding that Lockhart was a fraud, she guided Hermione to observe and think for herself.

Hermione looked up, her brown eyes still showing confusion, but the previous bewilderment had dissipated considerably, replaced by clear and thoughtful reflection.

She nodded vigorously: "You're right! I can't ignore the facts just because I like those stories... I'll continue to observe!"

Even so, Hermione couldn't help but sigh, "I'm just... still a little disappointed."

Her voice was low, with a barely perceptible sob.

“I understand,” Vera said softly. “It’s never pleasant to have your expectations dashed. But that’s okay. Seeing the truth is not an easy thing in itself.”

You are better at learning and discerning than most of us; at this time, trust your own eyes and mind.

Hermione took a deep breath, as if a heavy burden had been lifted. She turned to look at Vera and suddenly smiled, "There's one thing you're wrong about."

"Huh?" Vera blinked, somewhat confused.

Immediately afterwards, Hermione suddenly leaned in and gently kissed her on the cheek.

The gentle, feather-like touch stunned Vera, causing her to catch her breath for a moment.

In the flickering firelight of the fireplace, the tips of her ears turned a thin layer of red at a visible speed.

Hermione quickly stepped back, her cheeks flushed, but her eyes sparkled with a mischievous ease mixed with shyness and relief.

“This is the real birthday present.” Hermione quickly stepped back, her cheeks flushed and her eyes sparkling with mischief. “It may be simple, but it carries a lot of sentiment, as you said yourself.”

Vera was stunned. The gentle, brief touch on her cheek seemed to carry warmth, leaving her momentarily speechless.

She saw Hermione's rare, slightly smug smile, then suddenly stood up and said, "Also, you're wrong. Besides myself, you and Harley are also trustworthy."

After saying that, she stood up and walked briskly out of the dormitory without waiting for Vera's reaction.

Vera was left alone, staring blankly at the fireplace. Her fingertips unconsciously touched the spot where she had just been kissed, rubbing them together as if she could still feel the warmth and gentleness of that moment.

The firelight from the fireplace danced in her eyes, reflecting a complex and difficult-to-determine emotion.

She looked down at her fingertips, then simply shook her head, a faint, helpless smile playing on her lips.

It's just childish affection; there's nothing to make a fuss about.

……

Over the next few days, life at Hogwarts gradually returned to normal.

Apart from Lockhart's disastrous Defense Against the Dark Arts class, the other classes were generally normal.

In Charms class, Professor Flitwick began to teach them more complex spells; in Astronomy class, they began to draw more detailed star charts; even in Snape's Potions class, although the atmosphere was still oppressive, at least they could learn something real.

Hermione has broken free of the illusion and returned to her former self, but Harley has encountered a little trouble.

It might not be so much a hassle as it is, but it does leave one feeling somewhat helpless.

"How are you, Harry?"

I don't know how many times I've heard this question today, even Vera, as an observer, almost thought that time had reversed again.

Not to mention Harley herself, who turned around somewhat stiffly, forcing a polite but slightly awkward smile: "Hello, Colin."

Colin Crevey, the freshman, stood excitedly in the middle of the hallway, clutching his old Muggle camera tightly, his eyes shining so brightly they seemed to burn holes in Harley.

"I...I just took a picture of you walking out of the Potions classroom!"

Colin was so excited he was almost incoherent. He raised his camera and exclaimed, "The light is streaming in through the window and falling on your hair—Merlin, you look like a painting! Can I take another picture? Just one!"

Harley instinctively took a half step back, her back almost bumping into Vera's wheelchair.

She glanced at Vera pleadingly, her green eyes screaming, "Help me!"

Vera coughed lightly, her tone firm and unwavering: "Mr. Crevy, we're on our way to the library. Professor McGonagall's paper is due tomorrow."

Colin's excitement was instantly replaced by disappointment, but he quickly rallied: "Then, then I'll do it later..."

“I’m afraid that won’t work,” Vera interrupted him, maneuvering her wheelchair slightly forward to subtly shield Harley behind her. “Harley still needs Quidditch practice tonight.”

Colin was a little disappointed, but finally stepped aside: "Okay... well, we'll talk about it next time! Goodbye, Harley! Goodbye, Senior Black!"

He walked away, camera in hand, turning back every few steps.

Harley let out a long sigh of relief and quickened her pace, pushing Vera's wheelchair as if a giant was chasing after her.

“Merlin’s beard,” she complained softly, her voice tinged with weariness, “where does he even come from? This is the fourth time this week! Every time he shows up, he’s holding that camera…”

“Celebrity effect, Halle,” Vera’s voice held a hint of barely perceptible amusement. “‘The girl who survived’ always attracts attention.”

“But I’d rather nobody pay attention to me,” Harley muttered, “especially not with his… enthusiastic way. I always feel like his camera lens is going to be shoved in my face any second now.”

Vera looked at the library so close by and suddenly said, "If that's the case, why not refuse?"

Harley was taken aback.

“You can just tell him you don’t like being photographed so frequently,” Vera said calmly. “You have the right to set boundaries, Harley. A polite but firm refusal isn’t a bad thing.”

Harley hesitated for a moment, a hint of doubt flashing in her eyes: "But he didn't seem to mean any harm, he was just too excited. And, wouldn't it seem... unfriendly to just refuse him outright?"

He could be incredibly harsh on the Malfoys, but he couldn't bring himself to be so harsh on those who genuinely liked him.

“Your feelings are just as important.” Vera turned her head, her dark eyes looking at her earnestly. “True friendship is mutual respect. If he truly admires you, he should learn to respect your wishes.”

She paused, then added, "Next time he makes a request that makes you uncomfortable, try telling him directly. I can be there if needed."

Harley nodded thoughtfully, seemingly feeling a little relieved.

She pushed Vera into the quiet atmosphere of the library, lowering her voice: "Okay... I'll give it a try."

The library was filled with the distinctive scent of old scrolls and parchment, and the peaceful atmosphere quickly soothed the frustration caused by the earlier incident.

When they found Hermione, she was engrossed in doing her homework behind a tall pile of books. When she saw them coming, she moved aside.

“I always seem to need you to solve my problems,” Harley said softly, sitting down next to Vera and opening her Transfiguration thesis.

Vera simply shook her head. "It's just helping each other out."

Harley neither confirmed nor denied it, but simply picked up her homework and started scratching her head.

After a brief chat, only the soft scratching of a quill pen across parchment and the occasional faint footsteps echoing from between the bookshelves in the distance remained.

Harley tried to focus on her paper, but her thoughts kept drifting to the silver-haired girl beside her.

Vera was engrossed in reading the incredibly thick book, her fingertips occasionally tracing the complex magical diagrams, her eyes focused and bright.

She became somewhat engrossed in watching again.

Fortunately, there was a lot of homework today, so after looking at it for a while, she realized what was going on and started writing her homework again.

And just like that, the weekend arrived.

Harley wanted to sleep a little longer, but she was woken up early by Oliver Woodtor, the captain of the Gryffindor Quidditch team.

Wood was a fanatical Quidditch madman.

After spending the past year together, Harley looked out the window at the sky, which was still not fully bright, and complained inwardly.

Do you want us to come with you?

Fortunately, Vera had gotten up a little earlier than her, and now she asked her even more considerately.

“No need,” Harley yawned and rubbed her sleepy eyes. “Wood is definitely going to go on about his tactics again, and who knows how long he’ll go on. You guys should get some more sleep.”

As she spoke, she quickly changed into her Quidditch team uniform, grabbed her Nimbus 2000, and said, "Please save me some breakfast. I hope I'll still have the energy to eat after training."

Watching Harley rush out the door, Hermione sat up in bed, looking worried, and asked, "Is it really okay to discipline her like that?"

“After all, this is what she loves,” Vera said softly, her gaze falling out the window, as if she could imagine Harley chasing the Golden Snitch in the chilly morning wind.

Despite saying that, Vera still honestly put on her robe and said, "I have nothing to do today, so let's go to the stadium after breakfast."

Actually, she was just a little worried that if Harley skipped breakfast to train, she might experience low blood sugar.

Hermione nodded knowingly, not exposing her little scheme, and quickly stood up, saying, "Okay, I'll go with you."

They ate something in the Great Hall, brought breakfast for Harley, and then headed toward the Quidditch pitch.

The morning air was chilly, and when they arrived at the stadium, it was deserted.

"They're probably still in the locker room discussing tactics," Hermione thought, already used to it.

They waited in the stands for a while before they saw the Gryffindor Quidditch team members enter the stadium one by one, each carrying a broom.

"Harley!" Hermione's eyes lit up, and she immediately waved to Harley, who was not far away.

Vera followed a little further forward, but when she saw a group of people in green robes walking onto the field right behind the Gryffindors, she couldn't help but frown.

"Something seems to be wrong," she said softly, her gaze falling on the uninvited guests, her eyes narrowing slightly. "Let's go down and take a look."

By the time they arrived from the stands, the atmosphere between the two sides was already tense.

Vera understood everything, especially when she saw Malfoy emerge from behind the six tall Slytherin members, each wielding a Nimbus 2001.

This scene also appears in the original book, where Malfoy becomes Slytherin's Chaser by paying money, and even clashes with the Big Three.

"Oh, look! Someone's wandered onto the pitch!" Slytherin captain Flint exclaimed eagerly upon seeing someone approaching.

But when he saw that the people who came were Hermione and Vera, his expression immediately changed, and he looked as uncomfortable as if he had swallowed a fly.

Not only him, but all the other team members behind him, except for Malfoy, all had constipated expressions.

Vera slowly maneuvered her wheelchair past them, her gaze casually sweeping over them, sending a shiver down the spines of all the Slytherins.

Very well, it seems these people haven't forgotten the lesson she learned last year when she beat them all up.

A silent smile played on Vera's lips as she walked straight to Harley and asked, "What happened?"

A smug smile graced Malfoy's pale face as he deliberately held up his brand-new Nimbus 2001.

“Good morning, Blake. Want to see a real professional broom? Oh, I forgot, you probably won’t need this.” His gaze swept meaningfully over Vera’s wheelchair.

Harley's face instantly turned red with anger. She clenched her fists, stepped forward, and snapped, "Shut your stinking mouth, Malfoy! And besides, this is the stadium we reserved!"

“Really?” Malfoy shrugged, feigning surprise, and pulled out a slip of paper. “But I have a note specially signed by Professor Snape—”

I, Professor West Snape, grant permission for the Slytherin team to practice at the Quidditch pitch today to train their new Seeker.

As he spoke, he puffed out his chest proudly, trying to show off his status.

However, to his dismay, the Slytherins who had previously treated him with utmost respect and obeyed his every command suddenly fell silent, as if they had conspired together.

"Captain?" Malfoy turned around, somewhat annoyed, and focused his attention on Flint, "You agree, right?"

Upon seeing Vera and Hermione appear, Flint even subconsciously took a half step back. The memory of being taught a lesson by this seemingly weak silver-haired girl with various spells last year instantly came back, making his throat a little dry.

With a brand new broom in hand, and this time in front of his old rival Wood, Flint forced himself to hold up the note, trying to intimidate Wood with the professor's name.