The Max-Level Muggle-Born: Hogwarts Isekai

Waking up the next morning felt like loading a saved game after a corrupted file had forced a system reset. The crimson [FAILED] notification was gone from her UI, but the [LOCKED] status next to the Cerberus whisker objective was a permanent, mocking reminder of her failure. Evelyn sat up in her bed, the green velvet curtains shielding her from the world, and took a slow, steadying breath. The frustration from the night before had cooled into a hard, dense nugget of resolve.

She had been humbled. Now, she had to get smarter.

Maintaining her cover as a quiet, unremarkable first-year was now more critical than ever. Dumbledore was watching. Snape was probably watching. She had to give them nothing to see.

Breakfast in the Great Hall was the first test. The enchanted ceiling showed a bright, cheerful autumn sky, a stark contrast to her mood. She sat at the end of the Slytherin table, methodically eating her toast while scanning the hall. Her gaze lingered on the Gryffindor table. The Trio were huddled together, Ron gesturing wildly with a piece of sausage while Hermione looked on with a long-suffering expression. Harry just seemed tired. Evelyn analyzed them with a new perspective. They weren't just the 'Hero Party' anymore; they were her unwitting key to unlocking the third-floor corridor again. Their progress was now directly tied to her own.

First period was Charms with Professor Flitwick. The tiny professor stood on a stack of books, excitedly explaining the theory behind the Levitation Charm. "Now, don't forget that nice wrist movement we've been practicing! The swish and flick!"

When it was her turn, Evelyn approached the feather on her desk with a new methodology. Before, she had been frustrated by her wand's limitations. Now, she treated it as a data-gathering exercise. She channeled a small, precise amount of magic into the spell. "Wingardium Leviosa." The feather twitched. She increased the power slightly. The feather lifted an inch and then wobbled. A little more. It shot up and then immediately fell. She was finding the breaking point, the exact threshold her shoddy wand could handle before the spell failed. It was no longer a failure; it was calibration.

Next was Herbology in the greenhouses. The air was warm and humid, thick with the smell of damp earth and strange, exotic blossoms. Professor Sprout, a cheerful witch with dirt under her fingernails, was teaching them about Fanged Geraniums. While the other students yelped as the plants snapped at their fingers, Evelyn paid rapt attention. This was direct research.

"Now, most aggressive flora have a weakness, a way to pacify them," Professor Sprout explained, tapping a geranium with her wand, causing its fanged maw to droop. "For some, it's a specific sound. For others, a precise application of pressure."

Evelyn raised her hand. "Professor," she asked, her voice perfectly pitched to sound like a curious student, "what about larger magical plants? Like, hypothetically, a tree that defends itself. Would it also have a specific point of weakness?"

Professor Sprout beamed, delighted by the question. "An excellent query, Miss Evelyn! Indeed! The more complex the plant, the more specific the pacification method. The great moving trees, for instance, often have a single, unique knot or burl near their base. A firm, continuous pressure applied to that exact spot can induce a temporary state of paralysis. A fascinating, though extremely dangerous, field of study!"

Evelyn filed the information away. [New Lore Unlocked: Whomping Willow Weakness]. Her path was becoming clearer.

The afternoon brought Potions, and with it, the full weight of her new debuff.

[DEBUFF ACTIVE: Watched]

Walking into the dungeons, she could feel Snape's eyes on her instantly. It wasn't the general disdain he showed the other students; it was a focused, piercing scrutiny. He watched her select her ingredients. He watched her chop her roots. He watched her stir her cauldron. Every move she made was under a microscope.

Today's lesson was a simple Cure for Boils. She performed the steps with flawless, robotic precision, her movements economical, her technique perfect. She didn't dare do anything to stand out, but her inherent skill made her stand out anyway. Her potion was the exact shade of turquoise the textbook described.

At the end of the class, Snape glided past her desk. He didn't stop, but he spoke, his voice a low hiss meant only for her. "Perfection can be just as suspicious as incompetence, Miss Evelyn. See that you remember that."

He didn't wait for a reply. He just swept away, leaving her with the cold certainty that her 'stealth build' was failing.

That evening, back in the common room, she ignored the usual chatter. She sat by the window, looking out not at the lake, but up towards the castle grounds, where she could just make out the silhouette of the Whomping Willow against the darkening sky. Its branches thrashed violently in the wind, a constant, angry dance.

The Cerberus mission had been a failure of execution. This would be a failure of mechanics if she got it wrong. It was a different kind of boss fight, and after a day spent under the microscope, the danger felt more real than ever. She had the theory. Now, she just needed to survive the practice.