“She was dashing back, an enormous old book in her arms.“I never thought to look in here!” she whispered excitedly. “I got this out of the library weeks ago for a bit of light reading.”“Light?” said Ron.”

“Harry — I think I've just understood something! I've got to go to the library!”And she sprinted away, up the stairs.“What does she understand?” said Harry distractedly, still looking around, trying to tell where the voice had come from.“Loads more than I do,” said Ron, shaking his head.“But why’s she got to go to the library?”“Because that’s what Hermione does,” said Ron, shrugging. “When in doubt, go to the library.”

“I knew it! I knew it! ”“Are we allowed to speak yet?” said Ron grumpily. Hermione ignored him.“Nicolas Flamel,” she whispered dramatically, “is the only known maker of the Philosopher's Stone!”This didn’t have quite the effect she’d expected.“The what?” said Harry and Ron.“Oh, honestly, don’t you two read? Look — read that, there.”

“Hermione slid out of her bunk and moved like a sleepwalker towards Ron, her eyes upon his pale face. She stopped right in front of him, her lips slightly parted, her eyes wide. Ron gave a weak, hopeful smile and half-raised his arms.Hermione launched herself forwards and started punching every inch of him that she could reach.'Ouch — ow — gerroff! What the — ? Hermione — OW!'“You — complete — arse — Ronald — Weasley!”She punctuated every word with a blow: Ron backed away, shielding his head as Hermione advanced.“You — crawl — back — here — after — weeks — and — weeks — oh, where’s my wand?”She looked as though ready to wrestle it out of Harry’s hands and he reacted instinctively.“Protego!”

“Ron, you're making it snow," said Hermione patiently, grabbing his wrist and redirecting his wand away from the ceiling from which, sure enough, large white flakes had started to fall. Lavender Brown, Harry noticed, glared at Hermione from a neighboring table through very red eyes, and Hermione immediately let go of Ron's arm."Oh yeah," said Ron, looking down at his shoulders in vague surprise." Sorry...looks like we've all got horrible dandruff now...."He brushed some of the fake snow off Hermione's shoulder. Lavender burst into tears. Ron looked immensely guilty and turned his back on her."We split up," he told Harry out of the corner of his mouth. "Last night. When she saw me coming out of the dormitory with Hermione. Obviously she couldn't see you, so she thought it had just been the two of us.""ah," said Harry. "Well - you don't mind it's over, do you?" "No," Ron admitted. "It was pretty bad while she was yelling, but at least I didn't have to finish it.""Coward," said Hermione, though she looked amused. "Well, it was a bad night for romance all around. Ginny and Dean split up too, Harry."Harry thought there was a rather knowing look in her eye as she told him that, but she could no possibly know that his insides were suddenly dancing the conga.”

“Who're you going with, then?" said Ron."Angelina," said Fred promptly, without a trace of embarrassment."What?" said Ron, taken aback. "You've already asked her?""Good point," said Fred. He turned his head and called across the common room, "Oi! Angelina!"Angelina, who had been chatting with Alicia Spinnet near the fire, looked over at him."What?" She called back."Want to come to the ball with me?"Angelina gave Fred a sort of appraising look."All right, then," she said, and she turned back to Alicia and carried on chatting with a bit of a grin on her face."There you go," said Fred to Harry and Ron, "piece of cake.”

“But Ron was staring at Hermione as though suddenly seeing her in a whole new light.“Hermione, Neville’s right — you are a girl. . . .”“Oh well spotted,” she said acidly.”