Luciscura / Fred Weasley

"That's not how it works."

Hermione Granger's voice was firm, her brown eyes flashing with confidence as she turned toward Lettie.

They were in Transfiguration, Professor McGonagall having just assigned them a complex theoretical problem involving switching spells and partial transfigurations.

The discussion had started civilly. But now?

Now, it was a battle of wits.
—
Lettie leaned back in her chair, calm and composed. "Granger, you're basing your entire argument on a flawed premise. Switching spells don't alter the intrinsic magical properties of an object, only their structure. That's why you can't permanently transfigure a goblet into a live creature—it's not a true transformation, it's an illusion."

Hermione folded her arms. "That's only true if the object doesn't contain inherent magical potential. But if you were to use a magically infused goblet—one charmed to hold sentient energy—you could, in theory, sustain a transfiguration long enough for it to become permanent."

Lettie smiled—sharp, knowing. "An interesting theory, but ultimately flawed. A sentient enchantment is still just that—an enchantment. It mimics life, but it's not truly alive. Which is why, even in historical records, there's no proof of a permanent living transformation without external magical interference. And unless you want to spend your entire life pouring magic into a goblet just to prove a point—" her smirk widened, "—I'd say my argument stands."

Hermione pressed her lips together, clearly searching for a counterpoint.

A few students had begun watching them now, intrigued.

Finally, Hermione sighed, reluctantly conceding.

Lettie didn't gloat, but Theodore smirked from his seat beside her.

"Impressive, Selwyn. I think that's the first time I've seen Granger lose a theoretical debate."

Hermione shot him a look, but before she could retort, Professor McGonagall spoke up.

"Excellent points from both of you. Five points to Slytherin for Miss Selwyn's reasoning, and five to Gryffindor for Miss Granger's well-articulated counterargument."

Hermione still looked mildly displeased, but Lettie merely dipped her head in acknowledgment.

It wasn't personal.

But it was a win.
—
Lettie was heading toward the dungeons when a familiar voice called out.

"Selwyn!"

She turned, unsurprised to see Harry jogging to catch up with her.

Lettie slowed her steps, allowing him to fall into stride beside her.

For a moment, neither of them spoke.

Then, Harry glanced at her. "You really enjoy winning, don't you?"

Lettie smirked. "Would you rather I enjoyed losing?"

Harry let out a short laugh. "No, but I don't think I've ever seen anyone stand up to Hermione in a debate like that."

Lettie raised a brow. "She's not used to being challenged. That doesn't mean she's always right."

Harry tilted his head, studying her.
"You don't think like other Slytherins," he said finally.

Lettie hummed. "You don't think like other Gryffindors."

That made him pause.

Then he chuckled, shaking his head. "You really are something else, Selwyn."

Lettie smirked. "I'll take that as a compliment, Potter."

Harry smiled. "Good. It was one."

They reached the staircase where their paths would diverge.

Harry hesitated, then said, almost casually, "You never answered my question the other night."

Lettie raised a brow. "Which one?"
Harry held her gaze. "Do you believe me? About Voldemort?"

Lettie was silent for a moment.

Then, softly, she said, "I believe in the truth, Potter. And the truth has a way of revealing itself—whether people want to see it or not."

Harry didn't look away.

But this time, when Lettie turned and walked away, he didn't feel like she was avoiding the question.

He felt like she had already given him the answer.