Harry Potter: My Life as Hermione’s Houseguest

Monday afternoon.

In the rolling green hills of Wiltshire, England, stood an ancient manor with a thousand years of history. Inside a stately, lavish room, a middle-aged man with meticulously groomed golden hair and impeccable attire sat sipping his afternoon tea.

This was Lucius Malfoy, master of the estate.

Afternoon tea was his sacred ritual—a time for reviewing intelligence reports meticulously compiled by his subordinates.

Today, one particular briefing from the Ministry of Magic's Auror Office caught his eye.

For someone like Lucius, who held an official post at the Ministry and wielded a not-insignificant vote on the school's Board of Governors, obtaining such internal memos was child's play.

What piqued his interest was that this report mentioned a certain place—Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

The moment he saw "Hogwarts," the image of Dumbledore—all silver beard and twinkling eyes—flashed through his mind.

"That old man's been clinging to the Headmaster's seat for far too long. Hasn't he ever considered stepping aside for the next generation?" Lucius had voiced such sentiments more than once, both in private and in less discreet company.

Today's memo read, in essence: Several wizards had reported that their children, students at Hogwarts, had written home about a violent explosion in the Forbidden Forest last Friday night. The school, however, had offered no clear explanation.

A violent explosion, deliberately hushed up—there was trouble brewing, no doubt about it.

Lax discipline, endangering the student body—surely this was the Headmaster's negligence!

Lucius Malfoy, ever eager to see Dumbledore toppled from his post, instantly sensed the value of this tidbit. A slow, satisfied smile curled on his lips.

He rang for his butler. "Any news out of Hogwarts lately?" he inquired, swirling his tea.

"Nothing of particular note, sir…" The butler hesitated, then added, "Though I did hear a small rumor. Someone claimed to have seen Hagrid selling goods in Diagon Alley recently—some rare venom, and parts from dark creatures."

"Venom? Dark creatures? Add the Forbidden Forest explosion to the mix… Well, well, what is our dear Professor Dumbledore up to?" Lucius mused, unable to piece it all together, but more convinced than ever that something was amiss.

In any case, making trouble for Dumbledore was a hobby he never tired of.

He stood, cane in hand. "Contact the other school governors. I believe it's time we sent someone to investigate what's really happening at Hogwarts. Naturally, all for the safety of our young witches and wizards."

…

Time slipped by, and Tuesday arrived.

Qin Yu was in high spirits. Hagrid's trip to Diagon Alley had gone off without a hitch—he'd not only completed the first round of venom sales, but also fetched a handsome price for all those Acromantula arms, legs, and eyeballs. At least, Qin Yu was more than satisfied with the numbers.

The profits were solid, and Qin Yu and the Weasley twins had taken another small step down the road to magical capitalism.

A good start is half the battle, after all.

Full of hope for the future, Qin Yu now found himself at flying class. Madam Hooch had them practicing midair hovering on their brooms, but Qin Yu was content to cruise leisurely through the sky, lost in happy thoughts.

On a whim, he pulled off a daring figure-eight maneuver, savoring the rush of wind and the thrill of flying.

Suddenly, Elvis's anxious voice rang out nearby. "What are you doing? Get away from me!"

Qin Yu glanced over. Several Slytherin boys were circling Elvis menacingly, while the poor kid wobbled on his broom, looking ready to tumble off at any moment.

"Elvis, the sky doesn't belong to your family. We'll fly wherever we like—none of your business," sneered Jerome, his tone dripping with mockery.

"Yeah! We'll do what we want! You can't stop us!" his cronies jeered.

The taunts made Elvis even more nervous; his broomstick shuddered, threatening to buck him off.

Just then—

Crack!

"Ahhh!"

Jerome suddenly yelped, clutching his backside.

"Who hit me?" he shouted, spinning around.

He spotted Qin Yu not far away, wooden sword slung over his shoulder, watching with a faintly amused smile.

Qin Yu hadn't figured out how to fly standing on his sword yet, but he still insisted on bringing it to every flying lesson—a testament to his stubborn, slightly eccentric spirit.

Today, it came in handy. Earlier, he'd scooped up a few pebbles from the ground, then soared back into the air. With perfect timing, he tossed a stone and sent it sailing with a sharp smack of his wooden blade—straight into Jerome's rear.

Seeing the sword and the fresh stone in Qin Yu's hand, Jerome had no trouble guessing who the culprit was.

"Was that you?!" Jerome growled, livid.

"Oops, sorry—didn't mean to. My hand slipped," Qin Yu replied with an innocent grin.

"Hmph! You think a sorry's enough?" Jerome snapped.

"What do you want, then? I said it was an accident. Or do you want to fight me? Just so we're clear, I'm not picking a fight," Qin Yu replied, looking the picture of innocence.

That only made Jerome angrier.

As a Slytherin, Jerome had never liked Qin Yu—especially since the teachers seemed to favor him. Now, being "randomly" attacked by this grinning Gryffindor, Jerome's old and new grievances boiled over.

"You're dead!"

He gripped his broomstick, ducked low, and shot straight at Qin Yu.

His lackeys, eager for trouble, followed suit.

"Qin, watch out!" Elvis cried, voice trembling with worry. Qin Yu had just saved him, and now he was in danger himself—Elvis was both grateful and terrified, tears prickling his eyes.

"Relax. I could use the exercise. Let's play," Qin Yu called back, dropping low and charging to meet Jerome head-on.

Both boys hurtled toward each other at full speed—collision seemed inevitable!

At the last moment, Qin Yu twisted, skimming past Jerome with inches to spare.

As they passed, Qin Yu swung his wooden sword and landed a resounding smack on Jerome's backside.

Crack!

"AAAH!"

Jerome howled, humiliated.

"Qin, I'll kill you!" he shrieked, nearly hysterical.

But over the next five minutes, Jerome didn't get his revenge. Instead, he found himself chased through the sky by Qin Yu, who alternated between close-up swats with his sword and long-range pebble shots.

By the end, Jerome's cronies had fled, leaving him disheveled and yelping in pain.

"Qin, this isn't over!"

"Is that a threat?"

"I'll kill you!"

"All this talk of murder—makes me nervous."

"My father won't let you get away with this!"

"Oh? Who's your dad, the Minister for Magic?"

"Waaah—can you please stop hitting my bum?"

"Give me a good reason."

"I'm sorry! I'll never bully Elvis again! Please, just stop…"

As the minutes ticked by, Jerome's bravado faded, replaced by bluster—and finally, tearful pleading.

"Qin, what do you think you're doing?!" Madam Hooch's voice cut through the chaos.

She'd only stepped away for a moment to arrange Quidditch tryouts. Now, returning, she found Qin Yu chasing Jerome across the sky.

At her words, Qin Yu calmly slid his sword back into its cloth sheath and landed smoothly.

"Professor, we were just playing a game," he said, face as serious as ever.

"No, he was—actually, yes, yes, we were playing a game," Jerome started to protest, but one cold look from Qin Yu changed his mind. Besides, it had started with them bullying Elvis—no one would come out looking good if it went further.

Madam Hooch eyed them both, clearly unimpressed by their innocence.

After a moment, she said coldly, "Disrupting class—ten points from Gryffindor, ten from Slytherin."

Qin Yu sighed. Jerome looked like he'd swallowed a lemon.

Just then, Qin Yu spotted a tall, golden-haired man passing nearby, accompanied by Dumbledore. The snake-headed cane in his hand left no doubt.

It was Draco's father—Lucius Malfoy.

What's that old fox doing at Hogwarts? Qin Yu frowned, suspicion prickling at the back of his mind.

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