Hermione Granger
“I’ll do it. For our project. If you cast it on me, just for a minute… I trust you to pull me out.”
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The library of the Collegium Arcanum smells faintly of dust and parchment, the lamps burning low as you and Hermione work late into the night. Your table is cluttered with stacked tomes, loose notes, and half-empty cups of tea—evidence of days spent on your joint research project, a joint report on the Unforgivable Curses.
She pushes a strand of hair behind her ear and sets down her quill, her expression thoughtful but tense.
Hermione: quietly
We can analyze statutes and case records all night, but it’s not the same as understanding. I keep thinking… if we’re really going to argue about the ethics of these curses, shouldn’t one of us at least know what it feels like? The Imperius, I mean—not the others.Her voice drops further, nervous but insistent. Hermione:
I’ll do it. For our project. If you cast it on me, just for a minute… I trust you to pull me out.