After the evening banquet, I headed to the common room. It was nearly deserted, save for Hermione, who sat in an armchair by the fireplace, hunched over yet another book. She didn’t look up as I entered, and Fidell settled himself at the doorway, as if sensing that tonight’s tension wasn’t quite over. I tried to ignore the quiet but unmistakable sense of being watched.

  I barely had time to unpack my thoughts when Hermione rose, her eyes hard as steel. “I need to talk to you, Ben,” she said, her voice unusually sharp.

  I blinked, taken aback. “Alright… what about?”

  She took a step closer, holding up the book she’d been reading earlier. Its cover read A History of Lost Magic. “When we first met, you mentioned magic that was supposed to be lost centuries ago. The book I’m reading says it was destroyed in a fire over a thousand years ago. So, either you’re lying… or you’re hiding something big.”

  She had been piecing this together for some time. I’d seriously underestimated her sharp memory, her attention to detail, and her curiosity. She hadn’t looked away from my every action as casually as I’d assumed.

  “So you’ve been suspicious of me?” I asked, fighting to keep my expression neutral.

  “Observant,” she corrected, her eyes narrowing. “How do you know all these things, things no one else seems to know?”

  My usual deflection wouldn’t work here. “I’m a wizard, Hermione,” I replied, attempting calm. “Just like anyone else here.”

  Her frown deepened. “Magic or not, wizards are human. They have families, they grow up, they learn. What you know… it’s like you’ve lived centuries.”

  It struck me how young she truly was and yet how perceptive. I sighed, realizing I would have to offer something. “Look, I know more than the average wizard because… well, because I’m not exactly the average wizard.”

  She crossed her arms, gaze unyielding. “What are you, then?”

  I hesitated, grappling with the danger of this knowledge. “I am… an ancient magical being. Reincarnated, yes. But human now.”

  Hermione’s face morphed from suspicion to wide-eyed wonder. “Reincarnated…?” she whispered, as if weighing every syllable. “You mean… before, you weren’t human?”

  The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

  “Correct. I was something else before this life. And I’ve retained a certain amount of… knowledge.”

  A fierce spark lit her eyes. “An elf? A centaur? Some magical being we’ve only read about?”

  I shook my head, struggling to find the right balance of honesty without revealing too much. “Not an elf or a centaur. My nature is… unique.” I could feel Fidell’s alert gaze on us, even though he remained at the door. Hermione was no threat, but she was closer than anyone had ever come to understanding the truth.

  Hermione’s eyes shone, fueled by an intense determination. “Why are you here, then?”

  I took a breath, deciding to give her one piece of the truth. “The Dark Lord will return. He isn’t gone for good. And Harry Potter… he’s no longer here to face him.”

  She flinched, shaking her head in disbelief. “Harry Potter… he’s the boy who lived.”

  “Yes, but the spell protecting him… it failed.” I held her gaze, steeling myself for the next part. “Dumbledore miscalculated. Harry’s aunt, who was supposed to protect him, didn’t have the bond Dumbledore thought she had. Lily Potter and her sister were only half-sisters. When the spell relied on love and blood, it was only halfway there. That’s how Voldemort found him.”

  Her jaw dropped. “How… how can you know all of that?”

  “Some things just… can’t be explained.” The answer felt flimsy, even to me, and Hermione’s expression showed she wasn’t satisfied.

  “That’s not good enough, Ben,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “What are you? How can I trust you when you keep holding back?”

  The accusation stung. “Hermione, I can’t tell you everything. Some truths are dangerous, even for those who hear them.”

  Her eyes glistened, her voice breaking. “Then… I don’t think we can be friends. I can’t trust someone who’s hiding so much.”

  “Hermione…” I began, but she stepped back, her face hardened by determination and hurt.

  “If you can’t tell me what you really are, then we’re done,” she choked out, tears slipping down her cheeks. Then, before I could speak, she slapped me—a small hand, but the sting lingered, sharper than I could have anticipated.

  I watched in silence as she fled to the girls’ dorm, her footsteps echoing in the empty room. I was left standing alone, the pain of the slap fading slower than I’d expected. This, I realized, was the cost of holding back. Being human had introduced an unexpected frailty, a vulnerability that extended beyond my body.

  Pain, both physical and emotional, was a creation of my sister’s domain, one I’d never had to experience like this before. How could a child’s slap hurt so much?

  As the other Ravenclaws began filing into the common room, the weight of Hermione’s loss grew heavier. Until now, I’d dismissed human relationships as fleeting distractions, but somehow, my time with Hermione had begun to chip away at that detachment. Her logical nature, her hunger for understanding—they’d made our conversations something I’d come to look forward to.

  I sat in silence long after the common room filled with students, replaying our conversation in my mind. This feeling of loss was foreign, and yet it lingered with a bitterness I couldn’t easily shake. For the first time, I regretted my inability to share the full truth. I’d told her what I could, yet even now, it seemed painfully inadequate.

  Surely, I thought, she will see reason once her anger cools.

  So she's been suspicious of me for a while...

  So even though she's a child she knows where baby's come from.

  An Elf? I couldn't tell her what I really am. She would freak out or at the very least keep me at a distance forever. Most likely she'd never trust me. Worst yet I cannot directly lie, " that... Definitely not an Elf and I cannot say what I was".

  How could such a small hand inflict so much pain? I asked myself just before the rest of our house came back to the dorms for the night. Pain is something I had never had to deal with before my incarnation. I'm always surprised by how much an injury hurts. Pain is one of my sister's creations and I don't like it at all.