Chapter 26: The Remembrall and the Salted Plum Candy
In the early morning, the windows of Ravenclaw Towerwere covered in a thin layer of mist. When Rhys woke up, he found Anthony already sitting by the bed, his feet dangling in mid-air, with an expression on his face as if he were headed to an execution ground.
"Morning," Rhys said, sitting up and rubbing his eyes.
Anthony turned his head, his face somewhat pale. "Rhys, I didn't sleep well last night."
"Nervous?"
"It's not nerves," Anthony swallowed, his voice changing pitch. "It's fear. Oh gods, I'm actually afraid of heights."
Rhys paused for a moment.
"I fell out of a tree when I was a kid," Anthony said muffledly, burying his face in his hands. "Ever since then, as long as my feet are more than a meter off the ground, my legs start shaking. We have Flying Class today; it looks like I'm doomed."
Rhys looked at him and sighed. There really wasn't any good way to immediately overcome a fear of heights. He thought for a moment, rummaged through the drawer of his nightstand, and pulled out a small iron box. Opening it, he revealed a small pile of brown candies neatly arranged inside.
"Try one of these."
Anthony looked up at the candies. "What are these?"
"Sour Plum Candies," Rhys said, pressing two into his hand. "I came up with the flavor myself and had the house-elves at home make them. My family sends me a small bag by owl every once in a while."
Anthony put one in his mouth skeptically, and his eyes immediately lit up. "Sweet and sour? And a little... salty?"
"Yeah, the taste of sour plums. It can help soothe your emotions; give it a try."
With the candy in his mouth, Anthony's expression indeed relaxed a bit. He patted Rhys on the shoulder. "Good buddy, I appreciate the gesture. Although my legs will probably still shake, having this candy makes me feel much better inside."
Rhys handed him another one. "Save it to eat before class."
"You're truly my lifesaver," Anthony said solemnly as he tucked the candy into his pocket. Then, he rummaged through his trunk and pulled out a small bottle. "By the way, is this that Tooth-protecting Potion you mentioned yesterday? I must have put it in the wrong place while I was packing."
Rhys took it and looked at the label—it had 'Tooth-protecting Potion, one drop every night before bed' written on it in delicate handwriting. It was his grandmother's writing.
"Yes, that's it. My grandmother specially brewed it, fearing I'd ruin my teeth eating candy."
Anthony marveled, "Your grandmother really thought of everything."
After the two finished washing up and changed into their robes, they walked out of the dormitory. Yarnball was still fast asleep on the shelf. Rhys left it some owl treats and went downstairs with Anthony.
In the common room, Cho Chang was discussing something with a few girls. When she saw them, she waved. "Morning! Going to breakfast together?"
"Let's go," Rhys nodded.
Cho walked over quickly and scanned Anthony's face. "What's wrong? Didn't sleep well?"
"Fear of heights," Anthony said listlessly.
Cho paused for a moment, then showed a look of understanding and didn't ask further.
The three of them walked down the spiral staircase, through several corridors, and arrived at the entrance of the Great Hall. The hall in the morning was busier than usual; with plenty of time, everyone was eating quite leisurely.
As soon as Rhys stepped into the Great Hall, he saw Neville Longbottom standing by the Gryffindor table, holding a fist-sized crystal ball. The ball shimmered with a faint luster in the morning light, and something seemed to be flowing inside it.
"Neville?" Rhys walked over.
Neville looked up, his round face filled with confusion. The crystal ball in his hand slowly turned red, as if a small lamp had been lit inside.
"Rhys!" Neville greeted him, then looked down at the ball in distress. "My grandmother sent me a Remembrall. She said that if I forget something, it will turn red. But..."
He held the ball up; the red inside was growing deeper.
"But I don't remember what I've forgotten."
Rhys and Anthony exchanged a look. Anthony shrugged, indicating he had no idea either.
Rhys looked at Neville—his clothes were on properly, he was wearing shoes and socks, and he had his timetable in his hand...
"Is it possible you forgot to put on your robes?" Rhys pointed to their surroundings.
Neville looked down at himself, then up at the passing Gryffindor students. Most of them were wearing shirts and sweaters like Neville, but the other students were all wearing their robes.
At Hogwarts, the early mornings were indeed quite cold.
Neville froze for a moment, then suddenly slapped his forehead. "My robes! I left them in the dormitory!"
He scratched his head sheepishly and laughed. The Remembrall in his hand slowly turned back to a transparent color.
"Thanks, Rhys! You've been a huge help!"
Before Rhys could speak, a hand suddenly reached out from the side and snatched the Remembrall out of Neville's hand.
"Let me see what this is."
Malfoy's pale, pointed face appeared behind Neville. He held the Remembrall, turning it over to inspect it, with his usual contemptuous smirk on his lips.
"A Remembrall? Longbottom, if you can't even remember your own business, what use are you?"
Harry and Ron leaped up from the table, Harry's face flushing red. "Malfoy, give it back!"
Ron went as far as rolling up his sleeves. "Are you looking for a fight?"
Malfoy dodged, taking a step back, just as he was about to say something—
The Remembrall in his hand was gone.
Malfoy froze, looking down at his empty hand. He looked up to see Rhys standing beside him, holding the Remembrall.
Rhys handed the ball back to Neville, then turned to face Malfoy.
"Cousin," he began, his voice not loud but enough for everyone around to hear. "Don't be like this. Where is your noble upbringing?"
Malfoy's lips twitched as if he wanted to argue.
Rhys tilted his head slightly, gesturing toward the staff table. "The Professors are watching this way, too."
Malfoy followed his gaze—Professor McGonagall was sitting at the staff table, her fork frozen in mid-air, staring over her square spectacles with an expression so stern she looked ready to stand up and deduct points at any moment.
Malfoy's face went pale, then red. He gave Rhys a fierce glare, but the look in his eyes was more of humiliation from being publicly called out than actual anger.
"Hmph," he swept his sleeves and turned away, muttering, "Come on, back to our own table."
Goyle and Crabbe followed behind like two clumsy lackeys.
Neville clutched the Remembrall, staring blankly at Rhys. "Thank you... three times."
"It's nothing," Rhys nodded, patted Anthony on the shoulder, and turned toward the Ravenclaw table.
Ron's voice came from behind, carrying a hint of resentment. "Slytherins are all bad news. And that Rhys—he's Malfoy's cousin, so he's probably the same."
"He is not!" Neville protested, unusually loud. "He's helped me three times! He even just got my Remembrall back for me!"
Hermione's voice also rang out, sharp and cutting. "Weasley, you can't even cast a Levitation Charm, and you have the nerve to talk about others? At least Rhys can help Neville; what can you do besides looking for a fight?"
Ron was left speechless, muttering a few words as his voice grew smaller and smaller.
Rhys didn't look back.
He sat down at the Ravenclaw table, and Anthony and Cho followed suit. Anthony handed him a glass of pumpkin juice and whispered, "That move just now was really cool; I didn't even see how you took it."
"Just fast movements," Rhys took a sip from his glass.
Cho sat across from him, resting her chin in her hand as she looked at him with a hint of a smile. "You called him 'Cousin'? He didn't seem very happy about it."
"He doesn't like being lectured in public," Rhys said. "But he likes being targeted by Professors even less. So, he had no choice but to leave."
Cho nodded thoughtfully. Anthony had already started piling bacon and fried eggs onto his plate, his anxiety about heights seemingly pushed to the back of his mind for the moment.
Rhys cut into the fried egg on his plate, his peripheral vision catching the Gryffindor table. Harry was looking at him with a gaze full of both scrutiny and curiosity.
Their eyes met across the room.
Rhys gave a slight nod and looked away, continuing to chat with Anthony about their Astronomy Class homework.
"I keep thinking I drew the positions of Jupiter's moons wrong last night," Anthony said in distress.
"You drew them correctly, but the labeling order is wrong. Io is closest to Jupiter, Europa is second; you got those two swapped."
"Really? What about Ganymede and Callisto?"
"Ganymede is third, and Callisto is the furthest. Remember this order, and you won't get it wrong again."
Anthony pulled out his notebook and recorded it diligently. Cho listened from the side and couldn't help but lean in to ask a few questions about star chart labeling. Rhys answered them one by one, and the three of them had a pleasant conversation over breakfast.
The Great Hall gradually became livelier as students from all houses discussed today's Flying Class. Some were excited, some were nervous, and some, like Anthony, had 'I'm doomed' written all over their faces.
Rhys leaned back in his chair, looking at the sky outside the window. The Scotland sky was gloomy, with low-hanging clouds, and occasionally a few owls flew by, likely delivering Sunday newspapers.
He thought about what would be taught in today's Flying Class—it was said that Madam Hooch was very strict but also very professional. He wondered if he could learn any useful techniques.
"Rhys," Anthony's voice pulled him back. "Do you think... I'll have a nasty fall in Flying Class?"
Rhys glanced at him and pushed the box of Sour Plum Candies toward him. "Have another one."
Anthony took one with extreme gratitude and popped it into his mouth; his expression instantly smoothed out significantly.
Cho looked at the box of candies and asked curiously, "What are these? They smell so fragrant."
"Sour Plum Candies," Rhys handed her one. "Try it."
Cho took it and put it in her mouth, her eyes lighting up. "Sweet and sour! And a tiny bit of saltiness—how unique! Where did you buy them?"
"Homemade," Rhys said. "If you want, I'll have my family send more next time."
Cho nodded with a smile.
A rift appeared in the clouds outside, and sunlight spilled in, falling onto the Ravenclaw table. Rhys looked at the dancing spots of light and suddenly felt—
This was exactly how days at Hogwarts should be.
Having friends, schoolwork, and peaceful breakfast times.
As for the things hidden in the shadows—whether it was the Philosopher's Stone, Snape's stare, or Dumbledore's gaze—
That could wait for later.
Chapter 27: The Price of Flying
At half past three in the afternoon, the sun finally peeked out from behind the clouds.
The first-years hurried down the stone steps in front of the Castle and onto the wide lawn. The November wind carried the dampness of the lake, making everyone's robes flutter behind them.
"Oh god, oh god, oh god..." Anthony walked beside Polaris, muttering to himself, his face even paler than it had been in the morning. "Do we really have to fly? Can't we just walk on the ground? I think walking is perfectly fine. Why do humans need to fly?"
Polaris patted his shoulder without saying anything. For something like a fear of heights, words of comfort were useless.
On the lawn, Flying Broomsticks were lined up in neat rows. Polaris walked closer and took a look, sighing inwardly.
These brooms were far too old. The lacquer on the handles was peeling and mottled, the twigs at the tail were sticking out in all directions, and some were even held together with wire to fix loose branches. One broom's handle was clearly bent, and another had lost more than half of its tail, looking like a molting old hen.
"These are the brooms the school provides?" Anthony's voice sounded even more desperate. "Can these even fly? Won't they fall apart once they're in the air?"
A Hufflepuff girl nearby also looked worried. Only a few Gryffindor boys—especially Ron—were looking at the brooms with excitement, itching to mount them immediately.
Polaris stood by a broom, not in a hurry to reach out. He noticed Harry was also standing near the back, his green eyes fixed on the brooms with an expression of both anticipation and nervousness.
"Quiet!" a sharp voice called out from ahead.
Madam Hooch strode over. She had short, grayish-white hair, a pointed chin, and yellow eyes as sharp as a hawk's. She wore dark robes with a belt around her waist, looking crisp and capable.
"Well, what are you all waiting for?" she snapped. "Everyone stand beside a broom! Quickly!"
The students scrambled to disperse, each finding a broom to stand by. Polaris was positioned slightly to the left of the middle, with Anthony beside him and Harry a few people away to his right.
Madam Hooch walked to the front of the line, hands on her hips.
"Stick out your right hand and place it over your broom."
Polaris did as instructed. Anthony reached out tremulously, his fingers shaking.
"And then—" Madam Hooch's voice echoed across the lawn, "Say, 'Up!'"
"Up!" dozens of voices shouted unevenly.
The broom at Polaris's feet jumped up instantly and snapped cleanly into his right hand, the handle resting steadily against his palm.
Beside him, Anthony's broom just rolled once on the ground and didn't move. Anthony's face grew even paler.
Hermione's broom rolled around a few times on the ground but simply wouldn't jump into her hand. She stomped her feet in frustration: "Up! Up!"
Harry's broom also jumped into his hand at the first "Up," even faster than Polaris's. Neville's broom didn't budge at all, and his face turned red with anxiety. Over by Malfoy, the broom reached his hand quickly, and he shot a smug look toward Harry.
Madam Hooch walked up and down the line, correcting the students' hand positions.
"Your hand is too low—the broom won't listen to you that way. Bend your wrist slightly; don't just press down with your whole palm—"
She helped Anthony adjust his posture. Anthony took a deep breath and shouted "Up" again. The broom finally wobbled and jumped up; he caught it clumsily, nearly hitting his own nose.
"All right." Madam Hooch returned to the front and scanned the group. "Now, wait for my whistle. Three—two—one—kick off hard from the ground! Just rise a few feet, then lean forward slightly and descend slowly back to the ground. Is that clear?"
"Clear," came a few scattered voices.
Madam Hooch put the whistle in her mouth—
"Three—two—"
Neville's broom suddenly went out of control.
Polaris only saw Neville shoot upward, catapulting like a champagne cork. His broom completely disobeyed him, a puff of gray smoke erupting from its tail as it carried him vertically up, straight into the sky.
"Mr. Longbottom! Come back!" Madam Hooch shouted.
But Neville had no control at all. He gripped the broom handle for dear life, his face deathly pale. His screams drifted down from above, getting further and further away. His figure grew smaller and smaller until he was a blurry Black speck, swaying in the grayish-white sky.
The students on the lawn were stunned, staring up with their heads tilted back.
Then, the Black speck began to grow larger.
Neville plummeted straight down from the heights, falling as fast as a stone. His robes billowed in the wind, flapping loudly, and his screams pierced the sky, so sharp they made one's heart tighten.
"He's falling!" Hermione shrieked.
Madam Hooch had already drawn her wand, but she was too far from where Neville was going to land—
Polaris moved.
He pulled his wand from his robe pocket, moving faster than he could even think. He aimed his wand at the rapidly falling figure, the incantation bursting from his lips—
"Wingardium Leviosa!"
Golden light shot from the tip of his wand, spreading into a soft curtain of light beneath Neville. The speed of the fall slowed abruptly, and Neville was gently and slowly lowered to the ground as if held by an invisible hand.
A few seconds later, he lay on the grass, motionless.
Madam Hooch was the first to rush over, kneeling to check on him. She peeled back Neville's eyelids and checked his pulse and limbs.
"No broken bones, and no obvious external injuries." She looked up at Polaris, her sharp yellow eyes full of approval. "Mr. Black, very quick reflexes. The Levitation Charm was perfectly timed—if it had been a second later, or a bit weaker, Mr. Longbottom wouldn't have been so lucky."
She stood up and nodded to Polaris: "Ten points to Ravenclaw. Very impressive."
The students on the lawn looked at each other; some whispered, while others still stared at the sky, seemingly unable to believe Neville had been saved just like that.
Madam Hooch picked up Neville. His face was still very pale, but his breathing was steady; he had simply fainted from fright. "I'm taking him to the Hospital Wing." She scanned everyone, her voice turning stern. "No one is to move until I return! And absolutely no riding brooms! If I find anyone flying without permission—"
Her gaze swept across every face like a blade.
"—you'll be expelled."
She strode toward the Castle with Neville in her arms, quickly disappearing at the end of the stone steps.
The lawn was quiet for a few seconds.
Then Malfoy laughed.
"Did you see that big oaf's face?" Something had appeared in his hand at some point—Neville's dropped Remembrall, which he was now fiddling with. "It's a pity he didn't break his arm. Then we could've seen how Madam Pomfrey sets bones."
Harry's face turned bright red. "Give it here, Malfoy! That's Neville's!"
Malfoy tossed the Remembrall into the air and caught it, a punchable smirk on his face. "Come and get it yourself then, Potter."
He suddenly mounted his broom and kicked off, soaring into the air. The broom carried him in a low-altitude circle, the Remembrall dangling in his hand.
"Come on! Get up here!"
Polaris frowned.
He watched Malfoy's smug display in the air, then saw Harry already mounting his broom, his face full of rage.
This troublesome cousin of mine.
Polaris mounted his own broom. The moment he gripped the handle, a thought flashed through his mind.
[System,] he asked internally, [If I join the Quidditchteam early like Harry, will it help unlock abilities?]
The System's voice sounded cold and clear in his mind—
[Yes. Participating in key plot points of the original story is a core condition for unlocking abilities. Quidditch is a major plotline; deep involvement can accelerate the unlocking of related abilities.]
Polaris asked no more. He kicked off, and the broom carried him into the sky.
Wind rushed into his ears, and his field of vision instantly widened. Malfoy wasn't flying very high, just circling over the lawn, the Remembrall looking like a toy in his hand. Harry chased him from the other side, reaching for it, but Malfoy always managed to dodge just in time.
"You can't reach it, Potter!" Malfoy laughed.
Polaris cut in from the side, his broom tracing a smooth arc as he intercepted Malfoy directly.
Malfoy was startled and instinctively tried to turn, but Polaris had already reached out—
"Cousin."
Before Malfoy could react, the Remembrall was snatched from his hand. Polaris weighed the ball in his hand, then looked at Harry, who was rushing over from the other side.
"Catch."
He tossed the Remembrall to Harry. Harry caught it, stunned for a moment, then nodded.
Malfoy's face turned bright red. "You—Polaris! You're helping an outsider!"
Polaris didn't answer; he simply steered his broom to begin descending. Malfoy followed huffily, muttering curses, but didn't dare do anything else.
Harry also landed.
Just as the three of them stepped onto the ground, a cold voice came from the direction of the Castle:
"Mr. Potter. Mr. Black."
Professor McGonagall stood there, arms crossed, her expression like the sky before a storm. Her lips were drawn into a thin line, and her eyes behind her square glasses were practically spitting fire.
"What were you just doing?"
Malfoy had already slipped away, faster than anyone. Goyle and Crabbe followed suit.
Harry stood where he was, still clutching the Remembrall, his lips moving but no words coming out.
Professor McGonagall's gaze moved from him to Polaris, her expression becoming even more complex.
"Mr. Black." Her voice was low, but every word hit like a hammer. "You have always been an excellent student. I thought you knew the school rules—flying without permission when Madam Hooch explicitly forbade it, is this what you think a Ravenclaw student should be doing?"
Polaris kept his eyes down and didn't offer an excuse.
Professor McGonagall watched him for a few seconds, then turned to Harry: "Follow me, Potter."
She turned and walked toward the Castle, her pace quick and urgent. Harry followed with his head down, clutching the Remembrall tightly.
The people on the lawn watched their retreating figures, whispering. Ron's voice was the loudest: "This isn't fair! Why only punish Harry? Polaris flew too, didn't he?"
Hermione rolled her eyes at him. "Didn't you see Polaris went up to help? If it weren't for him, who knows where Malfoy would've thrown that Remembrall."
"So what? He still flew!" Ron said stubbornly.
Anthony stood beside Polaris and patted his shoulder. "Ignore him. You did the right thing."
Polaris shook his head. "It's fine."
He glanced in the direction Harry had disappeared and put his broom back in its place.
---
Before dinner, Polaris was called away by Professor Flitwick.
He walked down the corridor to the door of the Charms classroom. The door was open, and Professor Flitwick's high-pitched, excited voice drifted out.
"Ah, Mr. Black! Come in, come in!"
Professor Flitwick had to stand on a pile of books to peek out from behind his desk. His small face was full of smiles, his eyes were twinkling, and he was clutching a piece of parchment.
"Professor McGonagall just came to see me." He said, his voice carrying an irrepressible excitement. "She told me you showed extraordinary talent in Flying Class—quick reflexes, strong control, and very calm in the air."
Polaris stood there, not knowing what to say.
"Professor McGonagall rarely praises people." Professor Flitwick winked. "She said your flying skills are not at all like a first-year's—of course, your family is the manufacturer of Star-Swirl Brooms, so you've been flying since you were little, right?"
Polaris nodded.
"So—" Professor Flitwick jumped down from the pile of books and trotted to the door. He pulled it open, and a tall boy was standing outside, holding a list.
"Black, this is the captain of the Ravenclaw Quidditchteam, Roger Davies. He's in his fifth year and is the team's Chaser."
Roger Davies had short, dark brown hair and sharp features; he looked like the type of person who was in charge on the pitch. He looked Polaris up and down, his gaze scrutinizing.
"Professor McGonagall recommended you." He said, his tone direct. "Professor Flitwick says you're good too. But I need to see for myself."
"I'll arrange a trial." He paused. "But I'll tell you now, the team isn't looking for a Chaser—it's a Beater. Are you willing to try out?"
Polaris barely hesitated: "I am."
Roger nodded, the corners of his mouth curling slightly. "Then it's settled. The trial is next week; I'll notify you of the specific time."
He turned and left, his footsteps fading down the corridor.
Professor Flitwick rubbed his hands together, grinning from ear to ear. "Excellent, excellent! Ravenclaw finally has some fresh blood! Mr. Black, I knew you'd go far!"
Looking at the Professor's excited face, Polaris suddenly found it a bit amusing.
When he flew up today, he was actually taking a gamble—gambling on Professor McGonagall's love for Quidditchand her fairness as Deputy Headmistress.
And the result—
As he had hoped, he became a Beater.
He walked out of the Charms classroom and headed down the corridor toward Ravenclaw Tower. The setting sun shone through the windows, painting the corridor in a warm orange-red.
It was almost dinner time, and the Great Hall would likely be full already.
He quickened his pace.
Chapter 28: Halloween Eve
At dinner time, the Ravenclaw table was a bit livelier than usual.
"Beater?" Cho Chang set down her pumpkin juice, her eyes lighting up. "You passed?"
"Tryouts are next week." Polaris sliced the roast beef on his plate, his tone flat. "The captain said the team is short on Beaters and asked if I'd be willing to give it a try."
"Of course you should!" Cho Chang's voice rose by half an octave, causing several nearby Ravenclaw students to look over. Realizing she was being loud, she lowered her voice, though the excitement in her eyes was impossible to hide. "Beater is a very important position! If you pass, we can play Quidditch together!"
Anthony, sitting across from Polaris, was stuffing a piece of roast potato into his mouth. Hearing this, he mumbled indistinctly, "You can play Quidditch? I thought you only knew how to fly around."
Polaris glanced at him.
Anthony immediately raised both hands in a gesture of surrender. "Just kidding! You'll definitely make it. I've seen you fly in Flying Class; you're steadier than anyone else."
Cho Chang nodded vigorously. "I think so too. You've been flying at home since you were little; your foundation is definitely better than us second-years. The tryout will be no problem."
Polaris smiled and didn't say much more.
Outside the window, the twilight deepened, and the surface of the Black Lake shimmered with a final touch of golden light. Candles in the Great Hall flickered to life one by one, floating in the air and illuminating the entire hall, making it warm and bright.
Polaris chewed his roast beef, his gaze casually sweeping across the Slytherin table. Malfoy was sitting there, talking to Crabbe and Goyle. His expression was as haughty as usual, and nothing seemed out of the ordinary.
He looked toward the Gryffindor side. Harry and Ron were sitting in the middle of the long table, heads buried in their food, looking no different than usual.
But Polaris knew that it had already happened.
According to the original timeline, Malfoy should have challenged Harry to a midnight duel tonight. Harry and Ron went to the Trophy Room as agreed, but didn't wait for Malfoy; instead, they stumbled upon that door in the corridor on the right side of the fourth floor and saw that giant Cerberus.
Polaris lowered his eyes and poked at the carrots on his plate with his fork.
Things were proceeding according to the original trajectory. Harry had discovered the Cerberus; next would be Professor Quirrell's Troll—and then the Philosopher's Stone.
He needed to get involved.
Not for the Savior's halo, but for ability unlocking. The System had said that participating in key plot points of the original work was the core condition for unlocking abilities. The Philosopher's Stone event was the most important plot line of the year; if he missed it, he didn't know when he would get another chance.
More importantly, Nicolas Flamel.
If he could interact with that Alchemy master who had lived for over six hundred years, and obtain his research manuscripts or even just a bit of guidance, it would be a huge help to the pseudo-talisman creation he was researching. Although the House of Black's Alchemycollection was rich, it was still far inferior compared to Flamel.
Polaris took a bite of a carrot and chewed slowly.
No rush. Take care of what's in front of him first.
A week later, the Quidditch Pitch.
Polaris stood high above the pitch, gripping his Star-Swirl broom, the wind whipping his robes. Roger Davies hovered on his broom opposite him, holding a notebook filled with dense notes.
"One more round," he said, then waved his hand toward the pitch below.
Three Bludgers were released simultaneously.
Polaris gripped his bat tightly, his eyes fixed on those Blackiron balls. They flew fast and fierce, with tricky trajectories, as if they had eyes of their own as they crashed toward him.
The first one attacked from the left. Polaris turned and swung his bat; the ball was knocked away, crashing straight into the stands at the other end of the pitch with a dull thud.
The second one shot up from below. Polaris didn't panic; waiting until it was almost touching the tail of his broom, he backhanded the ball. It changed direction and flew high into the air, disappearing into the clouds.
The third and the first one flew back almost at the same time, a pincer attack from left and right. Polaris took a deep breath, knocked the one on the left away with his left-handed bat, then suddenly leaned back, lying almost flat on his broom as the one on the right grazed past his nose.
He straightened up and shook out his hair, which had been ruffled by the wind.
Roger Davies watched him from the opposite side, flipping through several pages of his notebook. After a few seconds of silence, he nodded.
"You passed."
Polaris gripped the bat, hovering in mid-air, waiting for him to continue.
"Reflexes fast enough, judgment accurate enough, and strength enough." Roger closed the notebook. "Experience is a bit lacking, but that's not a problem. Starting next week, train with us."
He paused, and the corners of his mouth curled up in a rare smile. "Welcome to the Ravenclaw Quidditch team, Black."
Polaris nodded. "Thank you, Captain."
When he flew back to the ground, Cho Chang was standing at the edge of the pitch, holding a scarf, her expression more excited than Polaris himself.
"I knew you could do it!" She handed him the scarf, her eyes sparkling. "Beater! Oh my god, we can train together from now on!"
Polaris took the scarf and smiled.
Anthony walked down from the stands, still holding a book, and sauntered over. "Finished? That fast?"
"He passed," Cho Chang answered for him.
Anthony nodded, his expression unsurprised. "Of course. He uses Accio better than fifth-years; what's playing a bit of ball?"
Polaris laughed and tucked his broom under his arm. "Let's go, time to eat."
The three of them walked toward the Castle side by side. Cho Chang walked in the middle, gesturing as she talked about how Polaris had knocked away the Bludgers, saying that backhand shot was especially beautiful. Anthonylistened from the side, occasionally interjecting to ask questions about Quidditch rules—he didn't have much interest in the sport itself, but seemed very interested in "how Polaris did it."
Polaris walked on the outside, listening quietly to them talk, the corners of his mouth slightly curled up.
Two days later, a strange owl landed on the Ravenclawbreakfast table.
Polaris untied the letter from its leg and unfolded it; it was his aunt's handwriting.
Polaris: Received your letter. Beater? Well done! Your father would be very happy if he knew.
Regarding Professor Snape, I asked your grandmother. She said that when Snape was in school, he did have interactions with your parents—they were in the same year and had a good relationship; they could be considered friends. Your mother even helped him with something back then, though your grandmother didn't specify what.
So, if you feel he pauses when looking at you, it's probably because you look like your father. Especially your eyes, those grey eyes of the Black family; he must have a deep impression of them. Don't overthink it, just focus on your classes.
By the way, I've sponsored a batch of brooms for the Ravenclaw team—Polaris-Starlight, entry-level racing models. Your captain should receive them soon. When you are out there, you represent the face of the House of Black, so your equipment cannot be inferior.
Everything is fine at home; Bangbang talks about you eight hundred times a day, and Kreacher keeps your room polished until it shines. Yarnball has gotten fat, but still flies very fast.
Love, your Aunt
After reading the letter, Polaris's mouth curled up unconsciously.
His aunt was still the same, able to relate everything to the "face of the House of Black." But he could feel the sentiment behind it.
He folded the letter, put it in his pocket, and continued eating breakfast.
Days passed by like this.
Polaris's life gradually fell into a fixed rhythm.
From Monday to Friday, classes. Charms Class was his favorite; Professor Flitwick could always share little tricks not found in textbooks. Transfiguration was difficult, but Polaris found his understanding of shapes and structures to be much sharper than average—probably because he had molded so many things with mud in the garden when he was little. Potion Class was the quietest; Snape rarely called his name, and occasionally when his gaze swept over, it was just a faint glance, showing no emotion.
History of Magic remained boring, but Polaris had learned to silently recite the content of other subjects during Professor Binns's lectures. Herbology Class was a rare relaxation; the scent of soil in the greenhouse always reminded him of the days when he planted flowers with Bangbang in the garden of Star-Swirl Manor when he was little.
Every Tuesday and Thursday afternoon, he and Cho Chang trained on the Quidditch Pitch. Cho Chang's flying skills were much better than he had imagined—her body was light, her reactions agile, and her turns in the air were as smooth as a swallow. Polaris's batting technique also became more proficient with each training session, and the bat felt more and more natural in his hands.
Anthony never flew. Every time they trained, he would bring a book and sit in the stands, reading quietly, and when they finished training, the three of them would go to eat together.
Sometimes on weekends with good weather, they would find a patch of grass by the Black Lake for a picnic. Yarnballwould fly out of the Castle, land on Polaris's shoulder, and tilt its head to watch the Giant Squid in the lake sunbathing. Cho Chang would bring some Eastern snacks sent from home, Polaris would contribute preserved plum candies, and Anthony was responsible for bringing books—the three of them, one book each, reading their own, occasionally exchanging a few thoughts.
"What are you reading?" Once, Anthony leaned over to look at the book in Polaris's hand.
"Basic Principles of Alchemy." Polaris turned a page.
Anthony's expression was as if he were looking at something strange. "You're only in first year, and you're reading this?"
"Just interested," Polaris said. "Want to make some little gadgets."
"What kind of gadgets?"
"Haven't decided yet." Polaris smiled and closed the book.
He really hadn't decided yet. Alchemy was much more complicated than he had expected; just understanding the basic principles of material transformation had taken him several weeks. Although the House of Black's collection had detailed records, those ancient texts and symbols were very difficult to read, and he had to ponder over every page repeatedly.
However, he was already trying to make some simple alchemical trinkets—like transforming a piece of copper into silver, although it was only the size of a fingernail and could only last a few hours. But every time he succeeded, he could feel his understanding of material transformation deepening a little more.
Preparing for the pseudo-talisman was a long process.
He was in no rush.
Halloween Eve, Charms Class.
Professor Flitwick stood on a pile of books, waving his wand excitedly. "Today we will review the Levitation Charm! Last time everyone learned the basic movements, and today I want to see who has made the most progress!"
A murmur of whispers filled the classroom. Feathers were already placed on every desk, a sea of white.
Polaris sat by the window, and as soon as he took out his wand, several Ravenclaw classmates gathered around.
"Polaris, tell us about the wrist movement again." Lisa Turpin held her wand, her posture a bit stiff. "I tried many times last time, but the feather just wouldn't move."
"Yeah, yeah," another boy also leaned in. "Your Levitation Charm can lift a whole person, but we can't even handle a single feather. Where exactly is the difference?"
Polaris sighed, stood up, and swung his wand with slow movements.
"The wrist needs to be relaxed, not swung with force. Look—"
He did it slowly twice, breaking down the movements as he went. Several classmates followed along, and Lisa's feather finally floated up tremblingly; she was so happy she almost jumped up.
"It worked, it worked!"
Nearby, Anthony also succeeded once, but he wasn't that excited; he just gave Polaris a thumbs up and then continued to practice intently.
Just then—
Boom!
A dull thud came from the other end of the classroom.
Polaris looked up and saw the feather in front of Seamus Finnigan had turned into a charred, smoking lump. His face was also blackened, and his hair was frizzed up like a hedgehog.
"Here we go again..." Anthony muttered, pulling his chair closer to Polaris.
A few rows away, Hermione's voice could be heard faintly, carrying a hint of urgency: "It's Wingardium Leviosa! The 'gar' needs to be long and clear! Not Wingardium Levi—osa, that's not right—"
Ron's voice was muffled. "Then you demonstrate it?"
Hermione's feather floated up on command, hovering beautifully in mid-air. But Ron didn't compliment her, just grumbled something.
Anthony frowned and whispered to Polaris, "Granger looks quite like a student of ours in Ravenclaw. How did she get into Gryffindor?"
Polaris glanced in Hermione's direction. She sat there, lips pursed, a trace of grievance on her face, but more of it was defiance.
He looked at Ron again. The red-headed boy was lying on the table, wand cast aside, the feather unmoved, but his expression was one of "couldn't care less."
Anthony's frown deepened.
"Meeting someone like this who doesn't like knowledge," he lowered his voice, his tone containing a hint of the confusion peculiar to Ravenclaw, "isn't it uncomfortable for Granger to stay in Gryffindor?"
Polaris did not answer.
The bell rang.
Professor Flitwick clapped his hands. "Alright, alright, everyone go back and practice more. I will check next week!"
Students began to pack up their things and walked out in twos and threes.
Polaris and Anthony walked behind. Not far ahead, Ronwas talking to Harry as he walked; his voice wasn't loud, but the corridor was empty, so it could be heard clearly.
"She's a nightmare, no wonder she doesn't have any friends."
Harry didn't reply, just walked with his head down.
Ron continued, "She's too much; all she does is memorize books all day, who can stand that—"
Hermione ran past them.
She ran very fast, her shoulder hitting Ron heavily, and disappeared at the end of the corridor without looking back.
Ron was stunned, and Harry was stunned too.
Anthony stood next to Polaris, looking at the direction where Hermione had disappeared, his expression somewhat complex.
"How can he talk about a classmate from his own house like that?" Anthony whispered, his tone filled with incomprehension. "Granger was obviously trying to help him. He can't even recite the spell correctly, yet he won't let others correct him?"
He paused and added, "I think she looked like she was crying."
Polaris did not reply.
He watched the direction where Hermione had disappeared, thinking about what would happen today in the original story.
Halloween Eve.
Hermione would hide in the girls' bathroom and cry.
Then—a Troll.
Polaris lowered his eyes, reached into his pocket, and touched his wand. The warm touch of the holly wand made him feel a bit more at ease.
He quickened his pace and walked toward the Great Hallwith Anthony. He didn't say much along the way, his mind racing.
As he turned the corner of the corridor, he silently called out in his mind.
[System.]
A cold, mechanical voice sounded in response.
[Present.]
[With my current abilities, do I have a chance against the Troll?]
The System was silent for a second.
[Host's current ability assessment: Rabbit Talisman(Super Speed), Snake Talisman (Invisibility), Ox Talisman(Super Strength), Dog Talisman (Immortality), Mountain Demon (Beginner), Wind Demon (Beginner), Water Demon (Beginner), mask of ninja, Manny mask.]
[Evaluation conclusion: Dealing with a single Troll, the chance of success is extremely high.]
Polaris nodded slightly.
[Additionally—] The System paused, [Participating in a major event will randomly unlock a new ability. Please seize the opportunity, Host.]
Polaris did not respond.
He followed the crowd into the Great Hall and sat down at the Ravenclaw table. Anthony had already started eating, and Cho Chang came over from the other side, sat opposite him, and asked about his training plan for the afternoon.
Polaris picked up a fork and put a few pieces of roast meat onto his plate.
He ate his meal, listening to Anthony and Cho Chang chat, occasionally responding with a word or two. His expression was no different from usual.
But his hand remained in his pocket, gripping that holly wand.
Tonight, something will happen.
He knew.
He was waiting.
Chapter 29: The Troll Attacks
Rhys was absent-minded during the afternoon classes.
The empty seat in class was a constant reminder—Hermione was still crying in the girls' bathroom. He knew, but he couldn't go now. If he went and persuaded Hermione to come out now, the Troll incident wouldn't happen, and he would lose the chance to participate in a key plot point of the original story.
The system had said that unlocking abilities required participation, not just spectating.
So he sat in the Ravenclaw common room, flipping through Basic Principles of Alchemy without absorbing a single word. Anthony thought he was dazed and didn't want to disturb him. It wasn't until Cho came over to ask if he wanted to go to dinner that he closed the book and stood up.
At half-past six in the evening, they walked into the Great Hall together.
The Halloween decorations were much more extravagant than usual. A thousand live bats fluttered around the ceiling, the sound of their wings mixing with the chatter of the crowd, occasionally making timid girls duck. Low dark clouds hovered just above the dining tables, and the candlelight inside the jack-o'-lanterns flickered, casting shifting shadows on everyone's faces.
Golden plates were suddenly heaped with food—roast beef, fried chicken legs, honeyed ham, peppermint humbugs, and cream cakes, as lavish as the start-of-term banquet.
"Wow." Anthony stared at the food that had suddenly appeared, his eyes wide. "This is incredible."
Cho was already helping herself to roast potatoes; she looked at Anthony's expression and shook her head with a smile.
The first thing Rhys did after sitting down wasn't to admire the spread, but to pile food onto his plate. He ate quickly, but not ravenously—it was a methodical fast, with every bite thoroughly chewed. He needed his strength. He knew exactly what was going to happen tonight.
"Why are you eating so fast today?" Anthony asked indistinctly through a mouthful of chicken leg.
"Hungry," Rhys replied briefly.
Cho glanced at him but said nothing.
Halfway through the meal, Anthony suddenly put down his fork and frowned. "Why hasn't Granger shown up yet?"
Cho's movements paused. She hesitated for a second before lowering her voice. "The Gryffindor girls said she's crying in the girls' bathroom. I heard them when I passed by."
Anthony was taken aback, his expression turning somewhat complicated. He opened his mouth as if to say something, but ultimately just sighed.
Rhys didn't join the conversation, continuing to eat. His fork stabbed into a piece of roast beef, but his mind was racing.
Just a bit longer.
Wait for Quirrell to arrive.
Wait for the Troll to be let into the Castle.
Only then could he ensure the Troll followed the predetermined route—the one leading to the girls' bathroom where Hermione was.
He stuffed another piece of beef into his mouth.
The doors of the Great Hall were suddenly slammed open.
Professor Quirrell came sprinting in, stumbling into the empty space between Dumbledore and Snape, his face as pale as a corpse and his whole body shaking like a leaf.
"Troll—in the dungeons—thought you ought to know."
He finished the sentence, his eyes rolled back, and he fell flat on the floor with a dull thud.
The Great Hall was silent for a second.
Then screams erupted.
Students bolted from their seats, chairs toppling everywhere. Some dove under tables, others crowded toward the exit. Several Hufflepuff girls huddled together screaming, while the Weasley twins stood on their chairs shouting, "Where's the Troll?" only to be silenced by a roar from Professor McGonagall.
Dumbledore stood up and raised his wand; his voice wasn't loud, but it carried clearly into everyone's ears.
"Silence."
The Great Hall fell quiet.
"Prefects, lead the students of your respective Houses back to the dormitories immediately. Teachers, follow me to the dungeons."
Filch scurried out from a corner, waving his arms to maintain order. Percy Weasley, his face flushed, shrilly directed the Gryffindor students to line up.
Rhys put down his fork and stood up.
"You two go find a Professor," he said to Anthony and Cho, his voice kept very low. "I'm going to find Granger."
Cho was stunned, and before she could speak, Rhys had already turned and run out of the Great Hall.
He ran so fast that Anthony only had time to see the hem of his robes disappear through the doorway.
"Rhys—" Cho stood up to give chase, but the crowd was too chaotic, and she was pushed back two steps. She watched the direction where Rhys had vanished, bit her lip, and then grabbed Anthony's sleeve.
"Come on, let's find Professor Flitwick."
Anthony was dragged by her toward the staff table, shouting as they pushed through, "Why are we looking for Professor Flitwick?"
"Rhys went to find Granger!" Cho's voice was almost inaudible in the din. "What if the Troll is over there too? We have to get a Professor to find them!"
They pushed against the crowd toward the staff table. Penelope was shouting from behind for the Ravenclawstudents to head her way, but Cho didn't look back. Professor Flitwick was standing beside the staff table, standing on his tiptoes to direct the evacuation; he was so short he was almost invisible in the messy crowd.
"Professor Flitwick!" Cho finally reached him, her voice trembling. "Professor, Rhys went to find Granger—Granger is still in the girls' bathroom, and Rhys went to get her—the Troll—"
Professor Flitwick's expression changed.
"My dear student!" he squeaked, jumping down from his pile of books and scurrying toward the door on his short legs, moving faster than many of the older students.
Snape was standing by the staff table, wand in hand, preparing to head toward the dungeons. He paused when he heard the name "Rhys" and turned his head. Cho was telling Professor Flitwick that "Rhys went to find Granger," her voice urgent and panicked.
Snape's face darkened. He said nothing, but simply turned and strode off in the opposite direction—toward the girls' bathroom. His black robes billowed behind him like a giant bat gliding through the corridor.
Dumbledore stood at the entrance of the Great Hall, watching Flitwick and Snape disappear into the corridor one after the other, something flickering slightly behind his half-moon spectacles.
He turned to Cho and Anthony, his voice gentle but firm. "The Professors have already gone. You two follow your prefect back for now."
Cho wanted to say something more, but Dumbledoreshook his head slightly. "They will be fine."
Rhys ran through the corridors.
He didn't dare run too fast—the speed of the Rabbit Talisman was too great, and it would be a hassle to explain if someone saw him. However, he used it twice in secret at deserted corners, each time allowing him to cross an entire corridor in an instant.
The door to the girls' bathroom appeared at the end of the hall. He stopped at the entrance, adjusted his breathing, and then pushed the door open.
"Hermione?"
It was very dark inside the bathroom, with only a faint sliver of light coming from the crack in the door of the furthest stall. There was no response.
"Hermione Granger?"
"...Who is it?" a muffled, tearful voice came from the stall.
"Rhys. Rhys Black."
The stall door opened a crack, and Hermione peeked out. Her eyes were red and swollen, the tip of her nose was red, and tear tracks still stained her face. She froze when she saw Rhys, clearly not expecting a Ravenclaw to come looking for her.
"You—what are you doing here?"
"No time to explain." Rhys walked over and grabbed her wrist. "Come with me."
Hermione was pulled out, stumbling slightly. "What's wrong? What's happening—"
Then she smelled it.
A stench. Like something that had been dead for a long time, soaked in sewage, and then fished out to dry. The smell wafted from the corridor, growing stronger.
Hermione's face went white.
Rhys pulled her to the furthest corner of the bathroom and crouched down, hiding in the nook between the sinks and the wall. He pushed Hermione into the innermost part and shielded her with his body.
"Don't make a sound," he whispered.
Footsteps.
Heavy, lumbering footsteps, each one sounding like a hammer striking the floor.
Then the door was smashed open.
It wasn't pushed open—it was smashed. The entire doorframe shook, and the hinges let out a piercing screech.
The Troll stood in the doorway.
It was twelve feet tall, with skin a hideous grayish-brown like a piece of mud that had been dried for years. Its head was ridiculously small, like a walnut perched on a heap of flesh, and two short, thick legs supported a body as bloated as a mountain. It held a massive wooden club studded with nails, from which hung something slimy and of an indistinguishable color.
Hermione covered her mouth, stifling a scream.
Rhys crouched there, motionless. He reached into his pocket and gripped his wand—but he didn't pull it out. Spells would have almost no effect on a Troll's skin; he needed something else.
The Troll circled the bathroom. Its footsteps crushed several floor tiles, and its club swept across the stall doors, sending splinters of wood flying. It was looking for something—or rather, it was sniffing. The thick stench emanating from it filled the entire space, making it almost impossible to breathe.
Hermione was shaking. Rhys could feel her tremors through the floor.
He took a deep breath.
The mask of ninja materialized, worn at a tilt on one side of his head; he needed a cold psychological state to assist him in combat.
Snake Talisman.
With a thought, a layer of transparent light film covered his body. He stood up from the corner and walked out silently.
Hermione's eyes widened—Rhys had vanished right before her.
The Troll seemed to sense something and turned clumsily. Its small eyes saw nothing, but its nose was twitching, sniffing the air.
Rhys held his breath and circled to the Troll's side.
His fingers touched the nearest sink—it was ceramic, cold, and heavy. The power of the Mountain Demon poured from his fingertips, and the edge of the ceramic began to transform, changing from a smooth white glaze to rough gray rock, its shape shifting as well.
But converting ceramic to rock took time; it was too slow.
The Troll suddenly turned in his direction, and its club came sweeping over.
Rhys let go, the Rabbit Talisman activated, and he slid under the club, gliding across the floor to the other end of the bathroom. The club smashed into the sink, sending ceramic shards and stone fragments flying everywhere; the sink that was only halfway transformed was completely shattered.
Hermione covered her mouth, letting out a tiny whimper.
The Troll heard it.
It turned toward the corner where Hermione was hiding and began taking heavy steps.
Rhys sprang from the floor. There was no time—he rushed between the Troll and Hermione, pressing both hands to the ground.
Mountain Demon.
The ground cracked open, and a stone wall rose from beneath the Troll's feet, slamming into its shins. The Trollwas tripped up and fell forward, its massive body crashing to the floor, making the entire bathroom vibrate. The club flew from its hand and smashed a mirror on the wall.
Hermione screamed once, then quickly covered her mouth again.
The Troll rolled over, its eyes red with rage. It pushed against the ground to climb back up, but Rhys didn't give it the chance.
He rushed to the Troll and pressed both hands against its chest.
Ox Talisman.
Muscles bulged as power surged from deep within his body. The Troll had just started to lift its upper body when Rhys pinned it back down. Its spine slammed into the floor, and the broken stone cut into its grayish-brown skin, causing black blood to seep out.
The Troll roared, its arms flailing wildly. Rhys tilted his head to dodge a punch, his other hand still pinning its chest firmly. The Ox Talisman gave him enough strength to suppress the Troll, but he could feel that strength draining—the Troll's power was immense, and every second was exhausting his stamina.
He needed to end this quickly.
He released one hand and pressed it against the ground beside the Troll's head.
Mountain Demon.
The rubble on the floor began to surge, spreading along the Troll's skull. Sensing danger, the Troll struggled desperately, and its other arm swung around, slamming heavily into Rhys's shoulder.
Pain. His bones groaned.
Rhys gritted his teeth and didn't let go.
Rocks spread to the Troll's ears, temples, and eye sockets. The Troll's eyes were covered by stone; it could no longer see and let out a terrified howl, struggling even more violently. Rhys was thrown off, his back slamming into the wall, the air being squeezed from his lungs.
But he didn't stop.
The moment he landed, he pressed both hands to the floor. The power of the Mountain Demon surged once more—
The ground beneath the Troll collapsed.
Rubble and dirt seemed to come alive, wrapping around the Troll's arms, legs, and torso. The Troll struggled within the stone constraints, the sound of cracking rock snapping and popping, but every time it cracked, new stone would take its place.
It wasn't enough. The Mountain Demon power was still at a basic level and couldn't trap it for long.
Rhys took a deep breath and stood up. His shoulder ached, his back ached, and his fingers were trembling. The side effects of the Ox Talisman were beginning to manifest, his muscles feeling as weak as if the strength had been drained out of them.
But he had other things.
He raised his hand, pointing his fingertips toward the Troll.
Wind Demon.
A current of air surged from his palm. At first it was just a breeze, but it suddenly intensified the moment it condensed at his fingertips—it wasn't an air blade, as he didn't yet have the ability to compress wind into a blade. But the wind itself was enough.
The airflow forced its way into the Troll's mouth and nose. The Troll's howls were choked back, and it began to cough and sputter, its massive body convulsing within its stone bonds. As air flooded its lungs and expanded its alveoli, the Troll's face turned from grayish-brown to purple-red, and then from purple-red to a bruised blue.
It was still struggling. The rocks were cracking. Its fingers had already clawed through the rubble and were about to break free—
Rhys gritted his teeth, pouring the last of his strength into his fingertips.
The wind grew even more fierce.
The Troll's eyes rolled back into its head.
Its struggles grew weaker and weaker. Its arms no longer flailed. Its legs no longer kicked. Finally, like a collapsed small mountain, it went completely still.
Rhys released his hand, and the wind stopped.
He stood there, gasping for air. The continuous use of the Ox Talisman and the powers of two Great Demons had left his body almost entirely drained of strength. His fingers were shaking, and his legs were shaking, but he remained standing.
His gaze was very calm—too calm, as calm as a pool of stagnant water.
That was an aftereffect of the mask of ninja. Although he had only briefly borrowed the mask's power to enhance his combat state, that coldness still flowed through his blood, suppressing his emotions until nothing was left.
The mask dissipated without a trace.
Hermione crawled out from the corner, her legs still shaking. She looked at the Troll lying on the ground, then at Rhys, her lips trembling, unable to say a single word.
Hurried footsteps echoed from the corridor.
Chapter 30: Unlocking Ability
Professor Flitwick was the first to rush in, his wand held high, its tip glowing with blue light.
He saw the Troll's corpse—its massive, grayish-brown body lying amidst rubble and broken tiles, traces of lingering air currents still swirling around its mouth and nose.
His mouth opened, closed, and opened again.
"Merlin's beard..."
Snape followed close behind, his Black robes billowing.
His wand was already drawn as he rushed in, but there were no targets left in the bathroom for him to attack.
His gaze swept over the Troll's corpse—the traces of Rock Binding, the pile of rubble, the veins burst from being filled with wind—and then landed on Reese.
Reese stood in the center of the bathroom, his hands hanging slightly at his sides, his fingertips still trembling faintly.
His robes were covered in dust, the fabric on his left shoulder torn by the Troll's fist, and there were a few small abrasions on his face, but otherwise, he looked completely unharmed.
It was just that his gray eyes were too cold—a coldness not typical for someone who had just killed a Troll.
Snape's gaze lingered on his face for a second, his lips moved, but he said nothing.
Then Cho and Anthony squeezed in from behind Professor Flitwick.
"Reese!"
Seeing him standing there just fine, the fear on Cho's face instantly dissipated by half, but upon seeing the Troll's corpse on the ground, her face turned pale again.
She ran over and grabbed his arm. "Are you okay? Are you hurt?"
Anthony also ran over, supporting his other side, his expression grim. "Are you crazy? Fighting a Troll by yourself?"
Reese was supported by them, his body swaying slightly.
The aftereffects of the Ox Talisman made his muscles feel a bit weak, but he held his ground.
"I'm fine," he said.
His voice was flat, so flat it didn't sound like his own.
Cho glanced at him, seemingly sensing something, but she didn't ask.
Professor Flitwick finally recovered from his shock.
He trotted over to Reese and checked him up and down—no fractures, no internal bleeding, only a few abrasions and a bruise on his left shoulder.
He then ran to the Troll's corpse and crouched down to examine it carefully.
"Rock Binding... Wind inflating the lungs..." he muttered, his voice filled with unconcealable shock. "Mr. Black, how did you do it?"
Reese was just about to speak when footsteps sounded in the corridor again.
Professor McGonagall and Dumbledore walked in, one after the other.
Professor McGonagall's face was livid, while Dumbledore's expression was much calmer, though his blue eyes behind his spectacles flickered slightly.
"What is the situation?" Dumbledore asked.
Professor Flitwick stood up and cleared his throat. "The Troll is dead. Mr. Black... dealt with it alone."
Professor McGonagall's gaze snapped to Reese, her expression shifting from anger to shock. "Alone?"
"Yes," Professor Flitwick nodded. "I've checked; the Troll's fatal injury was asphyxiation caused by wind inflating its lungs. Additionally, there are traces of Rock Binding—very precise tactical coordination."
Professor McGonagall opened her mouth, seemingly wanting to say something, but just then, a rush of hurried footsteps came from the corridor.
Harry and Ron came running from the end of the corridor, running right into the Professors standing at the doorway.
They stopped.
"We—" Harry said, panting, "We heard—"
"We came to find Hermione—" Ron added, then saw the scene inside the bathroom—shattered tiles covering the floor, broken sinks, and the Troll's corpse lying on the ground.
His face turned pale.
The corners of Snape's mouth curled up in a curve that made one's spine go cold.
"Mr. Potter, Mr. Weasley."
His voice was very soft, as soft as a viper flicking its tongue, but everyone present heard it clearly.
"Let me guess. You two, while all students were ordered to return to their dormitories, left the group without permission and ran to—"
He glanced at the sign on the bathroom door.
"—the entrance to the girls' bathroom. For what reason? To save the world? Or do you think Hogwarts' safety regulations don't apply to you?"
Ron's face flushed bright red. "We came to find Hermione! She was all alone—"
"Miss Granger is being looked after by Mr. Black," Snapeinterrupted, his voice still soft, but every word felt like a knife. "And you two, without any ability to handle danger, entered an area where a Troll might be lurking. What do you call this? I cannot find a polite enough word to describe such behavior. Perhaps Gryffindor bravery is just throwing your own lives away as dinner for a Troll?"
Harry's expression was ghastly, his lips pressed tightly together.
Ron clenched his fists but couldn't utter a word of rebuttal.
Professor McGonagall took a deep breath and turned to Harry and Ron.
Her expression was no better than Snape's, but there was more disappointment in it.
"Twenty points from Gryffindor," she said, enunciating every word. "Twenty points each. Leaving the group without permission, violating school rules, and putting yourselves and others in danger."
Harry lowered his head; Ron's fists clenched and unclenched, unclenched and clenched again.
Professor McGonagall turned to Reese, her expression softening slightly.
"Mr. Black," she said, "although your actions were also extremely risky—a first-year student facing a Troll alone is by no means something to be encouraged. But you did protect a fellow student and displayed abilities beyond expectations in a critical moment."
She paused.
"Twenty points to Ravenclaw."
Then she looked at Cho and Anthony.
"You reported the situation to the Professors in a timely manner and helped a fellow student. Five points each."
Cho and Anthony exchanged a glance and whispered, "Thank you, Professor."
Professor McGonagall finally looked at Hermione.
Hermione had been standing in the corner, her arms crossed over her chest, her face still pale.
Her eyes were red, but she wasn't crying anymore.
"Miss Granger," Professor McGonagall's tone softened, "you need to go to the Hospital Wing to let Madam Pomfrey check on you. Tonight's events—"
"It was my fault," Hermione suddenly spoke, her voice hoarse but clear. "I shouldn't have hidden away because of a small thing. If I had stayed with everyone, this wouldn't have—"
"Enough," Dumbledore's voice gently interrupted her.
He hadn't spoken until now, just standing there, quietly observing everything.
"No one is to blame for the Troll's intrusion," he said. "What's important is that no one was seriously injured."
His gaze shifted from Hermione to Reese, lingering on those gray eyes for a moment.
Reese's expression remained cold, a coldness that made Dumbledore's eyes flicker slightly.
"Professor Flitwick," Dumbledore turned to the Head of Ravenclaw, "please take Mr. Black to the Hospital Wingfor a check-up. Although he appears to be fine, it is always better to be cautious."
Professor Flitwick nodded repeatedly. "Very well, very well, I shall go at once."
Reese shook his head. "Professor, I'm fine."
Professor Flitwick insisted. "You still need to be checked; I won't be at ease until Madam Pomfrey has taken a look."
Cho did not let go of Reese's arm.
Anthony stood on the other side.
Reese glanced at them and did not refuse again.
—
In the Hospital Wing, Madam Pomfrey checked Reese from top to bottom and finally declared, "Only a few abrasions and a bruise on his left shoulder; a bottle of Potion will be enough."
Professor Flitwick stood by, rubbing his hands together and repeatedly confirming, "Are you really okay?", only shutting his mouth sheepishly after Madam Pomfreyglared at him.
Cho and Anthony sat in the corridor outside waiting.
Cho hadn't said much, only glancing at the door of the Hospital Wing occasionally.
Anthony sat beside her, flipping through the notebook he carried with him, but he wasn't absorbing a single word.
When Reese came out, Cho stood up and looked closely at his face.
"Are you feeling better?"
Reese nodded.
That icy feeling was slowly fading, and his expression finally wasn't as cold as it had been just a moment ago.
"Let's go," Anthony put away his notebook. "The Halloween feast is waiting for us in the common room."
—
In the Ravenclaw common room, a small Halloween feast was being held.
The long table was laden with pumpkin juice, roast pumpkin pies, honey candies, and all sorts of snacks.
The fire in the fireplace was burning brightly, casting a warm glow over the entire circular room.
A few older students were playing Wizard's Chess in the corner, and the first-year students were gathered together, sharing candies brought back from the Great Hall.
Reese sat by the window, holding a cup of pumpkin juice in his hand, not drinking it.
Cho sat next to him, Anthony sat opposite, and the three of them didn't speak.
Reese was waiting.
Sure enough, after a moment of silence, that familiar mechanical voice rang in his mind.
[Detected that the host has successfully participated in and influenced a key plot point of the original work: The Halloween Troll Incident.]
[Host's performance rating in this event: Excellent.]
[According to system rules, participation in major events will randomly unlock a new ability. Drawing...]
[Drawing complete.]
[Tso Lan (Thunder Demon) has been awakened—Beginner Level.]
[Ability Description: Can summon and fire lightning; power increases with proficiency. Current level is Beginner; can release small-scale lightning attacks. Proficiency must be improved through practice.]
Reese's hand holding the pumpkin juice paused slightly.
Thunder Demon.
Tso Lan.
He closed his eyes and felt something deep within his body trembling faintly—like a bolt of lightning locked away, waiting in the darkness to be released.
Outside the window, a silent bolt of lightning streaked across the sky above the Castle, illuminating the entire night sky.
Cho looked up at the window and whispered, "Is it going to rain?"
Reese opened his eyes and shook his head. "No. Just thunder."
He placed the pumpkin juice on the table, leaned back in his chair, and watched the flames dancing in the fireplace.
Cho and Anthony were whispering something nearby, occasionally laughing.
In the distance, a few Ravenclaw first-years were discussing today's Troll incident, their tones filled with excitement.
Listening to those sounds, the corners of Reese's mouth curled up slightly.
He picked up the pumpkin juice and took a sip.
It was sweet.