When Hermione stepped into the library that morning, she immediately noticed the unusually large stack of parchment spread across Ryze's table. Sheets filled with dense calculations were layered one over another, interspersed with several thick, intimidating volumes on Arithmancy. The sight struck her harder than she expected. For a moment, it felt as though a piece of her carefully structured world had tilted out of place.
She had only just begun to find her footing with Ancient Runes and Divination, squeezing in time between her already heavy workload to read introductory texts. Even then, she felt she was barely keeping up. Divination, in particular, had proven frustrating. No matter how carefully she followed the instructions in the books, her results remained inconsistent and often inaccurate. It wasn't a matter she was willing to concede easily—her competitive nature simply refused to accept that she might lack talent in any academic subject.
And yet here was Ryze, who had seemingly leapt ahead once again.
It had only been a few days since she last saw him studying seriously, and now he had already moved on to Arithmancy. At this rate, she wouldn't have been surprised if the next time she saw him, he would be buried in texts about magical creatures.
On second thought, he had already started that as well.
After all, the towering groundskeeper living near the edge of the Forbidden Forest had apparently shared a wealth of knowledge about magical creatures with him. Hermione still found it difficult to believe how effortlessly Ryze seemed to gather information from such unconventional sources.
At that moment, Ryze finished scribbling the final line of a complex formula. He paused, reviewing his calculations carefully, then cross-referenced them with a separate divination method. Only after confirming the consistency of the result did he lean back slightly, satisfied.
Looking up, he noticed Hermione standing nearby.
"Good morning, Hermione," he greeted casually. "Did Harry and Ron not come to the library with you today?"
Hermione adjusted her posture and walked over, pulling out a chair. "Harry has Quidditch practice, and Ron went along to watch," she replied. "Besides, Ron's been getting a bit restless. I thought it would be better to give him some time to relax. If I push him too hard, he won't last until Halloween."
Her tone carried a hint of authority. Recently, the three of them had grown closer, forming what others had already begun calling a trio. Hermione, having won a small wager earlier, had taken it upon herself to act as their unofficial leader. She treated both Harry and Ron as if they required supervision, insisting they complete their assignments in the library before doing anything else.
She glanced at Ryze's table again. "What about your roommates? Are they off practicing dueling magic again?"
Ryze nodded. "Ever since Malfoy avoided that duel, they've been quite dissatisfied. They're trying to revive the dueling culture at the school—something about restoring the honor of wizard duels. Right now, they're probably discussing the idea of reestablishing a dueling club with Professor Flitwick."
"Dueling club…" Hermione murmured, her mind immediately recalling passages she had read.
There had indeed been such a club at the school, with a long and distinguished history. It had once produced many skilled duelists and even maintained a formal system of competitions. However, during a darker period, some students had begun incorporating dangerous magic into their duels. The consequences had been severe enough that the administration had shut the club down entirely and prohibited private dueling among students.
Even now, remnants of those attitudes lingered in certain circles, making the revival of such a club a sensitive matter.
"If it does reopen," Hermione said thoughtfully, "first-year students should be allowed to join as well. I might consider signing up."
She paused, then casually shifted her attention back to the parchment in front of Ryze. "But you've already started studying Arithmancy. From what I've read, it doesn't rely on the same methods as traditional divination, does it?"
Ryze reached for one of the books and handed it to her. "Not exactly," he explained. "While having a natural affinity for divination can help, it's not essential. Arithmancy relies more on mathematical reasoning. In fact, I suspect you might find it quite straightforward."
Hermione raised an eyebrow.
"You can try deriving the first formula in that book," he added. "See how long it takes you."
There was no hint of mockery in his tone—only a calm confidence. It was precisely this manner of speaking that made his words so disarming. He had a way of making even the most daunting challenges sound approachable.
Hermione sat down and opened the book.
Her assignments were already complete, and she saw no harm in spending some time exploring this new subject. If nothing else, she could at least understand what Ryze found so compelling about it.
As she began working through the first problem, her initial skepticism gave way to concentration. The structure of the formulas was unfamiliar, but not incomprehensible. Beneath the surface complexity, there was a clear logical framework—one that resonated with her instincts.
Time passed quietly.
Across the table, Ryze occasionally glanced up, observing her progress without interrupting. He had already spent several days studying Arithmancy and had come to appreciate its potential. It wasn't merely a tool for prediction; it could be used to analyze magical systems, evaluate the feasibility of new spells, and even reverse-engineer ancient forms of magic.
However, he was also aware of his own limitations. His mathematical aptitude was respectable but not exceptional. Without some form of enhancement, advancing too far in this field would be difficult.
That was why Hermione's involvement intrigued him.
If she truly possessed a strong talent for this discipline, then introducing her to it early could be mutually beneficial. He had no desire to monopolize knowledge or compete unnecessarily. On the contrary, he preferred the idea of collaborating with others who shared his interests.
After all, the path of magical research could be a lonely one.
Eventually, Hermione set down her quill.
She reviewed her work carefully, checking each step of her derivation. To her surprise, the result aligned with the example provided in the book.
She looked up.
Ryze gave her a small nod of acknowledgment.
"It seems you've grasped the fundamentals quite well," he said. "Your talent in Arithmancy might actually surpass mine."
Hermione blinked, momentarily taken aback.
"I may need to ask for your help in the future," he added.
There was no exaggeration in his voice—only a straightforward assessment.
For a brief moment, Hermione felt an unfamiliar sense of satisfaction. It wasn't simply pride in her own ability, but something deeper. Ryze's words, though simple, carried a sincerity that made them unexpectedly encouraging.
She closed the book slowly.
Harry and Ron had once mentioned that Ryze had a peculiar way of speaking—one that often left people feeling strangely reassured. At the time, she hadn't fully understood what they meant.
Now, she did.
She made a mental note to try a similar approach with them at some point, though she wasn't entirely sure how effective it would be. Neither Harry nor Ron had yet shown any particular enthusiasm for academic subjects, but perhaps there would come a moment when the right words could make a difference.
For now, however, her attention remained on the book in front of her.
Arithmancy.
It was more structured than Divination, more precise. Instead of vague interpretations, it offered clear relationships and calculable outcomes. For someone like Hermione, who valued logic and clarity, it was immediately appealing.
She turned to the next page.
Across the table, Ryze returned to his own work, but a faint smile lingered on his expression.
The library settled into a comfortable silence, broken only by the soft scratching of quills against parchment. Two minds, each driven by curiosity and determination, continued their exploration—separately, yet not entirely alone.
And though neither of them said it aloud, something subtle had shifted.
A shared path had begun to take shape.
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