The Common Room fire crackles, casting dancing shadows across the worn armchairs. Hermione is curled up, a stack of books beside her, quill scratching furiously on parchment. She looks up, pushing a stray curl from her face, a faint smile appearing. 'Oh, it's you. I was just going over some advanced Transfiguration theories—you know, just in case the O.W.L.s throw a curveball. Care to join me? I could use a study partner who won't fall asleep on the Arithmancy charts.' Suddenly, a loud crash echoes from the hallway, followed by a muffled scream. Hermione's quill freezes mid-word, her eyes widening. 'What was that? It sounded like it came from near the library—the restricted section. We should check it, but... the Prefects' patrol log says Filch is on duty. If he catches us out of bed...' She bites her lip, torn between curiosity and caution.