Harry Potter: The Beast Wizard

Later that evening, as the stars glittered over the spires of Hogwarts Castle and the Gryffindor common room buzzed with first-year chatter, Hermione Granger sat in a quiet corner, poring over Hogwarts: A History for what was likely the third time that week.

She barely looked up as Ron and Harry argued over a game of wizard chess nearby.

Then came the sound.

Tap-tap.

It wasn't from the fireplace, or the door, or even the windows.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

Hermione blinked and turned to see Professor McGonagall's stern silhouette in the entrance of the common room, a rare sight after curfew. The chatter died instantly.

"Miss Granger," McGonagall said, her voice crisp but not unkind. "The Headmaster would like a word with you. If you would come with me, please."

Hermione exchanged a surprised glance with Harry, who mouthed What did you do?

Hermione shook her head and stood, heart fluttering. She hadn't broken any rules—unless over-answering in class counted.

She followed the professor through the dim, echoing corridors, lit only by floating torches. It wasn't long before they reached the spiraling staircase that led to Dumbledore's office.

The stone staircase began to rotate gently upward as they approached. McGonagall stepped aside to let Hermione go first.

The moment she stepped into the office, Hermione's nerves settled slightly. The warmth of the place—the shelves packed with strange books, the silver instruments spinning and humming quietly on their own, the soft hoot of Fawkes the phoenix in the corner—gave the room an almost grandfatherly air.

Behind his wide desk sat Albus Dumbledore, looking exactly as he always did—half-smiling, fingers steepled beneath his long beard. But beside him stood a figure who looked like he'd just lost a staring contest with a house-elf.

Inosuke Hashibira.

Still shirtless.

Still masked.

Still vibrating with barely-contained energy.

"Oh no," Hermione whispered under her breath.

"Miss Granger," Dumbledore said kindly, gesturing to the seat beside Inosuke. "Thank you for coming on such short notice."

"I—I didn't do anything wrong, did I?"

"Not at all," he chuckled. "In fact, I'd say you're here because of how right you've been doing everything."

Hermione blinked, then slowly sat down beside Inosuke, who was currently attempting to balance a quill on the tip of his finger like a dagger.

"Inosuke," she muttered under her breath.

He grunted. "Book girl."

McGonagall gave them both a look before stepping up beside the desk.

Dumbledore leaned forward. "I wanted to speak to you about something that has come to our attention regarding Mr. Hashibira. As you may have already guessed, he comes from a… unique upbringing."

Hermione looked at Inosuke, who was now testing how hard he could stab parchment without tearing it. "You don't say."

"Inosuke is—how shall I put this—remarkably gifted in physical ability, and very courageous, but…" McGonagall hesitated.

"He's illiterate," Hermione finished.

Dumbledore nodded. "Quite so. He cannot read or write, has never studied structured language, and has no concept of basic grammar."

"Or doors," Hermione added. "Or stairs. Or library etiquette."

"YES," Inosuke declared loudly. "These things are weak. I will defeat them with brute comprehension!"

Dumbledore smiled gently. "Which brings us to the favor I wish to ask of you, Miss Granger."

Hermione straightened in her chair.

"I'd like you to become Mr. Hashibira's personal reading tutor. Just an hour each evening. Help him master the basics—letters, words, sentences, perhaps introduce him to the joy of literature—"

"I don't read for joy," Inosuke said proudly. "I read to challenge fate."

"You can't read," Hermione shot back.

"Then I'll fight fate without reading!"

Dumbledore cleared his throat. "I believe, with your intellect and diligence, you may be the only person who can help him adjust without turning every lesson into a duel."

"I don't mind teaching," Hermione said slowly. "But… him? Really?"

"I will be the greatest pupil in Hogwarts," Inosuke declared. "Even if I must slay the alphabet one letter at a time!"

McGonagall sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. "He means well. Usually."

Dumbledore's smile returned. "Would you be willing, Hermione?"

She hesitated. Her evenings were usually packed with reading, planning, and pre-reading the next day's curriculum. But a part of her—probably the same part that couldn't resist organizing shelves or color-coding notes—itched at the challenge.

And then she looked again at Inosuke.

Sitting in the Headmaster's office, still holding the quill backwards, utterly lost but brimming with defiant pride.

He needed help.

No one else would do it.

She sighed. "Fine. I'll do it."

Inosuke pumped his fists in the air. "YES! I KNEW YOU WERE A WORTHY SPARRING SCHOLAR!"

"That's… not a thing," Hermione muttered.

"Your first lesson," McGonagall added dryly, "should probably involve holding a quill the correct way."

Hermione looked at him. "It will."

Dumbledore nodded, looking pleased. "Excellent. Mr. Hashibira will report to the Gryffindor common room after supper each evening. You may conduct the lessons there, or in the library—assuming he doesn't try to challenge the bookshelves to a wrestling match again."

"They fell on me first!" Inosuke barked.

Hermione pressed her fingers to her temple. "I'm going to need a lot of tea."

McGonagall gave her a rare, small smile. "And likely patience. But I trust in your ability, Miss Granger."

As the two students were dismissed and walked out together, Inosuke turned to her as they descended the spiral staircase.

"So, book girl. You will teach me the way of the words?"

"Only if you listen and stop breaking windows."

"Deal." He paused. "But if the words insult me, I will suplex them."

Hermione sighed. "I think I liked it better when you didn't know words."

He grinned behind the mask. "Too late."

And just like that, Hogwarts' strangest student-teacher duo began.

______

The Gryffindor common room glowed with the golden warmth of the fireplace. It was a cozy, circular space filled with squashy armchairs, thick rugs, and the occasional loud explosion of laughter as first-years played games or recounted the day's adventures.

Hermione Granger sat at one of the wooden study tables near the window, books stacked beside her like towers of wisdom. Scrolls of parchment, bottles of ink, and several quills were lined up neatly like a battalion preparing for war.

Because that's what this would be.

War.

"Alright," she muttered to herself, double-checking her prepared scroll: Lesson 1: The Alphabet. Letters A through E. "We'll start simple. Calm, controlled. Just teach him like a normal student."

CRASH.

Inosuke landed in the chair across from her by jumping over the couch.

Hermione didn't even flinch.

"HI!" he barked. "I AM READY TO DEVOUR YOUR KNOWLEDGE!"

"You don't devour knowledge, you learn it."

"I learn by crushing it into my soul."

Hermione pinched her nose and muttered something about 'magical beasts with human faces' under her breath.

"Alright. First—this is parchment. This is a quill. This is ink. You do not drink the ink."

"Is it poison ink?"

"No."

"Coward ink!"

"Inosuke, focus."

She handed him a fresh quill.

"Hold it gently. Like this," she demonstrated, adjusting his grip.

He immediately gripped it like it was a dagger. "I am ready to stab the paper!"

"No stabbing! Gently! Like it's a baby Niffler!"

"…I don't trust baby anything."

Hermione closed her eyes and took a breath. "Okay. Let's start with the alphabet. This is the letter A." She held up a card with a bold, perfectly drawn 'A' on it.

Inosuke leaned forward, eyes narrowing under his boar mask. "It looks like a mountain. I like this one."

"Great," she said, surprised. "Now copy it on your parchment."

He pressed the quill so hard it pierced the paper.

"…Okay," Hermione said tightly, "less pressure."

"More dominance?"

"No, just less violence."

Over the next ten minutes, Hermione guided Inosuke through the first five letters of the alphabet.

A: "Mountain letter."

B: "Looks like two battle drums stacked."

C: "A lazy crescent moon."

D: "Half a shield."

E: "A broken trident."

His descriptions were bizarre, but to her surprise, he remembered them all with freakish accuracy.

She praised him. "Not bad, actually."

"OF COURSE," he shouted proudly. "I AM INOSUKE, MASTER OF THE LANGUAGE WARS."

"Don't get ahead of yourself. You just wrote 'ABDEC.'"

"Is that a new spell?"

"No, it's just wrong."

He growled and redid it. "AB—uh—mountain, drums, moon, shield, trident."

Hermione sighed. "Close enough."

He sat back and stretched his arms, knocking over a bottle of ink and causing several nearby Gryffindors to dive for cover.

"Oops," he said. "The ink chose death."

Hermione cleaned it with a flick of her wand. "Okay, let's try simple words next. 'Cat.' Sound it out. C… A… T."

Inosuke squinted at the page.

"Kuh… ah… tuh… CAAT! I KNOW WHAT THAT IS! THAT'S A SCRATCHY THING!"

He drew a picture of a creature with too many legs and one enormous fang.

Hermione leaned over and stared. "That's not a cat."

"It is when it's angry."

"Okay. New word: 'Boar.' Let's sound it out."

Inosuke sat bolt upright. "My word!"

"Yes. B… O… A… R."

"Battle drums, eye, mountain, shield!"

"…You mean B-O-A-R?"

"Exactly!"

To her surprise, he actually wrote it down correctly.

Hermione stared at the page, blinking. "That's… perfect."

"I AM the wordsmith!"

She smirked. "Let's try a sentence. 'I am a boar.' Can you write that?"

Inosuke grabbed the quill, scribbled furiously for a moment, then presented the parchment with a grand flourish.

It read: "I ham a bor."

Hermione nearly spit out her tea. "You're… getting there."

"I knew there was ham involved!"

She stifled a laugh and corrected the letters gently, then helped him try again.

Ten minutes later, they had a passable "I am a boar."

"You're learning," she admitted.

"I learn FAST. Tomorrow, I'll write a spell!"

"Let's stick to 'dog' and 'hat' first."

He leaned in. "Can I fight the word 'hat'?"

"It's not a living thing, Inosuke."

"But what if it insults me again?"

Hermione groaned and rubbed her temples. "This is going to be a long year."

Still, despite herself, she smiled as he began doodling angry letters fencing each other.

Because maybe, just maybe, the wildest boy in Hogwarts could be tamed—not by force, but by patience.

And maybe the smartest girl in Hogwarts would learn something from him too.

A/N

[Power Stone Please]