A question suddenly popped into Charlie's mind.
Why hadn't his own memory been erased?
[Ahem! Your Majesty doesn't need to remember this servant's good deeds; it's what this servant ought to do.]
The System suddenly popped out.
Charlie didn't have time to deal with its antics, but he understood the general reason.
He was originally a transmigrator, crossing over from another world to this one. The difficulty of this inter-world crossing was far greater than time travel.
The fact that he hadn't been erased by the world's will must be partly due to the System.
Precisely because his soul did not belong to this world, when the temporal correction occurred, everyone else's memories were erased, but his remained intact.
"Principal, is there a way to bring her back?" Charlie looked up.
Dumbledore shook his head:
"I am very sorry, Charlie, I do not know either."
"If time and space have already begun correcting, then this process is irreversible."
"But how time and space will correct themselves, and what the result of that correction will be, no one can know."
Charlie fell silent.
Although he usually complained about Hermione's nagging, when it came down to a situation like this, Charlie could not stand idly by.
Furthermore, a large part of the reason Hermione was so busy was because of his assignments.
If she hadn't been helping him write his assignments, Hermione would not have overused the time-turner.
He was responsible for this matter.
Charlie stood up, his gaze becoming calm. He needed to find her, alive or dead.
"Principal, may I apply for a time-turner?"
Dumbledore shook his head:
"Charlie, the time-turner is strictly restricted by the Ministry of Magic. Hogwarts students can only be approved to use it when their coursework is too heavy and they cannot complete it."
"The time for course selection has long passed now." He paused.
"According to regulations, you cannot apply."
Charlie did not back down:
"But I must save her."
"This makes things very difficult." Dumbledore stood up, walked to the window, and turned his back to Charlie.
"The Ministry of Magic will not take a time-turner out of the Department of Mysteries at this time. Those items are locked in the deepest recesses, and no one is allowed to touch them without a special reason."
He turned around, his blue eyes looking at Charlie through his half-moon spectacles.
"You know the rules of the Ministry of Magic, Charlie," Dumbledore said, blinking his eye, causing a fine wrinkle to appear at the corner of it.
"The door to the Department of Mysteries is only ever open to authorized personnel."
Charlie was stunned for a moment.
Dumbledore added: "Of course, while the protective magic on that door is complex, for certain exceptionally gifted Wizards..." He paused briefly,
"Perhaps it is not entirely impossible to breach. However, as Principal, I absolutely cannot encourage such behavior."
Charlie immediately understood. Who said this old man was the White Wizard King? Wasn't he a little bit dark?
The Department of Mysterieshe was determined to break in...
The moment the time-turner exploded, Hermione subconsciously closed her eyes.
The anticipated pain did not arrive.
She opened her eyes. The library was still the library, the sky outside the window hadn't changed, and the open book on the table remained on the same page.
The only change was that the time-turner in her hand had shattered into golden dust, slipping through her fingers.
"Madam Pince?" Hermione ventured tentatively.
Madam Pince walked past the bookshelf, her gaze sweeping over Hermione without stopping, and continued walking.
Hermione froze. She stood up, walked in front of Madam Pince, and waved her hand in front of her.
There was no reaction.
Madam Pince walked straight past her as if she could not see her, even passing through her outstretched arm.
The feeling was strange; it wasn't a physical collision but an ethereal penetration.
Hermione's breathing quickened. She turned and rushed out of the library, running all the way back to the Gryffindor common room.
the fat lady's portrait was dozing, and Hermione walked right through itshe could actually pass through walls.
In the common room, Harry and Ron were sitting by the fireplace playing chess.
"Harry! Ron!" Hermione rushed up to them.
Neither of them looked up.
"Ron, your Rook is about to be taken," Harry reminded him.
"I see it," Ron stared at the board. "I'm thinking of a counter-move."
Hermione stood in front of them and reached out to grab Ron's chess piece. Her fingers passed straight through the white Knight, just like passing through a puff of air.
She took a step back and bumped into the sofa behind her. But the sofa did not exist for her; she passed right through it and fell onto the floor.
No, she passed through the floor, suspended in mid-air.
Hermione struggled in panic, then realized she could control this state.
She thought about standing on the floor, and her body regained support.
She squatted on the ground, hugging her knees, forcing herself to calm down.
Don't panic, there must be a way. Harry and Ron couldn't see her, but they would eventually realize she was missing.
Then the school would send people to search, Dumbledore would figure something out, and everything would be fine.
Hermione waited in the common room all night.
The next day, Harry and Ron woke up, washed, ate breakfast, and went to class. Throughout the entire process, no one mentioned her name.
The third day, the fourth day, the fifth day.
No one looked for her except Charlie.
No one asked where she had gone. Even Professor McGonagall, who was usually the strictest, did not call her in for a discussion about her absence from class.
The fact that Charlie still remembered her excited her for a moment.
But she quickly realized it was useless; no matter who Charlie mentioned her to, the result was the same.
This made her even more despairing.
Hermione stood among the crowd, watching her classmates pass through her body, listening to them discuss homework, Quidditch, and Hogsmeade Village. No one remembered her.
She wanted to go home.
As soon as the thought arose, the scene before her changed.
Hermione stood in front of a house in the suburbs of London; it was her parents' home. Before she could react to how she had gotten there, she pushed open the dooror rather, passed through the door.
In the living room, her mother was organizing photo albums.
Hermione walked over and looked at the photos in the album. Family portraits, birthday parties, seaside vacations... In every photo, there were only her mother and father; she had vanished.
She hadn't been torn out or scribbled over, but had simply never existed in the first place.
"Mum..." Hermione's voice trembled.
Her mother turned a page and continued organizing.
Hermione knelt on the floor, looking at the photos. She wanted to cry, but tears wouldn't fall. She wanted to scream, but no sound could escape. She wanted to smash something, but her hand passed through the coffee table, the vase, and the photo frame.
This was worse than death.
She could see this world, perceive everything, yet she could not touch, communicate, or prove that she had ever existed.
Hermione did not know how long she had knelt on the floor. By the time she came to her senses, it was already dark.
Charlie.
She suddenly remembered that Charlie still remembered her. Only Charlie had mentioned her name to Harry and Ron.
Hermione closed her eyes, thinking about returning to Hogwarts.
The next second, she was standing in the corridor outside the Principal's office.
"...Principal, may I apply for a time-turner?"
It was Charlie's voice.
Hermione passed through the wall and entered the office.
Charlie stood in front of Dumbledore, his expression serious.
"...The door to the Department of Mysteries is only ever open to authorized personnel," Dumbledore said, blinking his eye.
"Of course, while the protective magic on that door is complex, for certain exceptionally gifted Wizards... perhaps it is not entirely impossible to breach. However, as Principal, I absolutely cannot encourage such behavior."
Hermione stood rooted to the spot, staring intently at Charlie's back.
He was going to the Department of Mysteries. He was going to save her.
She still had hope.
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