On her way to Diagon Alley, Hermione's mind buzzed.
Theodore's literary fame was unquestionable—she'd never catch up there, and she admitted it. But in other subjects? She'd never heard of any special expertise. Hermione might lose in depth, but she won on breadth. And when it came to magic, maybe—just maybe—her talent outshone Theodore's. She'd also arrived in Diagon Alley days earlier and had already begun practising. That was an edge.
A thought rose: Can I beat him?
She answered herself, crisp and firm: I will.
Miss Know-It-All did not surrender easily.
An hour later, she stepped into Diagon Alley. Before going to the meeting spot, Hermione used a shop window to smooth her hair—and only then realised she hadn't really tamed it before leaving. Too frizzy. Maybe a little conditioner next time…? Her mother's teasing floated back: A nice dress wouldn't hurt either… But those notions were quickly steamrollered by her will to win.
She pushed into the sweets shop beside Flourish and Blotts and found Theodore Ashbourne calmly paging through A History of Magic.
"I love that one too," she said, brimming with confidence as she walked over. "Wizarding history is full of curious bits—you even see echoes of big Muggle events. For example—"
Theodore nodded, perfectly agreeable. "For example: I only learned from A History of Magic that Louis XVI's guillotine was supposedly crafted by an alchemist—an artefact with a 'zero-complaint' record, as it were. And then there's—" He went on, pulling out one engrossing anecdote after another.
Hermione's certainty frayed. "Huh? Those are in—"
Theodore thought a beat. "Some are in Hogwarts: A History, some in A History of Magic, and a few from marginalia in a collected pamphlet series."
Hermione stared. "?"
Theodore's smile turned a shade mischievous.
He couldn't help it: Seven-Apertures Heart was an absolute cheat for learning—photographic recall, instant internalisation, lightning-fast comprehension. Hermione might be Hogwarts' future top scholar, but—unlucky her—she'd picked a fight with someone carrying a learning artefact. She would need… more grinding.
Half an hour later, Hermione's earlier bravado had withered. I was foolish—truly foolish. How did I think I could beat Theodore? She watched him flip through a brand-new volume once—and then, without dropping a syllable, explain it back with clear principles, not rote. Passages that had left her foggy were suddenly transparent after two or three of his off-hand comments. There was no competing with that. This was a cheat code. How do you fight a cheat?
To her credit, Hermione wasn't small-minded. She pivoted immediately, peppering Theodore with questions that had stumped her over the last few days.
Theodore's eyes warmed. This was what made Hermione admirable: tireless initiative, fierce curiosity, and a generous mind. That she would one day become Minister for Magic felt almost inevitable; even without politics, Theodore was certain she'd blaze through academia. He was more than happy to lend her a hand—and see just how far she could go.
Three evenings whisked by.
At the corner, Hermione waved goodbye with practised ease.
"Not hopping in the car?" Theodore asked with a smile. "I can drive you home."
She shook her head, flustered. "No—that'd be too much trouble. And… uh… never mind." A pink tint crept over her cheeks. The past few nights, her mum had worn that knowing smile and asked how "things" were progressing. Each time, Hermione had protested—half shy, half exasperated—that it was not a date; they were studying. If Theodore actually drove her home, what idiotic ideas would adults invent next?
"Thank you, Theodore," she said instead. "I've improved a lot these past few days." She hesitated, then added, "Are you sure you won't visit Mr Ollivander and swap out your… wand?"
After watching Theodore learn, Hermione's admiration was bone-deep. For spells that didn't demand heavy power, he could internalise every casting cue at a glance. Under his guidance, she'd already mastered several charms typically taught after term began. At this pace, she might cover most of first-year work before the train. What pained her was Theodore's own casting. That ancient staff of his was too long and heavy, awkward for modern wand movements. Thanks to his superb control he could still cast—but Hermione was sure that with a more suitable wand, his power would leap.
Theodore only smiled and shook his head.
When the bus pulled away and Hermione vanished from sight, he chuckled quietly. How could she know? For Theodore, "magic" was only icing on the cake. Staff + Copper Skin & Iron Bones + Martial Proficiency—that was his true edge. Fragile little wands couldn't touch it.
Besides, he'd noticed something else: while the ancient staff channelled modern spells reasonably well—often with impressive force—the older the spellform, the better the amplification. His hunch? The staff had been crafted specifically to empower ancient magic. If he could trace those arcane lines, the staff would truly come into its own. And if not? No matter. With Seven-Apertures Heart refining gestures and incantations, fluency with the staff was only a matter of time.
In these few days, he'd made another discovery: his gifts boosted spellwork—and dramatically.
For instance—back home, Theodore lifted the staff and murmured, "Scourgify." A gentle breeze whirled up, sweeping dust from a bookcase. Then he called on Windriding and cast the Scouring Charm again. This time, the gale that roared out was orders of magnitude stronger. In sheer force, this Scourgify could probably scrub a Hungarian Horntail, scales and all.
Light flashed in Theodore's eyes. "If I add Fire-at-Will to the mix, Incendio should surge even more. Wind with fire, fire with wind—Scourgify beside it to scour and surge—what would that look like?"
"Could it taste—even faintly—of the Fire-God Opening the Way?"
He found himself very eager to test it.
Time hurried on. In the blink of an eye, a month had passed.
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