Shrimp Steamed Egg
Of course, Hermione didn't tell anyone, not even Harry and Ron, about helping Fred and George detect the safety of the prank product.
It's not that she cares much about her reputation as a good student, but if Harry and Ron find out, those two guys will definitely say that she is eccentric again.
The fried banana pancakes in that dessert shop were unexpectedly delicious. The brothers discussed with her the ingredient content and side effect index of Jumping Candy and other undetermined products, and promised to send the data to her before the official sale. She looked over. As long as she promises to help with a few complex testing spells.
The pistons of the engine hissed loudly, and the steam train in the waiting hall started.
"Tell us what happened to Hogwarts!" Ron yelled out the window - Mrs. Weasley, Bill and Charlie were hurrying away. "What did they change the charter?"
But Mrs. Weasley just smiled and waved at them.
Hermione followed Harry and Ron back to their box, where Fred and George had loaded all her luggage onto the luggage racks.
The dense raindrops crackled on the glass windows, making it difficult to see the scenery outside.
Ron opened his trunk, pulled out his maroon dress robe, and put it over the pig's cage, which squealed too loudly.
"Bagman would love to tell us what happened at Hogwarts," he said gloomily, sitting down beside Harry. "At the World Cup, remember? But my own mother wouldn't tell."
In the afternoon, some friends came to visit them, Seamus, Dean and Neville. After only a few minutes, Hermione grew tired of their endless Quidditch chatter and was back to reading Side Effects of the Latest and Most Complete Edible Magic Products.
She skillfully put the book cover of "Standard Spells, Level 4" on it, and pretended to be practicing a summoning spell in a low voice.
The start-of-school dinner was still so splendid, and today it was decorated a lot. Hundreds of candles floated above the table, illuminating gold plates and goblets. The four long college tables were nearly full.
Hermione followed Fred's gaze, following her blank gaze. He waved his hand, with a bright smile on his face, shaking a piece of charcoal-grilled chicken leg in his hand, sticking out the tip of his tongue, pretending to lick it exaggeratedly.
Hermione's mouth twitched, pretending not to see him.
"There are lamb chops tonight." After being seated, Ron quickly started a lamb chop tornado on the plate.
On the day when the Beauxbatons and Durmstrang delegations arrived, the whole school dismissed classes half an hour early to hold a welcome party for them.
Beauxbaton's veela-like girl and Durmstrang's Quidditch star caused a huge stir throughout the school. The boys stared at the Veela-like girls drooling with dementia, and the girls were crying for Klum's autograph.
It was so boring.
thought Hermione disdainfully. Ron's eyes on the opposite side were almost glued to him, and even Harry couldn't help but look up a few more times.
"Would you like to try this?" Fred stretched out his long arms, pushed over a small bowl of steamed eggs with fresh shrimps, and said with a smile, "Anyway, they are all in a state of dementia now, and if no one eats it, it will be a waste. "
Hermione watched the orange-yellow shrimp embedded in the milky white steamed egg, raised her hand and took a small bite with a small silver spoon.
It melts in the mouth, fresh and sweet.
She stuck out her tongue and licked the umami-stained lips, and suddenly found that the hazel pupils shining with dark blue were looking at herself with interest.
"It tastes even better than fried banana pancakes."
Fred almost laughed out loud, and walked around Ginny to rub Hermione's long, shaggy hair.
Hermione quickly pretended to look away.
On Saturday morning, many people were wandering around the Goblet of Fire.
By the time Hermione arrived at the foyer of the auditorium, there was already a large group of people gathered around the Goblet of Fire, gnawing on the whole wheat bread for breakfast, while staring intently at the Goblet of Fire.
The Goblet of Fire stood in the middle of the hall, on the same stool where the Sorting Hat usually stood. A thin circle of gold was drawn on the floor, ten feet in radius, enclosing the cup.
"Anyone put their names in?" Ron asked eagerly of a third-year girl.
"Yes, Durmstrang's gang," she replied, "but haven't seen anyone from Hogwarts yet."
"Someone must have put their name in it while we were sleeping last night," said Harry. "I would have done it... and didn't want people to see it. If the cup crumpled up your name and threw it out, then What a shame!"
Someone behind Harry laughed.
Hermione followed everyone around and looked back to see Fred, George and Lee Jordan hurrying down the stairs, all three looking extremely excited.
"There," Fred whispered triumphantly to Harry, Ron, and Hermione, "all set."
"What?" Ron asked.
"Aging agent, fool," said Fred.
"One drop each," said George, rubbing his hands together happily. "We've only got a few more months to grow."
"If one of us wins, the thousand Galleons will be divided equally between three people." Lee Jordan said with a huge smile on his face.
"I don't think it will be successful." Hermione had already sat down on the long chair at this time, with the open book lying on her lap. "I'm sure Dumbledore must have considered this."
Fred and George looked at each other and crouched down on either side of Hermione.
"Fred, it seems that Hermione doesn't quite believe our real level." George smiled and spread his hands to Fred.
"It's okay." Fred on the other side was closer to Hermione, the bridge of his nose almost touching the strands of her hair. "She will see it soon."
Hermione, who was looking at George, didn't know it. Hearing the sneer, she turned her head and was about to argue with him, only to find Fred's face infinitely enlarged in front of her eyes.
"……"
As if observing him so closely for the first time, Fred narrowed his narrow eyebrows, his hazel pupils reflected a light blue soft halo, and looked at Hermione with a smile at the moment.
Hermione forgot what she was about to retort.