Chapter 2: The Photographic Mind and the Levitation Mishap part-1
The humiliation on Hermione's face was palpable and Harry was avoiding eye contact with her chest area at all costs. It was the perfect start to my new life. The intelligent man inside the fool's body was ready to play.
The atmosphere in the Burrow's kitchen remained thick with a delightful sort of awkwardness, at least for me. For Harry Potter and Hermione Granger, however, the air was heavy with mortification.
Hermione had buttoned her blouse all the way to her chin, a feat that seemed physically uncomfortable given the warm summer weather, while Harry was diligently staring at a spot on the table as if it contained the secrets to defeating Dark Lords.
I, on the other hand, was enjoying a second serving of bacon. The "Flash Your Wife System" was currently quiet, likely processing the data from the earlier incident, but I could feel the lingering satisfaction of the attribute points I had earned.
(Ten attribute points and Photographic Memory,) I mused, chewing slowly. (A potent start. In my previous life, I had to study for weeks to retain complex data. Now, let us see if this body can handle the upgrade.)
I reached out and picked up the book Hermione had dropped earlier: Advanced Defensive Theory. The cover was slightly scuffed from its flight across the room.
"So," I said, breaking the silence and causing both Harry and Hermione to jump slightly. "This is the book you brought for me? It looks rather dense."
"It is," Hermione said quickly, her voice a little higher than usual. "It covers non-verbal spell casting and the theoretical applications of protego shields. I thought... well, I thought since you are technically an adult now, you might want to catch up."
"Catch up?" I raised an eyebrow. "I suppose I have been slacking off for seven years. Let us see."
I opened the book to a random page—page forty-two—and scanned the text. My eyes moved rapidly. It was a strange sensation. The moment my eyes swept over the words, they were stamped into my mind like a digital image. I could see the font, the spacing and the ink blots perfectly in my mind's eye even after I looked away.
I flipped the page. Then another. Then another. In the span of thirty seconds, I had scanned ten pages.
"Ron, you are not actually reading it," Hermione said, her tone shifting from embarrassed to slightly annoyed. "You are just flipping pages. You cannot absorb information that fast."
"Are you certain?" I asked, closing the book with a thud. "Quiz me."
Hermione blinked. "Excuse me?"
"Quiz me," I repeated, leaning back in the chair with a confident smirk. "Page forty-three, third paragraph. It discusses the limitations of the Protego Horribilis charm when faced with physical projectiles."
Hermione looked at Harry, then back at me. She grabbed the book from the table and flipped to the page. Her eyes scanned the text and her jaw slowly dropped.
"He... he is right," Hermione whispered. "It says exactly that."
"Lucky guess," Harry said, though he looked impressed.
"Page forty-five, footnote at the bottom," I continued, tapping my temple. "References a study by Adalbert Waffling regarding the magical resonance of shield charms."
Hermione stared at me as if I had suddenly grown a second head. "Ron... how did you do that? You have never... you hate reading."
"I turned eighteen today," I shrugged, buttering a piece of toast. "Maybe my brain finally decided to wake up. Or perhaps the pigeon that dropped an egg on my head in my dream unlocked my latent potential."
(It is actually the system reward for seeing your underwear,) I thought, suppressing a laugh. (But some truths are best left unspoken.)
Before Hermione could interrogate me further regarding my sudden intellectual awakening, the kitchen door swung open. Molly Weasley bustled in, wiping her hands on her apron.
"Good, you are all finished eating!" she declared. "Since the weather is so nice, I need you three to de-gnome the garden. The gnomes are getting out of hand again. I saw one trying to steal my knitting needles this morning."
"De-gnoming?" Harry asked, looking relieved to have a distraction from the earlier blouse incident. "Sure, Mrs. Weasley. We can help."
"Excellent," Molly smiled. "Go on then. I have other preparations to make for the party tonight."
We headed out into the garden. The Burrow's garden was a chaotic, overgrown paradise of high grass, crooked trees and bushes that rustled with suspicious intent. The sun was high in the sky, casting a golden glow over the scene. It was the perfect setting for a romantic comedy, or in my case, a slapstick comedy with benefits.
"Right," Harry said, rolling up his sleeves. "Let us get this over with. Do we use magic or throw them?"
"Throwing is traditional," I said. "But magic is faster. Just do not blast the cabbages."
We waded into the tall grass. The gnomes were indeed aggressive today. They were small, potato-like creatures with sharp teeth and bad attitudes.
(System,) I thought. (Is there a probability manipulator in this system?)
"Negative," the system replied in my head. "However, the 'Clumsy Aura' generated by your presence increases the likelihood of accidental slips and fabric failures by fifty percent when the target is within five meters."
(Delicious,) I thought.
I watched Hermione. She was determined to prove herself, likely trying to regain her dignity after the breakfast debacle. She had drawn her wand and was stalking through a patch of high ferns.
"Stupefy!" she shouted. A jet of red light shot into the bushes and a stunned gnome flew out, landing with a thud.
"Nice shot," Harry called out from the other side of the garden.
"Thank you!" she replied, turning to smile at him.
At that precise moment, a particularly large and gnarly gnome burst from a hole in the ground directly behind her. This gnome was not fleeing; it was attacking. It latched its gritty little hands onto the hem of Hermione's skirt.
"Get off!" Hermione yelped, spinning around.