From a young age, Hermione Granger had been the very definition of a top student — the exemplary child parents often talked about, the one everyone believed would have a bright future.
And it was this outstanding child who, at the age of twelve, received her acceptance letter to Hogwarts, changing her life entirely.
Though she was excited, Hermione also felt a great deal of anxiety about studying at a place as unfamiliar as Hogwarts. To prepare herself, she bought many books before term started, hoping to learn as much about the magical world as she could so she wouldn't fall behind her classmates.
The thought of going from top of the class to bottom was terrifying — such a fall could easily ruin a promising student. Hermione was determined not to let that happen. So during the holidays, she read diligently and even tried practicing a few spells.
With this anxious determination, Hermione boarded the train to school. Onboard, she met Neville Longbottom, and seeing him, she thought, If this is what my magical peers are like, maybe I won't be at the bottom after all.
Then, in another compartment, she saw Ron attempting to perform magic. After watching his fumbling attempt, Hermione thought, Seriously? This is it?
Clearly, even children raised in the magical world weren't necessarily better than her — especially since her own Repairing Charm had successfully fixed Harry Potter's glasses.
Hermione's confidence began to swell rapidly. She was sure she'd once again be top of the year, just like before.
Then she met the "final boss" — Eda. And her confidence instantly deflated like a balloon pricked by a pin — even faster than it had inflated.
Eda had single-handedly driven off a group of older students. The way she cast spells so effortlessly, and especially her astounding wandless magic, all left a deep impression on Hermione's young mind.
This girl, who wasn't much older than Hermione herself, made her feel deeply discouraged.
So this is what a child raised in the magical world is really capable of? And What kind of spellcasting was that? It was nothing like what the books described!
After arriving at school, Hermione quickly realized she had overthought things — Eda was an exception, a one-of-a-kind student at Hogwarts. Reclaiming her pride, Hermione once again displayed her brilliance and earned the nickname "Little Miss Know-It-All, Second Edition."
After becoming friends with Harry and Ron, Hermione learned much more about Eda. To her surprise, Eda came from a background very similar to her own, which made Hermione admire her even more.
Hermione saw Eda as her role model — someone to look up to and strive toward. But just because she admired Eda didn't mean she thought Eda was always right, especially when it came to something Hermione had seen with her own eyes.
Interrupting someone mid-sentence was impolite, especially when it was someone she wasn't very close to. Hermione had acted out of impulse just now, and she felt a little embarrassed about it.
She continued, "I'm sorry, Eda. I got a little too worked up. But it's true that Snape tried to hurt Harry. I read about that spell in a book — it requires eye contact with the target. At the time, he was staring at Harry without blinking."
Looking at Hermione now, Eda felt as if she were seeing a smaller version of herself. Once upon a time, she too had been so self-righteous — convinced she was the smartest one and only trusted her own judgment.
Though Eda was still pretty self-assured these days, that didn't stop her from giving Hermione a little "lesson." After all, her fists were bigger, so she was the one in the right.
Eda said, "Just because you saw it — does that mean it's definitely true? Just because you believe something — does that make it right?"
"But I really did see it..." Hermione's voice trailed off, growing softer and less certain.
She began to doubt herself. Hagrid had said Snape would never harm Harry, and now Eda was saying the same thing.
Could I really have seen it wrong? But when she broke Snape's line of sight, Harry's broom immediately went back to normal — how could that be explained?
Smart people really are good at thinking things through. Seeing Hermione fall into deep thought, Eda felt very satisfied — why was there this sudden sense of accomplishment bubbling up inside her?
No wonder so many people liked playing simulation games — turns out that sense of achievement really was addictive.
As for Harry and Ron, Eda didn't even want to look at them. These two useless boys were just staring at her with wide eyes, completely failing to understand what she was trying to say. They were still stuck in their own assumptions.
"You mean, what I saw might not have been the whole picture?" Hermione asked uncertainly. She was sure she hadn't seen wrong at the time — but if she hadn't, maybe she simply hadn't seen enough?
Talking to smart people really was efficient — just a little nudge and they got it. Eda nodded and said, "Professor Snape is sharp-tongued, biased, and has a terrible attitude. It's natural to dislike him, and that makes people think he must be a bad guy."
After hearing this, Hermione began carefully reviewing her memories of that day's match, trying to pick out any details she might have missed. Had she really been biased against Snape? Had that bias clouded her judgment?
"Snape got hurt on Halloween. He went to the right-side corridor on the 3rd floor — he must've been trying to steal the Philosopher's Stone while no one was paying attention!" said Harry, who had been mentally checked out of the conversation for a while.
He still firmly believed Snape was the one behind everything. He thought Eda just hadn't seen Snape's true nature yet.
"When you guys went off to play with the troll, I was on the 3rd floor too. Does that mean I was trying to steal the Philosopher's Stone?" Eda retorted. "Though I am interested in that thing. Turning stuff into gold? Who wouldn't want that!"
That's right — Eda's interest in the Philosopher's Stone wasn't in its promise of immortality, but in its ability to turn any metal into gold.
If she ever ran out of money, she could just turn something into gold — what a comfortable life that would be, hehehe.
All that fighting and killing was far too dangerous.
The other aspect of the Philosopher's Stone — immortality — didn't interest Eda at all. Living for that long sounded utterly meaningless.
With eternal life came endless partings and deaths. Everything in life would eventually lose its significance. You might preserve time, but you'd also lose it.
For a fleeting moment, Eda had also thought, just like Quirrell, about taking the Philosopher's Stone for herself, about stealing it.
Fine wine brings a blush to the cheeks, Galleons stir the heart — for a stone that could create wealth, it was impossible not to be tempted.
But even if she could get away with taking it… could she really live long enough to enjoy it?
Forget the criminals eyeing the Stone — Dumbledore alone wouldn't let her off the hook.
A trip to Azkaban for "advanced studies" would be inevitable.
And she might not even get a return ticket — just a one-way trip with a bonus voucher: prison cell included, grave plot complimentary.
All get-rich-quick schemes were written clearly into the law. Giving up her freedom for a piece of the Philosopher's Stone? Not worth it.
That trade wasn't worth making. Better to pin her hopes on winning the Daily Prophet's grand prize.
Harry, however, stubbornly clung to his belief. Unless Eda laid the truth out in front of him with solid proof, he wouldn't believe a single word of her defense of Snape.
Pointing to the scar on his forehead, he said, "When Snape looks at me, my scar hurts. I've discovered his secret — he has a reason and a motive to hurt me."
If you're going to put it that way, then I'm not going to argue with you anymore — Eda had given up on debating Harry. Look at his age, look at hers — Meh, why even bother?
Even if she laid out all her suspicions about Quirrell, it probably wouldn't change anything — Eda had no physical evidence to prove her deductions were right.
Eda's claims weren't much different from what Harry and Hermione had said — all based on what they'd seen with their own eyes, without any solid evidence to back them up. Eda could convince Hermione, but Harry could just as easily use the same reasoning to dismiss her.
Right now, Harry Potter was dead set on blaming Snape. No one could talk him out of it. Like a snapping turtle, once he bit down, he refused to let go. Even if Eda laid out the most convincing argument, Harry could shut it all down with a simple, "I don't believe it."
The only way he might believe otherwise was if Dumbledore, Snape, or Quirrell himself were brought in for a face-to-face confrontation. But which of those three could Eda actually summon?
One was the Headmaster, another the Potions Master, and the third the real culprit — the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor. All of them outranked her by far. None of them were people Eda could command.
Might as well let it go. The innocent need no defense, and the guilty can't hide forever. When the truth eventually came out, Harry would naturally realize he had wronged a good man.
Besides, Snape himself wasn't unaware of the accusations against him. If even he wasn't in a hurry to clear his name, why should Eda rush to do it for him?
Worrying over someone else's business — what was the point?
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