Hermione woke up feeling like the entire weight of the Hogwarts library had been dropped on her. Her head throbbed, her stomach churned, and her usual sense of determination was struggling to break through the haze of fatigue. Still, the thought of skipping class—of ruining her perfect attendance record—was unfathomable. So, after swallowing a quick cup of tea and barely touching her toast in the Great Hall, Hermione trudged off to Transfiguration.

Mc.Gonagall’s voice filled the classroom, crisp and authoritative as she explained advanced techniques for human transfiguration. Hermione usually hung on every word, scribbling notes feverishly, but today was different. Her quill scratched sluggishly against the parchment, her handwriting deteriorating into a sprawl of illegible lines.

Midway through the lecture, her exhaustion finally overpowered her determination. Her eyelids grew heavier, blinking slower and slower until—despite her best efforts—she rested her head on her folded arms and drifted off. The bustling chatter of her classmates faded into a dull hum as Hermione slipped into an uneasy sleep.