Harry Potter: The Golden Viper

0481 Personal Affairs (Large Chapter)

The late afternoon sun cast long shadows across the grounds of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry as Hermione, her bushy brown hair even more disheveled than usual, rushed from her elective class towards the sprawling playground as she was late for her daily physical education training.

As she approached the training area, she caught sight of Harry and Neville heading in the opposite direction, their robes clinging to their sweat-drenched bodies. Harry's untidy black hair was plastered to his forehead, nearly obscuring his lightning bolt scar, while Neville's round face was flushed a deep crimson from exertion. They exchanged quick nods with Hermione as they passed, their footsteps echoing on the stone path as they made their way back to Gryffindor Tower.

"We'll see you in the common room later, Hermione!" Harry called over his shoulder, his voice slightly hoarse from the workout. "We're going to tackle Professor Watson's Wednesday assignment after we clean up."

Hermione waved in acknowledgment, a twinge of regret flashing across her face as she realized she'd have to miss out on their study session. She quickened her pace, determined to complete her training as efficiently as possible.

An hour later, muscles aching and lungs burning, Hermione stumbled into the Great Hall. The enchanted ceiling above reflected the darkening sky outside, streaked with brilliant oranges and purples as the sun dipped below the horizon. The air was thick with the aroma of roasted meats, freshly baked bread, and sweet desserts, making Hermione's stomach growl loudly.

Settling onto the bench, Hermione piled her plate high with roast chicken, steamed vegetables, and a generous helping of mashed potatoes. She ate with uncharacteristic speed, barely tasting the delicious food as she shoveled it into her mouth. Her mind was already racing ahead to the library, where she planned to delve into the topic Professor Watson had mentioned in today's Defense Against the Dark Arts class – the ancient art of resisting mental magic.

As she ate, Hermione couldn't help but notice the cheerful chatter and laughter filling the Great Hall. Small groups of students huddled together at their house tables, sharing jokes and stories from their day. The staircases visible through the open doors were alive with movement, young wizards and witches darting up and down, their faces alight with smiles and jollity.

The sight, which would normally have filled Hermione with warmth, instead stirred a melancholy feeling in her chest. She found herself remembering their first year at Hogwarts, when she, Harry, and Ron had been inseparable. They had the same classes, so they could go to lessons together, eat together, and return to the common room to complete their homework together.

Now, in their third year, things had changed dramatically.

Their schedules had diverged, with Hermione taking on additional electives that neither Harry nor Ron had chosen. The coursework had become more demanding, requiring Hermione to spend increasing amounts of time in the library, poring over ancient tomes and complicated magical theories. Even during their shared classes, there was little opportunity for casual conversation or shared laughter. Only during lunch, dinner, and before lights out did they have some time to discuss the day's events in the Great Hall and the common room.

Harry and Ron didn't feel this change too deeply, which wasn't surprising given their typically oblivious nature. But for Hermione, each day brought a growing awareness of the distance between them. She had even started to contemplate the poignant scenario of them going their separate ways after graduating from Hogwarts.

Pushing these gloomy thoughts aside, Hermione finished her meal and gathered her belongings. She made her way out of the Great Hall, her footsteps echoing in the cavernous space. The corridors were quieter now, most students having gone to their common rooms or the library to work on assignments.

As she approached the library, Hermione's pace quickened with anticipation.

In the first week of school, the coursework wasn't too heavy, so there weren't many students in the library. Most of those present were upper-year Ravenclaws, which wasn't surprising as their house consistently maintained the highest average grades at Hogwarts.

The familiar scent of old parchment and leather-bound books wafted through the air, a comforting aroma that never failed to lift her spirits. She pushed open the heavy wooden doors, expecting to find the usual scene of studious silence.

Instead, she was greeted by an unusual commotion. To her great surprise, Professor Watson was standing near the entrance, looking mortified. Looming over him was Madam Pince, the stern librarian, her face contorted with barely contained fury.

Hogwarts' librarian, Madam Pince, was a witch who resembled a gaunt vulture and was extremely strict. If you made noise in the library or damaged her beloved books, regardless of who you were, you were sure to receive a scolding.

"This is a library, Bryan!" Madam Pince hissed, her yellowish eyes narrowed to slits as she glared at the professor. She didn't seem to care if Bryan Watson was the most powerful wizard of the age; she berated him without mercy, "Not Madam Puddifoot's Tea Shop! If you wish to engage in romantic pursuits, I must insist you do so elsewhere!"

Professor Watson looked uncharacteristically flustered. His cheeks were tinged with pink, and he seemed to be struggling to find the right words to placate the enraged librarian.

"I'm very sorry, Madam Pince," he managed to stammer out with an awkward smile. "It won't happen again, I assure you."

Hermione froze in her tracks, her eyes widening in disbelief. She had come to the library with the intention of asking Professor Watson about the mental magic he had mentioned in class, but now she found herself rooted to the spot, unable to process the scene before her.

"What's going on?!" she whispered to herself, her voice barely audible. In the next instant, her feet seemed to move of their own accord, carrying her swiftly to a nearby table where a familiar face was watching the spectacle unfold.

"Professor Watson was engaging in romantic pursuits! With whom, in the library!" Hermione was so surprised she could barely catch her breath, even wondering if she had misheard.

Angelina Johnson, a striking dark-skinned girl from Gryffindor and one of the team's star Chasers, was leaning back in her chair, a look of amused fascination on her face. With the cancellation of this year's Quidditch matches due to the Triwizard Tournament, Angelina had been spending more time in the library, catching up on the lessons she had missed due to training.

"Oh, it's you, Hermione," Angelina said, noticing Hermione approaching her. A mischievous grin spread across her face as she leaned in conspiratorially. "You've missed quite a show!"

Hermione's curiosity got the better of her propriety. She pushed her unruly hair out of her eyes and leaned closer to Angelina, her voice eager despite her efforts to remain composed. "Oh, don't keep me in suspense, Angelina. What happened?"

Angelina's eyes danced with hilarity as she recounted the events. "Well, Professor Watson came in to borrow some books, minding his own business, you know?" She paused for dramatic effect, barely containing her laughter. "Then, out of nowhere, these two seventh-year Ravenclaw witches ambushed him!"

"Ambushed him?" Hermione echoed, her brow furrowing in confusion.

Angelina nodded vigorously. "They ran up to him, giggling like first-years, and tried to give him love letters!" She covered her mouth, shoulders shaking with suppressed laughter. "But that's not even the best part. They wanted his autograph too!"

Hermione felt a mix of emotions – disbelief, secondhand embarrassment, and a touch of indignation. "Surely Professor Watson wouldn't encourage such behavior," she said, her tone disapproving. "And in the library of all places!"

"Oh, it gets better," Angelina continued, her voice dropping to a whisper. She leaned in even closer, her eyes darting around to ensure no one else was listening. "Those Ravenclaw girls, they pulled out lipstick from their bags and asked him to sign their shirts with it!"

Angelina pointed to a spot on her own shirt that made Hermione's cheeks flush scarlet. The older girl dissolved into another fit of giggles. "You should have seen Professor Watson's face! I swear, I'll remember that look till the day I die!"

Hermione didn't share Angelina's amusement. She felt a surge of righteous anger on Professor Watson's behalf. "That's completely inappropriate!" she hissed, her eyes flashing. "How could they be so... so shameless? And they're supposed to be Ravenclaws! Utterly brainless behavior, if you ask me."

As they spoke, Professor Watson seemed to have finally placated Madam Pince. The librarian retreated to her desk, still muttering under her breath, while Bryan gathered a stack of ancient-looking books. He tucked them under his arm, his face a mixture of relief and lingering embarrassment as he wiped a bead of sweat from his brow.

Having been through his own youthful days, he knew very well that the two young Ravenclaw witches were just stirring up trouble, but he truly hadn't expected them to be so bold, which left him quite embarrassed. After spending too much time in his office, he had initially planned to while away the time before bed in the library, but looking at the teasing glances around him, he no longer had the face to stay.

Hermione watched as the professor cast a longing glance at the quiet corners of the library, clearly weighing whether to stay and work or make a hasty retreat. The decision was made for him as he seemed to have caught sight of the teasing glances being thrown his way by the handful of students present. With a resigned sigh, he turned on his heel and strode towards the exit.

Just as he was about to step through the library doors, Angelina suddenly sprang to her feet. "Wait, Professor Watson!" she called out, her voice carrying easily in the hushed atmosphere of the library.

Hermione stared at her in shock, momentarily wondering if Angelina had lost her mind. Was she planning to tease the professor further? Or worse, was she about to confess her own feelings?

Noticing Hermione's alarmed expression, Angelina quickly explained in a low voice, "How often do you get to see something this amusing, Hermione? Let's go tease him a bit – all in good fun, of course!"

Before Hermione could protest, Angelina grabbed her arm and pulled her towards the library exit. They intercepted Professor Watson just outside the doors, narrowly avoiding Madam Pince's wrath for the commotion.

Hermione felt her face burning with embarrassment as Professor Watson turned to face them. His expression was a mixture of wariness and resignation, as if he were bracing himself for another awkward encounter.

"Is there something you need?" Bryan asked, his eyebrows raised questioningly. His gaze flickered between Hermione, who looked as if she wanted the floor to open up and swallow her whole, and Angelina, who was struggling to maintain a straight face.

Bryan had been teaching at Hogwarts for nearly two years now, and in that time, the students had come to understand his nature quite well. Outside of formal class time, when he wasn't focused on serious instruction, he was generally affable and willing to engage in light-hearted banter with his students. He rarely lost his temper, a quality that made him appealing to many of the young wizards and witches.

Emboldened by this knowledge, Angelina pressed forward with her teasing. "Why did you refuse those girls just now, Professor Watson?" she asked, her tone deliberately casual. "As far as I know, you don't have a girlfriend, do you?"

Hermione felt her stomach drop at Angelina's boldness. Even though Professor Watson was known for his approachability, this line of questioning seemed to be pushing the boundaries of propriety. She nervously bit her lip, half-expecting Professor Watson to reprimand them. But Angelina, undeterred, continued her playful interrogation.

"Those two Ravenclaw girls we just saw were quite pretty, weren't they? They're quite popular in their house, you know. Since you don't have a girlfriend, why don't you give it a try?"

Bryan's expression darkened slightly, though there was still a hint of amusement in his eyes. "I am a professor, Miss Johnson," he said, his voice taking on a more serious tone. "Are you trying to ruin my reputation?"

"Oh, I don't think it's such a big deal," Angelina replied, her words as bold and direct as her playing style on the Quidditch pitch. Since Professor Watson hadn't immediately flown into a rage or scolded them harshly, it seemed he wasn't particularly opposed to discussing this topic with them. Reassured, Angelina tilted her head back and asked with a grin,

"Shouldn't love disregard status and position? Besides, they're of age. They know what they're doing and can take responsibility for their actions."

The word 'love' seemed to hang in the air between them. Bryan's mouth twitched slightly; this was probably the first time he had ever discussed such a personal topic with his students.

"You're not wrong, Miss Johnson," Bryan looking helpless said after a moment, his tone a mixture of resignation and amusement. "Status and position shouldn't be obstacles to love, but..." He paused, seeming to choose his words carefully. "Don't I have the right to choose as well? To put it bluntly, if I had to accept every girl who spent a few minutes writing me a love letter as my girlfriend, I'm afraid I wouldn't be able to accomplish anything else for the rest of my life."

It was an obvious point, and anyone would know that Angelina was just asking for fun, but she persisted, her curiosity getting the better of her. "Then what kind of girl would you choose as a girlfriend?" she asked, her eyes sparkling with interest.

Angelina leaned in, as if she were about to share a secret. "You're the most excellent wizard I've ever met, Professor. Perhaps you don't know, but many of the senior-year witches are speculating about what kind of girl you like!"

Throughout this exchange, Hermione had kept her head down, not daring to meet Professor Watson's eyes. The topic of conversation felt incredibly awkward and inappropriate to her. But at Angelina's last question, she couldn't help but prick up her ears. Despite her embarrassment, she had to admit it was an intriguing question.

"What kind of girl I like--"

Bryan seemed to have loosened up a bit. He gazed at the flickering flames of the torch hanging on the wall, momentarily lost in thought.

What kind of girl did he like?

To be honest, it had been quite some time since he had considered such a question. Since leaving Grandma Ferrena and his Muggle orphanage to enter the Wizarding world, during his years at Hogwarts, he had always been cautious, devoting all his energy to improving his magical skills.

In the two years after graduation, he was eager to see the wider Wizarding world and improve the living condition for those children in the orphanage. And by the time his abilities had reached a certain level, he was maneuvered back to Hogwarts by Dumbledore. After that, one thing after another had kept him busy, and he still had to think about some changes for the future.

Come to think of it, he had hardly ever considered this question.

Bryan, inadvertently touched by these thoughts, was lost in reverie for a moment. He wasn't sure how long he had been dazed, but when he came to his senses, even Hermione, who had been shy about discussing this topic, had raised her head and was looking at him in surprise.

Looking at the two young witches who were still a head shorter than him, Bryan chuckled,

"I'm afraid there isn't a clear standard, At least, not one I've given much thought to."

"No standard?" Angelina pressed, sounding puzzled. "But there must be something, right? I mean, most boys in school like pretty, cute girls--"

Pretty, cute—

At these words, Hermione felt a small twinge in her chest. She pursed her lips, trying to hide the hint of hurt that flashed across her face. Pretty and cute were not words often used to describe her, with her bushy hair and prominent front teeth.

"Ah, of course, nobody dislikes pretty and cute girls," Bryan said candidly, "But that's just the nature of males, probably unrelated to love. If it were me, I might place more importance on a lady who could resonate with my soul."

"Resonate with your soul?" Angelina echoed, her brow furrowed in confusion.

"Well... having common topics, common pursuits, that's the most basic thing, Miss Johnson," Bryan explained, his tone becoming more animated as he warmed to the subject. "You know, love itself is a very wonderful thing, quite irrational. No language can describe it accurately, there's no standard to measure it— "

Bryan smiled, "In short, my idea is quality over quantity. Finding a lady who can resonate with your soul requires luck, and before that, I'd rather devote all my energy to improving my magical abilities. I won't look for a partner with the idea that a person must have a companion... that's just a waste of time and energy. Life is too short, and magic too vast, to spend it chasing after a relationship for the sake of having one."

As he spoke, it was as if an invisible bolt of lightning had struck Hermione. She stood motionless, her eyes wide, staring at Professor Watson with an expression of dawning understanding. In an instant, countless thoughts surged through her mind, filling her heart with a whirlwind of emotions.

Professor Watson's view was indeed very reasonable, wasn't it?

The idea of seeking a partner who could truly understand and share in one's passions, rather than settling for superficial attraction, resonated deeply with her. She found herself nodding along with Angelina, both girls momentarily lost in thought.

Bryan, noticing the contemplative silence that had fallen over the corridor, brushed off some dust that had settled on his robe from his earlier visit into the Restricted Section. "Alright," he said, his tone lightening, "I think this topic has run its course. Ladies, I haven't had dinner yet, so I need to go get myself something to eat. You can go about your own business--"

With a polite nod, he turned to leave. Angelina, seemingly satisfied with the unexpected insights she had gained, turned back towards the library. She, too, was a student in Professor Watson's Physical Education class and needed to find some materials to improve on the coursework left from last night's PE session.

But Hermione remained rooted to the spot, her mind still racing with the implications of Professor Watson's words. She had taken barely two steps even after Angelina had disappeared into the library, her inner turmoil evident in her furrowed brow and nervous fidgeting.

Hermione was still hesitating about whether to voice her question, but Bryan had already noticed that she probably had something she wanted to discuss with him privately, so he simply stopped her.

"Is there something else you want to discuss?"

Caught off guard, Hermione hesitated, her inner debate intensifying. She opened her mouth to speak, then closed it again, uncertainty written across her face. However, Professor Watson's calm, patient gaze gave her courage. She took a deep breath, squaring her shoulders, and nodded.

"Hmm—" Bryan grunted noncommittally, his eyes scrutinizing Hermione's face. He knew the young witch well enough to recognize that whatever was on her mind, it wasn't a continuation of their previous conversation about 'love'. This was something important, something that probably required privacy.

He glanced around the corridor, noting the portraits that were pretending not to eavesdrop and the suits of armor that seemed to be leaning just a bit too far forward. With a slight gesture of his hand, he beckoned Hermione to follow him.

They walked in silence, their footsteps echoing off the stone walls. Bryan led them down a less-traveled path, away from the main thoroughfares of the castle. The air grew cooler, carrying the musty scent of disuse and age. Hermione shivered slightly, whether from the chill or from nerves, she couldn't quite tell.

The corridor they entered was dimly lit, with only a few sputtering torches casting flickering shadows on the walls. Ancient tapestries, their colors faded with time, hung between stern-faced statues of long-forgotten wizards. In the gloom, these stone figures seemed to watch their passage with hollow, judging eyes.

Hermione found herself drawing closer to Professor Watson, her eyes darting nervously from statue to statue. She had explored much of the castle in her three years at Hogwarts, often in the company of Harry and Ron, but this particular corridor was unfamiliar to her.

Finally, Bryan came to a halt in a patch of moonlight streaming through a high, narrow window. The silvery glow softened the harsh shadows, creating a small island of visibility in the murky corridor. He turned to face Hermione, his expression open and encouraging.

"What is it, Hermione?" Bryan asked gently, trying to put her at ease.

Hermione swallowed hard, her hands fidgeting with the strap of her book bag. "Um, there's something—" she began, her voice barely above a whisper. She cleared her throat and tried again. "You mentioned in Professor Moody's class today that there's a kind of magic that can resist mental spell attacks and has a defensive effect against Unforgivable Curses, but you forgot to say—"

"Oh!" Bryan interrupted, slapping his forehead in a gesture of self-reproach. His tone was apologetic as he continued, "I'm sorry, I did forget about that, but—" He paused mid-sentence, his gaze sharpening as he studied Hermione's face. A knowing smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. "But I think you didn't seek me out just for this, did you? It's alright, Hermione. Tell me the truth, what do you really want to ask?"

Hermione's eyes widened in surprise. She didn't think her poor excuse could fool Professor Watson, but she hadn't expected him to see through it so directly. For a moment, she didn't know how to begin. Fortunately, Professor Watson was very patient. He didn't rush her, just waited patiently.

"I'm sorry, Professor, I actually—" Hermione began, her voice trembling slightly. She clutched her bag tightly, as if it could anchor her in this moment of vulnerability. Her gaze dropped to the floor, unable to meet Professor Watson's eyes as she continued in an almost inaudible whisper, "Actually, I wanted to ask if there's any way... if you would be willing to accept those young witches and wizards who had previously given up on Physical Education class... I mean, to give them another chance."

The words hung in the air between them, seeming to echo in the stillness of the corridor. Hermione's face burned with embarrassment, and she found herself wishing she could disappear into the shadows that surrounded them. She lowered her head further, her chin nearly touching her chest as she awaited Professor Watson's response.

The silence stretched on, broken only by the distant hooting of an owl and the soft crackle of the torches. Hermione's heart pounded in her ears, each second feeling like an eternity. Just as she was about to look up, to gauge Professor Watson's reaction, his voice cut through the tension.

"For Mr. Weasley?" Bryan asked, his tone calm and devoid of any judgment.

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