Yesterday, Malfoy Dracona's followers were whispering something in the hallway. That voice had already spread to every corner of Hogwarts Castle. Morning. The ceiling of the Great Hall reflected the outdoor sky as always. Cloudy. Gray. Graves Hermione carried her tray toward the usual Gryffindor table. She tried to sit down. The student next to her stood up abruptly. Moving to a different seat. She thought it might be her imagination. But the Hufflepuff girl across from her—the one she'd talked to normally yesterday—didn't meet her eyes and quietly shifted to the edge of the table. A voice came from the Ravenclaw section. "Wasn't it that Gryffindor kid who went into the Restricted Section first?" "And they say that kid was the first to smell the burning." It was a deliberately audible voice. The volume made it clear it was intentional. Graves Hermione picked up her spoon. Her hand trembled, just slightly. "[angry]What the hell are you talking about!?" Wilkes Ronalda stood up. Her reddish-brown curly hair swayed. Her green eyes gleamed with anger. She slammed her body against the table. The chair legs scraped the floor. A loud bang echoed through the Great Hall. For a moment, silence. Then—a ripple of giggling spread. Wilkes Ronalda's face turned red. A mixture of frustration and embarrassment. "[sad]Ronalda, sit down." Graves Hermione spoke quietly. Her face stayed forward. She continued eating, bringing the spoon to her mouth while pretending nothing was wrong. It had no taste. Wilkes Ronalda reluctantly sat. She was gripping a Chocolate Frog so hard her fingertips had gone white. "[angry]Hermione isn't the culprit." "[serious]I know." She knew. But because of Wilkes Ronalda's anger, the commotion drew attention. Eyes gathered. The rumors began to sound like fact. Graves Hermione stared at the honey on her oatmeal. (I'm not the culprit.) She repeated only that inside her chest. --- Afternoon. The library. Graves Hermione had ancient documents spread out. She continued the careful work of copying the text from the burned-out pages. It was as always. She was trying to keep things as they always were. She first noticed when the table next to her became empty. Two third-year students who had been there moments before gathered their things and moved to a different seat. That alone could have been coincidence. She next noticed when the table diagonally behind her to the right became empty. Quietly, without anyone saying anything, people left. The radius expanded. The empty space spread slowly, centered on Graves Hermione. Before long, there was no one within three meters in any direction. A figure appeared in the shadow of the shelves. She recognized them immediately as one of Malfoy Dracona's followers. Watching from a distance. Observing. (That's clever, she thought. Really clever.) Graves Hermione kept her eyes on the page. She kept moving her hand. The door opened. She didn't turn around, but she knew from the footsteps. Small, quiet, but with no hesitation in the gait. It was Lorkwood Jinia. Deep purple short bob. Odd eyes of different colors on each side—gold and blue. The Ravenclaw robes worn with perfect precision. Jinia was heading toward her. A voice came from the shadow of the shelves. Quiet, but clear in the library's silence. "Lorkwood senpai, I think you should sit over there. People might think you're part of the culprit group." Jinia's footsteps stopped. Just for a moment. Just a small hesitation. Graves Hermione saw it. Even from a distance, it was clear. Jinia's body paused slightly. Her gaze shifted away from Graves Hermione's direction. (Ah.) Graves Hermione returned her eyes to the parchment. She kept moving her pen. Deep inside her chest, something cold and hard began to form. --- The hallway after classes. "Wilkes." Malfoy Dracona's voice was quiet. She waved her followers away, then stood in front of Wilkes Ronalda. Her long silver hair caught the candlelight and swayed smoothly. Her cold silver eyes reflected no emotion. Wilkes Ronalda stopped. "[cold]That person you're protecting might be the culprit who used the entire student body as test subjects." Her voice didn't rise. Low, calm, and therefore unpleasant. "[cold]Can you still say you like them? If you keep protecting them, you'll be seen as an accomplice too." "[angry]That's not true! Hermione would never——" "[cold]What's your evidence?" Wilkes Ronalda stopped. "You have nothing, do you?" Her voice didn't change. Emotionless. Just the way of confirming a fact, nothing more. Wilkes Ronalda stood with her mouth open, unable to say anything. Malfoy Dracona watched that silence for about three seconds, then left without a word. Her followers trailed behind. The footsteps faded away. Wilkes Ronalda was left alone in the hallway. Her fists clenched. Her nails dug into her palms. (Hermione isn't the culprit. Absolutely not.) She knew that. She knew it, but— When asked for evidence, nothing came. The feeling of wanting to believe and the feeling of fear began to collide inside Wilkes Ronalda's chest. --- Evening. The library. As Graves Hermione walked between the shelves, she saw Wilkes Ronalda near the entrance. She hurried over. Her voice was slightly hoarse. Maybe from not speaking all day. "[sad]Ronalda." Still holding the ancient documents to her chest, Graves Hermione stopped. "[sad]I'm not the culprit. I was just investigating. I went into the Restricted Section to break the curse——" The words came out. She couldn't stop them. Everything she'd held in all day poured out the moment she saw Wilkes Ronalda's face. "[sad]You believe me, right?" Wilkes Ronalda opened her mouth. She was about to say of course. ——That moment. Wilkes Ronalda's eyes, for just an instant, shifted away from Graves Hermione's. Less than a second. Maybe a fraction of a second. Such a small shift that no one would notice. Graves Hermione noticed. "[gentle]...Yeah, that's right." Graves Hermione spoke first. She smiled. It wasn't a good smile, but she smiled. "[gentle]Thanks. I'll get back to my investigation." She started walking toward the back of the shelves. "Wait—no, that's not——" She heard Wilkes Ronalda's voice. She didn't turn around. Her pace quickened. She turned a corner. Then turned again. No footsteps followed. --- Closing time was approaching. Only Graves Hermione remained in the library. The ancient documents were spread across the desk. The lamp's light illuminated the parchment. The moon was visible through the window. Not a full moon. But definitely rounder than four days ago. Graves Hermione stared at the text. She couldn't read anything. Water had pooled in her eyes, and the letters blurred. A stone fell somewhere. Just a sound in the nighttime library. I'm not the culprit. But no one believes me. People said they liked me, but I can't live up to anyone's feelings. My appearance changed, and I understand nothing. Who am I supposed to be—— Only her mouth moved. No sound came out. Graves Hermione collapsed onto the desk, still holding the ancient documents. She held back her crying. She pressed her mouth shut so no sound escaped. Only her shoulders trembled. That moment. The world lurched. Not a lurch—it was as if the entire world tilted. Her eyes flickered. The shadow of herself reflected in the window glass changed shape for just an instant. A different outline. Different hair. The shadow of her original form, before the curse. It returned in less than two seconds. Back to the chestnut-colored fluffy hair. Brown eyes. The star-shaped earring on her left ear. Her body was becoming unstable. She already knew that. But now she had no way to confirm it, no way to stop it, nothing. Graves Hermione wiped her eyes. Her hand, closing the ancient documents, stopped. One more second. Just one more second. Slowly, she opened the pages again. Four days until the full moon. The stone chamber at the lake bottom. The underwater breathing spell. If even one person went to the lake without permission—— She hadn't given up. She wouldn't give up. With tears still drying on her face, Graves Hermione picked up her pen. Outside the window, the moon quietly, gradually continued to grow rounder. At the bottom of the abyss, Graves Hermione alone continued reading the pages. And that night, in the burned-out text, she found a single small line. "——The path to the lake bottom cannot be reached alone." The moment she read it, her chest tightened. Alone, cannot be reached——what did that mean? Graves Hermione still didn't know.