There was a long silence occurred after Hermione’s testimonial. Ron didn’t know what to say because Hermione was right. She was always right. Being a clever lady and all. That was the basis he liked her; that was the reason why sometimes he hated her. He scowled at Hermione while leaving them and approached his pasta.
He looked down at the boiling pot of pasta, preoccupied about what his girl-best friend had said. She was right, he thought, if Harry can defeat Death Eaters and all he should handle this situation by himself. He bit his lip, smelling something aflame.
It was his pasta! He ran his hands down at the knob of the stove, trying turn off the heat. Instead, he felt his left hand on fire. He gasped and used his right hand to switch the range off. He ran towards the sink and used cold water to mend his smoldered hand.
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