Yes, in Divination class

The next morning, Hermione's embarassment from the prior day had not cooled; it had crystallized into a sharp, cold point of focus - Ginny Weasley. She had cast a spell that made moths eat her clothes, after making remarks about her "know-it-all" tendencies and her cozy friendship with Harry. But a day of nudity around Snape, Fitch, and Dumbledore had been the final straw. The humiliation with was a wound, and Ginny's casual cruelty was the salt rubbed into it. She would not be a victim. She would be the architect of Ginny's embarrassment.

Her search in the library was precise. She bypassed the standard charms section and delved into the Restricted Section, using a note forged in Snape's familiar, spiky script to gain entry. She found what she was looking for in a dusty tome titled Maleficia Minuta: Minor Curses and Their Uses. The spell was Pruritus Indumentarium. It wouldn't cause a rash, merely an unbearable, phantom itching sensation originating from the very fibers of the clothing itself. The book noted with a certain academic glee that the only relief was to remove the afflicted garments.

Divination class was the perfect venue. The air was always thick with the cloying scent of incense and Professor Trelawney's dramatic pronouncements, making it easy to cast a spell unnoticed. As Hermione settled into her stuffy armchair, she watched Ginny laughing with Harry, her red hair a bright flame in the gloom. She waited until Trelawney was in full flow, her eyes rolling back dramatically as she "sensed" a great tragedy.

It was the moment. Hermione subtly pointed her wand under the table, her whisper barely audible. "Pruritus Indumentarium." She aimed it directly at the back of Ginny's school robe.

For a few minutes, nothing happened. Then Ginny's laughter faltered. She shifted in her seat, a small frown creasing her brow. Her hand went to the back of her neck, scratching absently. The scratching became more insistent. She wriggled, pulling at the collar of her robe.

"Something wrong, Gin?" Ron asked through a mouthful of Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Bean.

"My robe... it's itching," she said, her voice tight. She was now scratching her arms, her back, squirming in the plush armchair. The entire class was starting to stare.

Professor Trelawney, who had been droning on about planetary alignments, finally noticed the disturbance. "My dear child, what is all that... agitation? The ethereal plane is sensitive to such earthly writhing."

"It's... I can't... it's my clothes!" Ginny cried, standing up. She was clawing at her back, her face flushed with frustration and embarrassment. The itching was clearly becoming unbearable. With a **** sob, she fumbled with the clasp of her robe and tore it off, throwing it to the floor. But the spell was on all her clothes. Her jumper, her skirt, her tights—they were all sources of torment. She frantically pulled her jumper over her head, kicked off her shoes, and yanked down her skirt, all while the class watched in stunned silence.

Trelawney intoned, her voice full of false sympathy. "To cast off the itchy trappings of the mortal world. I predicted this, you know. A great disrobing was foretold in the tea leaves last Tuesday!"

Finally clad only in her plain white bra and knickers, Ginny stood trembling, tears of humiliation streaming down her face. But the itching hadn't stopped. With a final, **** wail, her hands flew to the clasp of her bra. She unlatched them.

Ron, finally spurred into action, leaped up. "Ginny, stop! Are you mental?" He rushed forward, intending to put a guiding arm around her shoulders and guide her from the room. But his feet, always clumsy, tangled in the discarded pile of her robes. He stumbled forward with a yelp, his hands outstretched to catch himself. Instead of steadying her, he caught her square in the bum, sending her tumbling forward.

Ginny fell directly into Harry. As she landed against his torso, the jolt was enough to dislodge the unclasped bra. It slipped down her arms, revealing one of her large, pale breasts to the entire class, the other pressed right into Harry's face. A moment of stunned silence was broken by a chorus of jeers and laughter from the Slytherin side of the room. Malfoy was practically howling, slapping his knee and pointing.

"Weasley is falling for Potter like the animal she is!" he shrieked.

Ginny, horrified, scrambled off Harry's lap, clutching her hand to her chest. But the itching was severe and relentless, was this what the cruciatus curse felt like? With a sob of pure despair, she ripped off her knickers, standing completely naked and exposed in the middle of the room. Ron's eyes bulged as he saw his sister's bright, strawberry red hair, neatly trimmed to the point that exposed every inch of her pale pussy. He knew he shouldnt look, but his anatomical observation was not lost on a single boy in the room.

The moment the last garment was gone, the itching began to fade, replaced by the crushing weight of her utter humiliation.

Professor Trelawney gasped, a hand flying to her bosom. "Oh, my! The inner eye... it sees all! I knew a great... unveiling... was at hand! The fates have stripped bare the truth, just as you have been stripped bare, my child!"

Ginny let out a choked sob, her hands flying to cover herself. With a final, horrified look at the staring faces of her classmates, she turned and fled, running naked from the room.

Trelawney intoned, her voice full of false sympathy. "To cast off the itchy trappings of the mortal world. I predicted this, you know. A great disrobing was foretold in the tea leaves last Tuesday!"

Hermione allowed herself a small, satisfied smile. She gathered her books and left the classroom, ignoring Trelawney's droning. She walked quickly, not towards Gryffindor Tower, but towards the dungeons. She had already set the second part of her plan in motion. Using a simple charm to forge Dumbledore's elegant script on a note, she had requested Snape's presence in a specific corridor junction to discuss "stricter dicipline."

She found an alcove just around the corner from the intersection. She didn't have to wait long. She heard the frantic, barefoot slapping on stone first, then the sound of sobbing. Ginny came running around the corner, a ****, naked figure, her red hair and pale skin flushed and her arms wrapped around herself. She was heading for the supposed safety of the dungeons.

As she reached the intersection, another figure swept into the corridor from the opposite direction. Professor Snape, his black robes billowing, his face a mask of cold fury. He had been waiting, annoyed at being kept by the Headmaster who had not yet appeared.

Ginny skidded to a halt, freezing like a frightened deer. For a moment, no one spoke. Snape's eyes, black and unreadable, swept over Ginny's naked, trembling form. His lip curled in a sneer of profound disgust.

"Miss Weasley," he said, his voice dangerously soft and dripping with contempt. "I see you are once again flouting the school's dress code. And in a rather... dramatic fashion."

"Professor... I... it was a curse... I couldn't help it!" Ginny stammered, trying to cover herself with her hands.

"A curse?" Snape's voice was laced with acid skepticism. "A curse that compelled you to prance through the castle like a... common strumpet? Ive hesrd that excuse before." His eyes narrowed, and a flicker of recognition crossed his face. "First Miss Granger, and now you. It seems a new, depraved trend is sweeping through Gryffindor Tower. A collective loss of decency. Ten points from Gryffindor for indecency. And another ten for this pathetic excuse. Now, get to my office. Now."

He turned, not waiting for her, but expecting her to follow. Ginny, utterly humiliated and defeated, had **** but to trail after him, naked and shivering, disappearing into the dark mouth of the dungeon corridor.

Hermione watched from the shadows, a cold knot of satisfaction in her stomach. It was done. Ginny had been stripped bare, literally and figuratively. And Snape, the instrument of Hermione's own humiliation, had unknowingly become the instrument of her ****. The balance, she felt, was restored.