== Time Skip ==

With Oliver

In the library

After winter break, the boys and Hermione were buried in a pile of books, scanning for answers. Suddenly, Oliver heard Hermione exclaim, "I had you looking in the wrong section. How could I be so stupid?"

She slammed a large, dusty tome onto the table, and Harry, Ron, and Oliver instinctively pulled their books back.

"I checked this out weeks ago for a bit of light reading," Hermione said, holding up the thick book.

Oliver raised an eyebrow and asked, "This is light reading, love?"

Hermione glanced at him, cheeks flushing slightly. "It is for me, Ollie."

Ron, chuckling, added, "If I had said that, she'd be giving me her famous glare."

Hermione gave Ron a sharp look, and he held up his hands in mock surrender. "There it is. Knew it was coming."

Oliver shook his head, rubbing his forehead with a grin.

Hermione flipped through the book and suddenly stopped. "Here it is! Nicholas Flamel is the only known maker of the Sorcerer's Stone."

The boys leaned in, repeating in unison, "The what?"

Hermione sighed, "Honestly, don't you three read?"

Oliver smirked. "Only when class demands it. Besides, you're our resident expert. You tell us everything before we even have to open a book. It's in your nature. And, honestly, that's one of the things I like about you, Mia."

Hermione softened, smiling at him. "Thank you, Ollie. Anyway, listen to this: 'The Sorcerer's Stone is a legendary substance with astonishing powers. It can transform any metal into pure gold... and produces the Elixir of Life, which will make the drinker immortal.'"

Ron's eyes went wide. "Immortal?"

Hermione looked at him and clarified, "It means you'll never die."

Ron frowned. "I know what it means!"

Harry quickly shushed him, and Ron quieted down as Hermione read on.

"'The only Stone currently in existence belongs to Mr. Nicholas Flamel, the noted alchemist who celebrated his 665th birthday last year.'" Hermione looked up at the boys. "That's what Fluffy's guarding on the third floor. That's what's under the trap door—the Sorcerer's Stone."

They exchanged tense glances, realizing the gravity of their discovery, and then quietly left the library together.

After sharing their intense discovery, Hermione wasted no time and dove back into the bookshelves, scanning titles with an intensity that left the boys exchanging glances.

"Hermione, what else could you possibly be looking for?" Ron asked, watching as she piled book after book into her arms.

She huffed as she added another heavy book to her stack. "If someone's after the Sorcerer's Stone, we need to know exactly what they could do with it, not just about immortality. I want to see if there's any history of how people have used it before. Besides, we need to find a way to stop them."

Oliver nodded thoughtfully, "Makes sense. Knowledge is power, after all. And if someone dangerous like Snape is going after it, then we should be ready."

Hermione set her pile on the table and began leafing through one of the books, muttering to herself as she searched. Harry, Ron, and Oliver flipped through books as well, following her lead, even if they were a bit less thorough.

As they worked, Harry looked up suddenly. "What if Dumbledore knows that Snape is after it? Why wouldn't he stop him?"

Hermione looked up thoughtfully, "Maybe he's aware, but he doesn't think Snape could actually get past all the enchantments protecting it. Dumbledore would make sure the Stone is safe... wouldn't he?"

Oliver leaned forward, brows furrowing. "He would. But Dumbledore's also the kind of person who likes people to face their own battles. Maybe he knows and is testing us... testing Harry, even."

Ron shook his head, exasperated. "I dunno about that. All I know is that if that Stone is as powerful as all that, I don't want it in the wrong hands. And if we're going to figure out how to help, we'll need every ounce of info we can get."

The group continued searching, feeling a weighty sense of purpose. In the quiet of the library, they pored over book after book, determined to uncover whatever secrets they could before the threat to the Stone became something far worse.

As the others continued skimming through the hefty volumes, Ron took a deep breath and nudged Hermione gently. "Hey, Hermione, can I talk to you for a sec? Just... over here."

Hermione looked a bit puzzled but nodded, following Ron to a quieter corner of the library. "What is it, Ron?" she asked, glancing back to make sure Oliver and Harry weren't listening.

Ron lowered his voice. "Do you know about that prophecy about Oliver? You know, the one in The Tales of Oliver Queen?"

A faint blush crept onto Hermione's cheeks, and she hesitated, almost as if weighing whether to answer. "Of course, I know it," she finally said, eyes dropping to the floor. "I used to... I used to dream that..."

"It's alright, Hermione. I'm not going to make fun of you. Just tell me," Ron said, surprisingly gentle.

Taking a small breath, Hermione glanced away and murmured, "I used to dream that it was me, that I was his first love... that it would be me he'd fall in love with, and that we'd both gain that ancient magic together." She gave a small, embarrassed laugh. "It's silly, really."

Ron looked at her, his expression more thoughtful than usual. "Silly? Hermione, the prophecy says that his first love would share magic with him that could make them stronger together than apart. And here he is at Hogwarts — when we're going."

She looked back at him, half hopeful, half uncertain. "You don't think it's ridiculous, do you?"

Ron shook his head. "Nah, not at all. If anyone's got a chance of being the one in that prophecy, Hermione, I'd bet on you. Oliver's always looking out for you. You've seen the way he's been since you've all met."

Hermione's blush deepened, but a small smile played on her lips. "Well, maybe it's not so silly after all..." she said quietly, glancing back toward Oliver.

Ron noticed Hermione's gaze drifting back toward Oliver, a soft smile lingering on her face as she watched him flip through a massive book, brow furrowed in concentration. He gave a small chuckle, leaning closer to her and saying in a low voice, "You really do like him, don't you?"

Hermione's blush deepened, and she quickly looked away. "Ron, don't be ridiculous," she mumbled, trying to sound casual, but her voice betrayed her.

"Nah, Hermione," Ron said with a grin, "I mean, just look at him. The prophecy in his book says something like... let me think... 'When Oliver Queen finds his first love, the two will share a bond of ancient magic, granting them strength together that neither could possess alone.'"

Hermione looked back up at Ron, eyes wide. "You... you remember it that well?"

Ron nodded. "Yeah, it was a big deal, that part of the book. My mum always said it made Oliver sound like he'd be practically unstoppable with the right person by his side." He glanced at her, smirking. "And I think someone's hoping that person might be... you."

Hermione bit her lip, clearly wrestling with her thoughts. "Well, the prophecy does sound... beautiful," she admitted softly. "I used to imagine what that magic would feel like, to know that someone trusted you completely, and that together, you'd be stronger than any magic in the world." She glanced over at Oliver again. "But it's just a story, right? I mean... it's not like it's real."

Ron shrugged, watching Oliver too, then looked back at her. "It's more than just a story. Look at him, Hermione. He cares about you. He's always looking out for you, more than anyone else. And if you ask me... maybe that prophecy isn't just a bedtime story after all."

Hermione felt a warmth spread through her chest at Ron's words, almost as if a small flame had been lit there. She could feel her cheeks heating up, and she quickly looked down, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear to hide her face.

Ron noticed the blush immediately, grinning. "Oi, Hermione," he teased, nudging her with his elbow. "You're blushing."

Hermione looked up, trying to brush it off, but the warmth only deepened as she glanced over at Oliver again, who was still immersed in his book, unaware of their conversation. "It's just... the library is a bit warm today, that's all," she said quickly.

"Uh-huh," Ron replied with a smirk, clearly unconvinced. "Sure, because the library is always so warm in winter." He leaned in a little closer, lowering his voice. "Look, there's nothing wrong with liking him, you know. I mean, he's always been there for you, and—"

"I know," Hermione interrupted softly, her voice barely above a whisper. She looked back over at Oliver, watching as he absentmindedly pushed his glasses up his nose while reading, completely focused and determined. Her heart seemed to skip a beat as she realized just how much his presence meant to her.

"It's just... he makes me feel like I can do anything, you know?" she admitted, her eyes softening as she watched Oliver. "Even when things get tough, he's right there. He's... he's special."

Ron smiled knowingly, giving her a gentle nudge. "Sounds like someone's found their first love to me."

Hermione felt her blush deepen but couldn't bring herself to look away from Oliver. In that moment, she wondered if maybe, just maybe, the prophecy held more truth than she'd ever dared to believe.

Hermione turned to Ron, her eyes wide. "You better not tell Oliver, Ron! I mean it," she whispered urgently, her cheeks still flushed. "This is... it's just between us."

Ron's grin widened as he leaned back, crossing his arms. "So, I was right? Wicked."

Hermione shot him a look, trying to keep her expression serious. "Ron, I mean it. Not a word," she said, her tone a mixture of sternness and embarrassment.

"Alright, alright," he laughed, holding his hands up in surrender. "Your secret's safe with me. But, you know, if you ever did want him to know... well, I reckon he'd be over the moon."

Hermione glanced back at Oliver, who was completely unaware of the conversation unfolding just a few feet away. She felt her heart flutter at Ron's words but quickly shook her head, trying to steady herself. "I... I don't know if he'd feel the same. I mean, he's Oliver Queen. He's brave, he's strong, and he's... well, amazing."

Ron chuckled. "Hermione, you're brilliant. He'd be a complete idiot not to notice that. Besides, didn't you say you used to dream about being his first love?"

Hermione sighed, a small, dreamy smile on her face. "Maybe... but that's just it, isn't it? A dream."

Ron gave her a reassuring pat on the shoulder. "Well, I think sometimes dreams come true, especially for people like you." He winked, then added in a low voice, "And if you ever want help giving him a little nudge, you know where to find me."

Hermione rolled her eyes but smiled back, her heart feeling lighter than it had in ages.

Harry walked over, noticing Hermione's red cheeks. "Hermione, why are you blushing?" he asked, glancing between her and Ron.

Ron, grinning mischievously, said, "Oh, nothing—just that Oliver happens to be her first love!"

Before he could even finish his sentence, Hermione gave him a swift smack on the chest, her face turning even redder. "Ron! I told you not to say anything!" she hissed, her voice both indignant and mortified.

Harry's eyes widened, caught between surprise and amusement. "Wait, Oliver?" he asked, clearly intrigued. "As in our Oliver?"

Hermione buried her face in her hands, peeking through her fingers as she shot Ron a death glare. "Yes, Harry, our Oliver," she muttered, trying to regain some composure. "But it's just... well, it's nothing really. Just a silly childhood dream."

Ron rubbed his chest, still smirking. "Silly, huh? That blush says otherwise."

Harry grinned, his face lighting up. "Honestly, Hermione, you should just tell him! Oliver's great, and who knows—he might feel the same way."

Hermione shook her head, looking flustered. "You two are impossible. And don't you dare say a word to him!" She took a deep breath, trying to compose herself. "If anyone is going to tell him, it's... well, it'll be me. If I ever decide to, that is."

Ron and Harry exchanged a quick glance, both grinning from ear to ear. "Fair enough, Hermione," Ron said with a wink. "But for the record, we're rooting for you."

Hermione couldn't help but laugh a little, her nerves easing. "Alright, alright. But if I catch either of you dropping hints, there will be consequences," she warned, smiling despite herself.

Harry and Ron nodded, pretending to zip their lips. But as Hermione turned back to her book, they couldn't help but share a knowing look, both secretly hoping she'd find a way to tell Oliver soon.

Just then, Oliver strolled over, looking a bit restless. "Anyone up for a bit of archery practice?" he asked, rubbing the back of his neck. "I could use a distraction, something to clear my mind."

Ron and Harry exchanged a quick glance, trying to hide their grins. "Oh, um, we actually have... somewhere else to be," Ron said, trying to sound casual as he nudged Harry.

"Yeah, sorry, Oliver," Harry added with a barely contained smirk. "But you should ask Hermione. She, uh... she might be free."

Before Oliver could respond, the two of them had ducked out, leaving Hermione and Oliver alone.

Oliver turned to her, eyebrows raised. "Please tell me you're available to hang out for a bit? Maybe shoot some arrows? I'd be happy to teach you if you're up for it."

Hermione, her cheeks still tinged pink from the earlier conversation, tried to compose herself. "Well... alright," she said with a shy smile. "I've never tried it before, though, so I'll need all the help I can get."

"Perfect," Oliver said, grinning as he led the way. "And don't worry, I'll start with the basics. You'll be hitting bullseyes in no time."

They made their way outside to the edge of the grounds, where a makeshift target was set up. Oliver took out his bow and handed it to Hermione, gently guiding her hands into position. "Here," he said, moving behind her to adjust her stance, his hands resting lightly on hers. "Just hold it steady like this."

Hermione swallowed nervously, suddenly hyper-aware of how close he was. "Like this?" she asked, focusing on the bowstring in front of her.

Oliver nodded, his voice low. "Exactly. Now, just take a deep breath and aim."

She pulled back the string, feeling the tension, and released. The arrow flew, landing just shy of the target's center. Hermione's face lit up. "I didn't miss entirely!" she said, laughing with excitement.

Oliver chuckled, stepping back a bit to give her space. "See? You're a natural. A few more tries, and you'll have it."

Hermione took another shot, her confidence growing with each arrow. Oliver watched her, smiling as she grew more comfortable. "Not bad, not bad at all," he praised. "With practice, you'll be even better."

They spent the next hour shooting, laughing, and talking about everything and nothing. As the sun started to dip lower, Hermione lowered her bow, glancing at him thoughtfully. "Thank you, Oliver," she said softly. "For spending time with me. It was... it was nice."

Oliver gave her a warm smile. "Anytime, Hermione. I'm glad you came along. I don't think I could've found a better archery partner."

Hermione felt a flutter in her chest, her earlier nerves now a warm, comforting glow. As they gathered the arrows, she caught herself hoping they'd have many more moments like this.

Oliver smiled at Hermione as she agreed to continue. "Alright, then," he said softly, moving to stand behind her once more. This time, he placed his hands gently on her waist to guide her stance, and Hermione's cheeks flushed a shade darker. She steadied herself, trying to focus, her heart racing from his touch.

Oliver lifted her hands slightly with his own. "Lift the bow just a bit," he whispered, his voice close to her ear. Hermione reached down to her side, pulling an arrow from the quiver and positioning it on the bowstring. She took a breath, drawing the string back with Oliver's hands still lightly guiding her.

"Now," Oliver said, his voice steady and calm. "Look at your target in the distance. Feel the vibrations in the wind, hear the bowstring tighten, and let go, Mia."

Hermione focused, letting the rhythm of his words settle her nerves. She felt the tension of the bow, the quiet of the field, and then, with a steady breath, released the arrow. It sailed forward, striking near the center of the target.

She laughed, exhilarated. "I did it!" she said, glancing back at Oliver with wide eyes.

He grinned, his hands still resting on her waist. "See? I told you—you're a natural," he said, looking at her with a hint of admiration. "With a bit more practice, you'll be a regular archer in no time."

Hermione's heart was still pounding, both from her success and the closeness of their moment. "Thank you," she said, her voice quieter. "For teaching me, Oliver."

He chuckled softly, finally lowering his hands. "Anytime, Mia. I'm just glad we got to do this together."

They shared a quiet smile, and for a moment, it felt like there was no one else in the world but the two of them, standing side by side under the fading sun.

At night

After a few more practice shots, Hermione and Oliver made their way back toward the castle, the quiet of the evening settling around them. Oliver walked beside her, his stride casual but comfortable, the silence between them not awkward, but peaceful.

"So," Oliver began, breaking the calm, "I think you've earned a proper archer's title, Mia. You've got good instincts."

Hermione smiled at the compliment, feeling a warm glow of pride. "Thanks. You were a great teacher," she replied, glancing up at him. "I didn't think I'd ever be good at this."

Oliver shrugged, hands tucked into his pockets as they walked. "There's more to archery than just aiming and shooting. It's about balance. Focus. Understanding the flow of things. You'll get the hang of it."

They reached the entrance of the castle, the grand doors looming before them as the air grew colder. Oliver gave Hermione a quick smile as he held open one of the doors for her. "Come on, let's head back before the others think we've run off somewhere."

Hermione laughed softly and nodded. "Right, Harry and Ron will probably be waiting for us."

The two of them walked in step, the conversation drifting between them as they ascended the stairs toward the dorms. Hermione couldn't help but feel a sense of contentment, the kind of ease that only came when she was around Oliver, the way they could talk freely without any pressure.

As they reached the Gryffindor common room, the door swung open to reveal Harry and Ron lounging on the couches, talking in low voices. Ron immediately looked up and raised an eyebrow, clearly amused by their late arrival.

"So, how'd it go? Hermione, did you hit the target?" Ron asked, sitting up.

"I did!" Hermione answered, grinning. "Oliver's a great teacher. I might just take this up as a hobby."

Harry chuckled from the armchair. "A hobby, huh? We'll have to watch out for a future archery champion."

Oliver laughed along with Harry but quickly turned the conversation to something else. "What have you two been up to?"

Ron threw a look at Harry, who gave a slight nod, and then Ron replied, "Oh, nothing much. Just catching up on a bit of research. Trying to figure out what we're really up against."

Hermione, sensing the change in tone, raised an eyebrow but said nothing. She knew Harry and Ron had been digging deeper into the mystery surrounding the Sorcerer's Stone, and she felt it was probably better to let them bring it up when they were ready.

"Well, we'll join you in the research soon," Oliver said with a teasing grin. "But for now, I think we could all use some food before we dive into more reading."

Ron groaned dramatically. "Food? Yeah, I'm definitely in for that."

With that, the four of them made their way to the kitchen, the evening's conversation turning lighter as they discussed everything from Quidditch to upcoming exams. For the first time in a while, everything felt right, and Oliver couldn't help but feel a sense of hope that, despite the dangers looming on the horizon, they'd face it all together—united as friends, and maybe even something more for him and Hermione.

Later

After grabbing some food, Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Oliver made their way to Hagrid's hut. The evening air was crisp as they walked through the grounds, the sound of their footsteps crunching on the snow. When they finally reached the door, Harry knocked, and the group waited patiently, the weight of their mission hanging in the air.

The door creaked open, and Hagrid's familiar face appeared, his large frame filling the doorway. "Hagrid," Harry greeted.

"Oh, hello," Hagrid replied, his voice muffled with regret. "Sorry, don't wish to be rude, but I'm in no state to entertain today." He began to close the door, but before he could, the group spoke in unison, "We know about the Sorcerer's Stone."

Hagrid froze, his eyes widening as he slowly opened the door once more. "Oh," he said quietly, stepping aside to let them in.

The group entered, and Harry immediately cut to the point. "We think Snape's trying to steal it."

Hagrid's face contorted with confusion. "Snape? Blimey, you're not still on about him, are ya?"

The group sat down, shrugging off their jackets, and Harry pressed further. "Hagrid, we know he's after it. We just don't know why."

"Snape's one of the teachers protecting the Stone," Hagrid replied, his tone a little defensive. "He's not about to steal it."

"What?" Harry asked, surprised.

"You heard me," Hagrid muttered, turning away. "Alright, now, I'm a bit preoccupied today."

"Wait a minute," Harry continued, his curiosity piqued. "'One of the teachers'?"

Hermione's eyes lit up with realization. "Of course! There are other things defending the Stone, aren't there? Spells, enchantments."

"That's right," Hagrid confirmed, but then he seemed to hesitate, scratching the back of his neck. "Waste of time, if you ask me. Ain't no one gonna get past Fluffy. Ain't a soul knows how, except for me and Dumbledore."

The words hung in the air, and then Hagrid's eyes widened as he realized what he had just revealed. "Oh, I shouldn't have told you that," he muttered quickly, looking nervous. "I shouldn't have said a word."

Just then, a loud rattling came from a nearby pot, distracting them all. Hagrid rushed to the table, his face contorted in alarm as he pulled out a large, cracked egg. He acted as though it were burning his fingers, swatting at it with his hands. "Oi, that's hot!" he grumbled, hurrying to the table with it.

The group stared at the egg in confusion.

"What exactly is that?" Oliver asked, unable to take his eyes off the mysterious object.

Hagrid shrugged, his face flushing slightly. "That? Oh, it's... it's, uh..." he trailed off, clearly trying to come up with an excuse.

Ron squinted at it and then his face lit up with recognition. "I know what that is! But Hagrid, how did you get one?"

"I won it," Hagrid said with a grin. "Met a stranger down at the pub. Seemed glad to be rid of it, as a matter of fact."

Before anyone could respond, the egg began to tremble violently, cracking open as something inside struggled to break free. The shell shattered, revealing a small, scaly dragon.

"It's a dragon!" Hermione gasped, her hand flying to her mouth in shock.

Ron, looking impressed, added, "That's not just any dragon. That's a Norwegian Ridgeback. My brother, Charlie, works with these in Romania."

Hagrid beamed with pride, watching the dragon wriggle free of its shell. "Isn't he beautiful? Oh, bless him. Look, he knows his mummy!" He laughed, reaching out to pet the dragon, who seemed to nuzzle into his touch.

"Norbert," Hagrid said with a grin, giving the dragon a soft stroke.

"Norbert?" Harry asked.

"He's got to have a name, don't he?" Hagrid looked at the dragon lovingly. "Don't you, Norbert?"

The dragon let out a loud, startled roar, shaking bits of eggshell off its head. As it did, a blast of fire shot straight at Hagrid's beard, igniting it in an instant.

"Ah!" Hagrid yelped, scrambling to put out the flames, swatting at his beard with a nearby oven mitt. "Blimey, he's gonna need a bit of training, alright!"

The kids couldn't help but laugh at the chaos unfolding before them.

Suddenly, the group noticed a figure outside the window, peering in with curiosity. Malfoy's pale face pressed against the glass, his eyes wide with intrigue. The moment he realized he was spotted, he quickly ducked out of sight.

"Malfoy," Harry muttered darkly.

"Oh, dear," Hagrid said, looking worried. "He must've seen something."

"Well, now we've got a problem," Ron said under his breath. "We've got to figure out what he knows."

The group exchanged uneasy glances, realizing that their secret might not be so secret anymore.

Later

Back at the castle

The group walked back to the castle, their minds still buzzing from what they had learned and witnessed at Hagrid's hut.

Harry broke the silence. "Hagrid always wanted a dragon. Told me so the first time I met him."

Ron shook his head, disbelief in his voice. "It's crazy. And now Malfoy knows."

Oliver raised an eyebrow, looking puzzled. "I don't understand. Is that bad?"

Ron's face darkened. "It's very bad."

As they continued down the path, the group froze in their tracks when they saw Professor McGonagall approaching from the opposite direction. Her sharp eyes glanced over them as she came to a stop, her voice cool but polite. "Good evening, students."

But it wasn't just McGonagall that caught their attention. Standing to her left, looking smug as ever, was none other than Draco Malfoy.

Oliver's hand balled into a fist, his voice rising with frustration. "You son of... Are you kidding me?"

Malfoy smirked, unfazed by Oliver's outburst. "What is it, Queen? Can't handle the truth?" he taunted, his eyes gleaming with malice.

McGonagall's sharp gaze flicked between the two boys, sensing the tension, but she didn't intervene just yet.

Malfoy's smirk deepened as he stood straighter, his voice dripping with mockery. "What's wrong, Queen? Did I hit a nerve?" he sneered, looking Oliver up and down with an air of superiority. "I didn't realize the great hero was so touchy. Maybe I should've kept my mouth shut about your precious little secret."

Oliver stepped forward, fists clenched at his sides, but Harry quickly placed a hand on his shoulder, holding him back. He could feel the tension crackling in the air.

Malfoy chuckled to himself, clearly enjoying the rise he was getting out of Oliver. "You really think you're special, don't you?" he continued, his voice dripping with venom. "Everyone knows what happens when you hang around with Hagrid. It's not just about having a pet dragon, you know. What's next? Maybe he'll let you train it for the next big disaster?"

Oliver took a step forward, his jaw tightening as he glared at Malfoy. "You think you're funny, don't you, Malfoy?" he growled. "But just because you think you know something doesn't mean you're right. Keep your mouth shut before you say something you'll regret."

Malfoy raised an eyebrow, clearly unfazed. "Oh, I'm just getting started, Queen," he said with a cocky smile. "Everyone in this school's going to hear about what I know. The mighty Oliver Queen, friends with a dragon. I can't wait to see how much trouble that's going to cause."

Ron, now standing beside Oliver, growled in frustration. "You're such a git, Malfoy. You always have to be the first to run your mouth."

McGonagall, who had been watching this exchange with growing disapproval, finally spoke, her voice calm but firm. "That's enough, Mr. Malfoy," she said coldly. "You will keep your comments to yourself. And you," she added, turning to Oliver and the others, "will learn to handle situations like this with more discretion."

Malfoy shot one last, smug look at Oliver, then turned to McGonagall with a false display of politeness. "Of course, Professor," he said,

Later

In Professor McGonagall's classroom

McGonagall stood before the group in her classroom, her stern gaze fixed on them as she spoke in a voice as sharp as a whip. "Nothing, I repeat, nothing gives a student the right to roam the halls after hours. Therefore, as punishment for your reckless behavior, 50 points will be deducted from each of you."

The group gasped, the weight of the announcement settling in.

"50 points?!" Harry exclaimed, his eyes wide in disbelief.

"Yes, 50 points," McGonagall replied, not missing a beat. "And to ensure this doesn't happen again, all five of you will serve detention."

There was a brief pause before Malfoy, his trademark smirk plastered across his face, stepped forward. "Excuse me, Professor," he said, raising his hand in mock politeness. "Perhaps I misheard you. I thought you said the five of us."

McGonagall's eyes narrowed slightly, but her voice remained calm. "No, you heard me correctly, Mr. Malfoy. As noble as your intentions were to inform me of your peers' wrongdoing, you too were out of bed after hours. Therefore, you will be joining your classmates in detention."

Oliver, unable to suppress his amusement, leaned over to Ron and muttered, "Boom. Mic drop."

Ron and Harry immediately mimicked the sound of an imaginary crowd, shouting, "Ooohhh!"

Oliver raised his wand, dramatically flicking it in the air. "Oops. My bad. That's my wand," he said with a playful grin. "Let's try that again."

With a flourish, Oliver shook his wand again, and it transformed into a microphone. He dropped it onto the floor with a soft clink.

Ron and Harry, never ones to let an opportunity slip by, repeated their 'mic drop' routine, causing McGonagall's lips to twitch in spite of herself. Even Hermione, usually the most serious of the group, couldn't help but chuckle.

Oliver, seeing McGonagall's momentary amusement, grinned and added, "Even though this punishment is for all of us, I think I'll enjoy seeing Malfoy squirm during detention."

McGonagall's expression remained mostly neutral, but her eyes glinted with a hint of approval. "I'm glad you're finding this so entertaining, Mr. Queen," she said dryly. "Just remember, detention or not, your actions have consequences."

Oliver gave a mock salute. "Of course, Professor. Wouldn't dream of causing more trouble."

"Good," she replied firmly, though there was still a slight twinkle in her eye.

McGonagall stood at the door, her arms crossed, her voice stern yet final. "Now, off to bed, you five."

As the group filed out of the classroom, Oliver couldn't help but add a little flourish to his departure. He took a few steps, then jumped in the air, clicking his heels together in midair, and landing with a grin.

Hermione giggled at the sight, shaking her head in amusement.

Once outside, as the others began to disperse, Hermione turned to Oliver and asked, "Can you walk me to my dorm, Ollie?"

Oliver smiled warmly, his eyes lighting up. "Of course, Mia," he replied, his voice soft and inviting.

He gently took her hand, and together, they walked down the hall toward her dormitory. There was a comfortable silence between them, the kind that only close friends share, and for a moment, everything felt right.

Meanwhile, Ron and Harry exchanged a look, their eyes lighting up with mischief. As soon as Oliver and Hermione were out of earshot, Ron gave Harry a sly grin. "He deserves to be happy," Ron said, elbowing Harry. "I'll bet you ten galleons they get together."

Harry chuckled, raising an eyebrow. "You don't even have ten galleons," he teased. "Should I lend you some so you can actually place a bet?"

Ron clutched his chest in mock offense. "That's hurtful, Harry. You're scary, just like Hermione."

Harry burst out laughing as they walked toward their dorm. "I think that's the nicest thing anyone's ever said about me," he said, grinning.

Ron just rolled his eyes, but couldn't suppress his own chuckle. They both knew Oliver and Hermione had something special, even if they weren't ready to admit it yet.

As Harry and Ron made their way back to the dorm, Ron's curiosity seemed to get the better of him. He couldn't stop thinking about the conversation they'd had earlier.

"How much do you want to bet," Ron said, his voice lowered a little, "that Hermione is Oliver's first love and she's the girl the prophecy talks about?"

Harry shot Ron a sidelong glance, raising an eyebrow. "You really think that's what the prophecy means?" he asked, his voice thoughtful. He had been trying to wrap his mind around it ever since he and Oliver had discussed it.

Ron shrugged, his hands stuffed into his pockets. "I mean, it makes sense, doesn't it? They've been close for ages, and with how much she cares about him..." His voice trailed off as he thought about how obvious it seemed to him now.

Harry felt a little knot in his stomach, a mix of feelings that he wasn't entirely sure how to process. But he smiled at Ron, his voice lightening, "I guess it wouldn't be the worst thing in the world if it were true. I think we all know that Oliver's been through a lot, and maybe Hermione's the one to help him move forward."

Ron nodded. "Yeah, but I've got this feeling about it, Harry. I bet ten galleons that Hermione's the girl the prophecy meant."

Harry laughed, shaking his head. "You really like to gamble, don't you? Don't you remember the last time you made a bet? You lost twenty galleons to me over a game of wizard's chess."

Ron groaned. "Don't remind me. But still... I feel like I'm right about this one. They've always had this connection, even if they didn't admit it back then." He gave Harry a mischievous grin. "I'll bet you ten galleons I'm right. You in?"

Harry chuckled, shaking his head. "I'm not betting against you this time. But I guess we'll see what happens, won't we?"

The two of them walked in companionable silence after that, both of them contemplating the growing bond between Oliver and Hermione, and wondering how the prophecy might unfold. One thing was certain—they both knew that the path ahead for their friends, and for themselves, was about to get a lot more interesting.

To be continued...