Chapter 61: Theory of Magical Environments and the Targeted Time
Night.
The Great Hall of Hogwarts was brightly lit, and the golden plates seemed exceptionally warm on this wind-swept and rainy night.
The Sorting Ceremony had just ended, and Dumbledorewas delivering a warning about the Dementors.
"...They are stationed at every entrance to the school. While they have promised not to disrupt our daily activities, I must warn you: Dementors are not to be fooled by smooth talk..."
At the Slytherin long table.
Moen White was elegantly cutting a medium-rare steak. He appeared to be listening, but was actually checking the system logs on his retina.
[Ding!]
[High Magic Environment Detected: Hogwarts Great Hall]
[Magic Concentration: Extremely High]
[Today's Check-in Successful!]
[Reward Obtained: Draw Count +1]
[Current Remaining Draws: 3]
He originally had 2 on the train, used 1 just now to analyze the Dementor but didn't draw, so with +1, he had 3 in total.
Moen looked at the pitiful number "3" and sighed in his heart.
"As expected, only after returning to school does this damn system truly become 'powered up'."
He mentally reviewed his gains from the summer vacation.
In the mansion in the Muggle world, no matter how he checked in, the system always gave trash like [10,000 GBP], [Stamina Potion (Small)], [Wolfsbane PotionImprovement], or R&D progress for the [Black SwanMass Production Line].
In Diagon Alley and at the factory, the dozen or so opportunities he had painstakingly saved up were all dumped into the R&D of the [Black Swan Mass Production Line].
"High technology is a gold-devouring beast, and high-magic Alchemy is a black hole that devours 'draws'."
Moen forked a piece of beef and put it into his mouth.
Now that he was back at Hogwarts, a massive magic node, his 'daily allowance' was finally stable.
"I still need to save up," Moen thought to himself. "I need at least 20 draws before I dare to make a move on that thing."
His gaze passed through the crowd, over the Ravenclawtable, and landed precisely at the edge of the Gryffindortable.
There, Hermione Granger was hurriedly piling potatoes onto her plate, her expression anxious, as if she were worried about missing her classes.
And at her neckline, a long gold chain was faintly visible, with a small, glittering hourglass hanging from it.
A Time-Turner.
That was a strategic-level alchemical item strictly controlled by the Ministry of Magic. It contained the most mysterious and dangerous [Laws of Time].
"Hermione," Moen narrowed his eyes.
In the original story, Professor McGonagall applied for this artifact to help Hermione attend all her elective courses.
This was simply a waste of a god-tier item.
Using an artifact that could reverse causality just to attend Divination and Muggle Studies Class?
"This is a massive waste of resources."
Moen's fingers lightly tapped the tabletop.
"If I could draw [Time Rewind] or [Time Stop]..."
But he knew that things involving laws were extremely difficult to draw. A single draw would definitely be a waste; he had to rely on [Probability Stacking].
"It looks like I'll have to find an opportunity to borrow that turner for a few days to'study' it," Moen planned in his mind.
Just then, Dumbledore finished his speech.
"Finally, I am also pleased to announce that this year's Defense Against the Dark Arts class will be taught by Professor Remus Lupin."
Scattered applause broke out. Lupin's patched robes were indeed not very respectable.
"Additionally, the Care of Magical Creatures will be filled by Rubeus Hagrid."
The applause this time was much more enthusiastic, especially from the Gryffindor side.
Hagrid was flushed red, his massive beard soaked with tears.
"Hagrid as a Professor?" Malfoy sneered nearby. "That big oaf? I thought he'd been expelled. My father says..."
"Draco."
Moen interrupted him, his tone flat.
"Hagrid is now my supplier for magical creature materials. Show him some respect."
"And..." Moen glanced at Hagrid's massive frame, "if you don't want your ribs kicked in by a Hippogriff in the first lesson, you'd better drop that noble act of yours."
Malfoy shrunk his neck back. "I understand, Moen."
The feast ended.
Students poured out of the Great Hall.
Moen deliberately slowed his pace. In the crowded throng, he 'inadvertently' walked behind Hermione.
Hermione was discussing Hagrid's new class with Harryand Ron.
"This is great!" Harry said.
"Yeah, as long as he doesn't bring anything that can bite our heads off," Ron said worriedly.
As Moen passed Hermione, he gave his cane a light flick. An extremely faint thread of magic silently coiled around the gold chain at Hermione's neckline.
[Marking Successful.]
Moen didn't make a move to snatch it now.
Doing it in public would be too low-class.
He just made a mark so he could monitor the location of this 'asset' at any time.
"Good evening, Miss Granger."
Moen gave a polite greeting as he passed.
"Ah! Good evening, Moen." Hermione was startled, instinctively clutching the Time-Turner at her collar.
"Don't be nervous." Moen smiled with the gentleness of a hunter looking at prey. "There are many courses this semester; take care of yourself. Don't exhaust yourself for the sake of classes... or lose yourself in time."
Hermione's face went pale instantly.
He knew?! How did he know?
Before Hermione could ask, Moen had already walked away with Malfoy.
"He knows about the Time-Turner," Hermione whispered to Harry, her voice trembling. "Nothing can be hidden from him."
"Ignore him." Harry looked at Moen's back with disgust. "He just wants to show off that he knows everything. We just need to stay away from him."
...Slytherin Common Room.
Back in the dungeons, Moen sat on his exclusive 'throne'.
The common room was warm and dry.
"System, check current inventory."
[Draw Count: 3]
[Held Items: Dementor Slices, High-Purity Wolfsbane Potion, Polyjuice Potion...]
"It's not enough."
Moen listed his plans in his mind.
Time-Turner: Needs at least 20 draw opportunities for pity-stacking. This requires 20 days of check-ins, or finding new high-magic nodes to check in.
Marauder's Map: In the hands of the the Weasley twins. That thing can monitor the whole school; I must get it or make a copy.
Sirius Black: That big dog should be near Hogwarts by now. I need to find a way to 'reunite' him with Peter.
"Things must be done one by one."
Moen pulled back his thoughts.
"Tomorrow is the first Divination and Care of Magical Creatures."
"I've heard Professor Trelawney is an old fraud, but her [True Prophecy] talent is top-tier 'Golden Legend' quality. Although uncontrollable, it's worth trying my luck."
Moen stood up and walked toward the dormitory.
Chapter 62: The Dead Dog in the Tea Leaves and the Hippogriff
The next day, morning.
At the top of the North Tower at Hogwarts, the air was stiflingly hot.
At the end of the silver ladder leading to the Divinationclassroom was an attic filled with the heavy scent of perfume and sherry.
The curtains were drawn tight, and the red light made the place look like a drowsy, cheap fortune-telling parlor.
Professor Sybill Trelawney, a small, thin woman wearing enormous magnifying spectacles and draped in countless shawls, was predicting in an ethereal, trembling voice that Neville Longbottom would break a teacup.
"Is this the Divination?"
Moen White sat on a cushioned round chair in the back row, holding an unclean teacup, his brow furrowed.
"It's simply a waste of life."
He activated [True Sight], his gaze cutting through the swirling incense smoke and landing on Trelawney.
[Scan Target]: Sybill Trelawney
[Danger Level]: Low (Normal) / Extremely High (Prophecy State)
[Traits Discovered]: [Gold] True Prophecy: Capable of glimpsing fragments of the river of time and making prophecies that are bound to come true. (This trait is passively triggered and cannot be actively controlled by the host. Most of the time, she is just a charlatan, but on very rare occasions, she is the mouthpiece of fate.) [White] Dramatic Personality: She likes to scare students.
"Gold..." Moen's fingers rubbed the rim of the teacup.
Although it was Gold, the flaw of being "uncontrollable" was too significant.
If he were to extract it and start rolling his eyes and babbling nonsense from time to time, it would really ruin his image as a mastermind.
"Forget it, I'll leave it for now. Once I've saved up enough attempts, I might be able to improve it with Alchemy."
At that moment, an exclamation came from the front of the classroom.
Ron was holding Harry's teacup, his face full of terror.
Professor Trelawney leaned over, let out a shrill scream, and plopped down into her chair.
"I cannot bear to say it... it is... the Grim!"
"What is it?" Harry asked nervously.
"It is a giant dog that roams the great graveyard! It is an omen of death!" Trelawney said, trembling.
The whole class fell into a deathly silence. Everyone couldn't help but think of the escaped convict, Sirius Black.
"I think it's just a clump of undissolved tea leaves, Professor."
A calm voice broke the terrifying atmosphere.
Moen stood up, his Black Ironwood Cane gently brushing aside the beaded curtain blocking his path, and walked to Harry's table.
He did not sit at the low table, but instead looked down at the teacup from a standing position.
"From the perspective of Alchemical geometric composition," Moen said indifferently, "this looks more like... a malnourished sheep. Or someone's poor imagination."
"How dare you question the Inner Eye!" Trelawney was so angry that her glasses were crooked.
"I only believe in data, Professor." Moen pushed the teacup back to Harry, his eyes cold. "If death were truly so easily predicted by a few tea leaves, what would be the point of Azkaban?"
"Let's go, Draco." Moen glanced at the time. "The oxygen level in this place is too low; it will affect brain development."
He walked out of the classroom with Malfoy.
Harry looked at the dregs in the cup. Although Moen's words were harsh, the inexplicable fear in his heart had dissipated quite a bit.
"He's right," Hermione said, packing up her bag. "This is complete nonsense."
...
In the afternoon, on the grassy edge of the Forbidden Forest.
The air was fresh, and the sun was bright. It was a stark contrast to the stifling heat of the Divination.
Hagrid was wearing his massive moleskin coat, waiting with excitement for his first group of students.
Behind him in the paddock were tethered a dozen strange-looking beasts: Hippogriffs.
They had massive eagle heads, sharp orange eyes, and steel-like talons, but their hindquarters were those of a horse.
"Beautiful, aren't they?" Hagrid roared. "Come on, closer! Who wants to come and pet them first?"
Everyone was shrinking back, except for Harry, who steeled himself and walked forward.
"Listen, they are very proud," Hagrid warned. "Don't you ever insult them; it's the last thing you'd ever want to do."
Harry succeeded.
He bowed, and the beast named Buckbeak bowed back, even letting Harry ride him for a lap.
The Gryffindors cheered.
"What's so hard about that?" Malfoy watched Harry show off with jealousy. He shoved Goyle aside and strode towards Buckbeak, who was eating a dead ferret.
"I've got it, you ugly big brute!" Malfoy shouted arrogantly. "You're not dangerous at all, are you? You..."
"Screech—!"
The sound of steel talons tearing through the air. Buckbeakwas enraged.
Its massive eagle head jerked up, its sharp talons gleaming with a cold light, and it swung violently down at Malfoy's chest!
If that blow had landed, Malfoy would definitely have been disemboweled.
"Ah—!" Hermione screamed.
Hagrid was still far away and couldn't reach them in time to rescue him.
Malfoy was frozen in terror. He watched the descending talons, his mind a complete blank.
Just at this critical moment.
Boom!
A black figure cut between the man and the beast like lightning.
He didn't use a spell.
Moen White held his Black Ironwood Cane in one hand, not drawing it, but instead using the iron-hard wand shaft to forcefully block Buckbeak's talon, which was capable of tearing through rock!
Clang!
The sound of metal striking metal. Moen's feet sank deep into the soil, but he didn't step back an inch.
"Kneel!"
Moen lifted his head, and in that instant, his pupils turned into golden slit pupils.
[Dragon Might (Blue, Growth Type)]— Full power outburst!
[Magical Creature Affinity (Purple)]— Reverse intimidation!
A terrifying aura, originating from a top-tier predator and countless levels higher than a Hippogriff, erupted from Moen.
At that moment, Buckbeak no longer saw a human teenager. Instead, it saw a roaring dragon, its body burning with Alchemical fire!
The fear from deep within its bloodline overwhelmed its anger. Buckbeak let out a shrill, mournful cry, and its originally fierce gaze instantly shattered.
It retracted its talons, its legs went weak, and right in front of everyone, it flopped onto the ground like a frightened chick, burying its head deep into its wings.
The whole scene was dead silent. Moen retracted his wand and shook his slightly numb wrist.
He turned around and looked at Malfoy, who was slumped on the ground, having wet himself from fear.
Slap!
A loud slap. Moen backhanded Malfoy across the face, snapping him out of his stupor.
"Fool."
Moen's voice was cold as ice:
"How many times have I taught you? Before you have absolute power to suppress something, do not try to provoke anything that you think you can control but is actually deadly."
"If it had killed you, it would just be an 'occupational accident.' Hagrid would be fired, and I would lose a supplier of magical creatures."
Moen bent down, grabbed Malfoy by the collar, and hauled him up:
"You almost ruined my business, Draco."
Malfoy covered his face, looking into Moen's cold eyes. Tears streamed down his face, but he didn't even dare to cry out loud. "S-sorry, Moen..."
At this moment, Hagrid finally ran over, his face covered in cold sweat.
"Good heavens! Moen! Are you alright? Is Malfoy alright?"
"He's fine, just a bit shaken," Moen said, tossing Malfoy to Goyle who had rushed over. "Take him to the Hospital Wing and have him drink some Calming Draught. Don't let him talk nonsense."
Moen turned his head to look at Hagrid, and then at Buckbeak, who was still trembling.
"Hagrid, as an investor, I have a suggestion for you."
Moen straightened his slightly ruffled trench coat:
"Before the next class, feed these big guys some sleeping pills. Or..."
Moen's fingers gently brushed across Buckbeak's feathers, and the beast trembled, becoming even more docile.
"...or train them to be a bit more obedient."
Chapter 63: The Nightmare of Mediocrity and the Fear of Being "Formatted"
[Ding!]
[Special Node Detected: Edge of the Forbidden Forest / Magical Creatures Paddock]
[Sign-in successful!]
[Reward obtained: Extraction attempts +1]
[Current attempts: 4]
Moen glanced at the system panel, the corners of his mouth curling slightly.
"This Buckbeak is not bad. Hagrid, if you don't have time to take care of it, I don't mind taking it to my private manor."
Hagrid was stunned: "Ah? But it belongs to the school..."
"It won't be for long," Moen said meaningfully.
Because he knew that even if Malfoy didn't complain, Lucius would never let the matter drop once he found out.
An "ownership lawsuit" regarding this Hippogriff was about to begin.
And this was the perfect opportunity for Moen to intervene and "privatize" it.
"Class dismissed."
Moen waved his hand and led the Slytherin students away from the paddock.
Harry stood in place, looking at Moen's back, then at Buckbeak, who was too scared to lift its head.
"He's scarier than a monster," Ron swallowed hard.
"No," Hermione said thoughtfully, "he's stronger than a monster."
October, late autumn.
The Staff Room had been cleared out, leaving only an old wardrobe, the temporary home of the Boggart. The wardrobe was shaking, with thumping sounds coming from inside.
"Don't worry," Professor Lupin said gently; he looked much better than at the start of the term, thanks to the high-purity Wolfsbane Potion provided by Moen. "Inside is just a Boggart. It's a Shapeshifter that turns into what you fear most."
The Gryffindor and Slytherin students crowded together. Neville Longbottom's face turned pale with fear.
"Longbottom, you go first," Lupin encouraged.
The subsequent events were as comical as in the original story.
Neville feared Snape most, and the "Riddikulus" spell made Snape wear Neville's grandmother's unforgettable women's clothing, carrying a large red handbag and a hat topped with a stuffed vulture.
Roars of laughter.
"That's the secret to fighting a Boggart—laughter," Lupinpraised. "Next, Ron."
Ron faced a giant spider and put roller skates on it.
"Next... Mr. White."
Lupin suddenly called his name.
His gaze fell on Moen, who was leaning against the wall, looking at the wardrobe with the eyes of someone inspecting merchandise.
Lupin was curious.
What did this young man, who sliced up Dementors, provided potions to Werewolves, and even controlled the school's public opinion to some extent, fear deep in his heart?
Was it Voldemort?
Or something even darker?
The whole class went quiet.
Malfoy looked at Moen somewhat nervously: "Boss, if you're scared, I'll let Crabbe take your place."
"Scared?"
Moen chuckled, adjusted the collar of his trench coat, and walked elegantly to the wardrobe, leaning on his Black Ironwood Cane.
"Fear is a defense mechanism of the brain, Draco. Only by facing it can you dismantle it."
Moen stood before the wardrobe in a posture of absolute confidence.
"Come out," Moen said calmly.
The wardrobe door popped open again.
The spider with roller skates disappeared.
A cloud of black smoke rolled in place, seemingly struggling to read Moen's thoughts.
The [Multiple Mind Core (Purple)] was running frantically like layers of firewalls, wrapping Moen's true emotions. The Boggart was confused; it couldn't find a clear entity of fear.
Finally, it seemed to find a crack in the deepest part of Moen's soul—in his memories from before the reincarnation.
*Poof.*
The black smoke dissipated.
Neither Voldemort nor a corpse appeared.
What appeared before everyone was an office desk.
The desk was piled high with never-ending documents, and a cup of cheap instant coffee sat beside them.
Behind the desk sat a middle-aged man in a cheap suit, with a receding hairline and hollow, numb eyes.
The man was mechanically tapping on a keyboard—it was... Moen from his past life, mediocre, powerless, a corporate slave until the end.
That "middle-aged Moen" looked up, staring at the current Moen with dead-fish eyes, opened his mouth, and spoke in an utterly exhausted voice:
"This is the end... You can't escape... In this life, you're just an insignificant cog..."
The whole class was stunned.
They didn't understand. What kind of monster was this? A balding middle-aged man? What was there to be afraid of?
Only Moen.
His pupils suddenly constricted to the size of pinpricks.
His originally indifferent hands gripped the wand tightly, his knuckles turning white.
Mediocrity.
Losing power.
Losing control.
Becoming just another replaceable protagonist among the masses.
This was his greatest nightmare. It was also the root of his frantic pursuit of money, power, and traits.
"A very interesting choice of topic."
Moen's voice became extremely cold, a chilling frost below zero.
"You use this method to remind me that if I lose, if I stop moving forward, I'll turn back into that trash, is that it?"
Moen didn't raise his wand to chant "Riddikulus."
Because he didn't find it funny. Not funny at all.
He suddenly raised his right hand.
He didn't use a wand; instead, he spread his five fingers and aimed directly at the "middle-aged man."
[Gate of Truth (Gold)] — Concept Erasure · Matter Pulverization.
[Half-Giant Bloodline] — Magic Outburst.
"This kind of future..."
A golden fire of rage ignited in Moen's eyes:
"...I refuse to accept!"
"Begone!"
BOOM—!!!
No incantation was spoken.
A terrifying, visible golden shockwave erupted from Moen's palm.
That wasn't a transformation spell for the Boggart; it was a pure, destructive torrent of magic.
The "middle-aged man," the office desk, and even the Boggart itself disintegrated instantly in this golden torrent.
"Screech—!!!"
The Boggart let out a shrill scream.
It wasn't "laughed away"; it was "blasted apart."
It turned into wisps of blue smoke, desperately trying to flee back into the wardrobe as if it were the safest refuge in the world.
*Bang!*
The wardrobe door slammed shut.
The entire wardrobe was still shaking violently; the Boggart was shivering in fear.
A deathly silence filled the classroom.
Professor Lupin looked at Moen in shock.
He had never seen anyone pass the Boggart's test in such a way—not by overcoming fear, but by pulverizing it.
"A brilliant... release of magic," Lupin swallowed and led the applause, "though a bit... violent. Ten points to Slytherin."
Moen withdrew his hand and adjusted his breathing, the golden light in his eyes gradually fading.
"Sorry, Professor," Moen regained his elegant demeanor. "I have a bit of 'morning grumpiness.' I don't like seeing such tasteless things."
He walked back to the Slytherin group.
Malfoy looked at him in awe: "Moen, who was that balding man? Was it your father?"
Moen gave him a cold look: "That was a dead man. A dead man who will never appear again."
Chapter 64: The "Sinner" Who Broke Into the castle
Halloween Eve.
Hogwarts was holding a grand banquet.
But for Harry, it was a bitter night.
Because he was the only student in the third year and above who could not go to Hogsmeade.
"How pitiful."
As Harry walked alone down the corridor, Moen returned with a group of students carrying sweets and joke items.
"Want some?" Moen handed Harry a box of Fizzing Whizbees.
"I don't need your pity," Harry said stiffly.
"It's not pity, it's an exchange." Moen pointed at Harry's pocket, where the Marauder's Map was hidden, though it hadn't been discovered yet. "Some things, if you don't know how to use them, are better off given to me."
Harry didn't understand and turned to run away.
After the banquet ended, the students returned to Gryffindor Tower.
But they were blocked outside.
"What's going on?" Harry squeezed into the crowd.
The portrait of The Fat Lady had been slashed. Shreds of canvas were scattered on the floor, and The Fat Lady was nowhere to be found.
"Someone broke in!" Percy shouted.
Dumbledore arrived. His expression was grim as he ordered Peeves to tell the truth.
"He was in a right old state," Peeves giggled. "Because The Fat Lady wouldn't let him in. That man with the messy, filthy hair..."
"Sirius Black."
A collective gasp went through the crowd.
That murderer! Right here in the castle!
All students were urgently evacuated to the Great Hall to spend the night.
Amidst the chaos, Moen White did not go to get a sleeping bag.
Standing in the shadows of a corner, he pulled an exquisite Silver Alchemy Plate from his robes.
On the surface of the plate, a red light was flashing frantically.
That was the location of Scabbers, Peter Pettigrew.
The light showed that the rat was neither in the Great Hallnor in Gryffindor Tower.
It was moving out of the castle at extreme speed.
"That's more like it."
Moen watched the light, a hunter's cold smile curling at the corner of his mouth.
"The rat has sensed the cat's scent; it's terrified and wants to flee."
"But, Peter."
Moen put away the compass, his fingers stroking his cane.
"The collar around your neck isn't just an ornament."
He turned and walked toward Professor Snape, who was maintaining order.
"Professor," Moen said in a low voice, "I think tonight is a good opportunity to catch the 'intruder.' Instead of running around the castle like a headless fly, why not check the edge of the Forbidden Forest?"
"What do you know?" Snape narrowed his eyes.
"Intuition." Moen pointed to his head. "Or... a certain 'prophecy.'"
"Professor Lupin seems very sensitive to that direction. Perhaps you could ask him about that touching 'friendship' between him and Black."
Moen's attempt to sow discord was perfectly timed.
Snape's face instantly darkened, his Black robes billowing as he strode toward Lupin.
"The show begins."
Moen looked at the chaotic Great Hall, found a comfortable sleeping bag, and lay down.
"Tonight, no one is getting a good night's sleep."
[Task Update: Capture Sirius Black (Misunderstanding Cleared/Vindication)]
[Task Update: Capture Peter Pettigrew (Key Witness)]
[Current Draw Count: 12]
"Still have to wait a bit." Moen closed his eyes. "The best time to catch them all in one net is when that rat runs under the Whomping Willow."
The Great Hall.
Hundreds upon hundreds of purple sleeping bags covered the floor like a purple ocean.
The magical starry sky on the ceiling had been charmed to look exceptionally peaceful, but it could not soothe the fear in the students' hearts.
No one could sleep; whispers echoed through the hall like mosquitoes.
"Do you think Black is still in the castle?"
"Maybe he turned into a ghost..."
In the Slytherin area, Moen White hadn't crawled into a sleeping bag.
He was dressed in a neat shirt and trousers, draped in a heavy trench coat, leaning against a pillar and reading a document on the "History of Goblin Rebellions at Gringotts" by the dim candlelight.
Beside him, Draco was shivering inside his sleeping bag, his wand clutched tightly in his hand.
"Moen..." Draco whispered, "Aren't you afraid? That murderer is right outside."
"Afraid?" Moen turned a page, not looking up. "Draco, if Black came here to kill, he would have done it already. He shredded the portrait but didn't enter... he's looking for something specific."
"Something specific?"
"For example... a rat," Moen said meaningfully.
Just then, a tossing and turning figure caught Moen's attention.
In the Gryffindor area not far away, Harry Potter sat up.
He clearly couldn't sleep either.
Moen closed his book, picked up his cane, stepped over several sleeping Hufflepuff students, and walked to Harry's side.
"Can't sleep? Mr. Savior."
Harry jumped, looking up to see it was Moen, his expression complicated. "It's you... everyone's asleep."
"Only those with no worries can sleep." Moen sat down on the empty floor next to Harry, his movements casual. "Thinking about Black?"
"He's looking for me." Harry clenched his fists. "I heard it, everyone says he wants to kill me to avenge Voldemort."
"Is that so?"
Moen gave a light chuckle, one tinged with a hint of mockery.
"Harry, use your brain. If he were a die-hard follower of Voldemort, and if he were truly as mad and powerful as the legends say, he was in Azkaban for twelve years. Why didn't he escape sooner or later? Why this year of all years?"
Harry was stunned. "Be... because I started school?"
"You've been at Hogwarts for two years already," Moenpointed out coldly. "Moreover, it's said that before he escaped, he asked Minister Fudge for a newspaper."
"A newspaper?"
"Exactly. A newspaper with a photo of the Weasleys on vacation in Egypt."
Moen leaned forward slightly, staring into Harry's eyes as if guiding a lost child:
"What was in that photo? Besides the Weasleys, there was a rat missing a toe."
A realization exploded in Harry's mind.
A rat? Scabbers?
He remembered the collar Moen had put on Scabbers, and he remembered Moen's constant hostility toward the rat.
"You mean..." Harry felt his throat go dry, "Black is after... Ron's rat?"
"It's just a businessman's speculation." Moen stood up and brushed the dust off his trench coat. "The truth is often more absurd than rumors. Harry, sometimes the 'enemy' your eyes see might just be a scapegoated madman; while the 'pet' you hold in your arms might be the true demon."
"Get some sleep. The weather won't be very good for tomorrow's Quidditch match."
Moen turned and left.
Leaving Harry sitting alone in the dark, looking at the rise and fall of Ron's sleeping bag nearby, feeling a chill run from the soles of his feet straight to the top of his head.
Chapter 65: "Product" Testing and Investment
The next day, at the Quidditch pitch.
Wild winds and torrential rain.
This was the worst weather for a match in Hogwartshistory. Gryffindor was up against Hufflepuff, the team led by Cedric Diggory.
In the stands, umbrellas couldn't hold up at all, blown inside out in an instant.
Moen sat at the very top of the Slytherin stands, where the view was best.
He didn't use an umbrella.
[Gate of Truth (Gold)]— Airflow Manipulation.
All the rainwater automatically slid away three inches from his body, forming a vacuum-like dry field.
He could even elegantly sip hot coffee from a thermos.
"This is pure torture!" Malfoy, wearing a raincoat, shouted from beside him. "Potter will definitely lose! He won't be able to see a thing through his glasses in this rain!"
"Not necessarily." Moen watched the red figure darting up and down in the air. "Hermione Granger cast a Waterproofing Charm on him. However... today's variable isn't the weather."
Moen put down his binoculars.
[True Sight] activated.
He wasn't watching the match; instead, he looked toward the Forbidden Forest at the edge of the pitch.
At the very top of the highest stand, a huge, bear-like black dog was crouching in the curtain of rain, staring intently at Harry in the middle of the pitch.
Sirius Black.
"So you really did come." Moen's lips curled slightly.
At the same time, another colder, more massive aura was converging beneath the pitch.
It was over a hundred Dementors.
They were hungry.
The excitement of the thousands of students on the pitch was like a feast to them.
"Match start!" Madam Hooch's whistle was drowned out by thunder.
Harry rode his Nimbus 2000 into the sky.
But soon, something went wrong.
A bone-chilling cold enveloped the entire pitch. All the cheering vanished.
Below, dense swarms of Dementors rose like black, rotting rags. They surrounded the pitch, countless invisible mouths sucking the happiness from the air.
Harry froze in mid-air.
He heard his mother's screams before her death.
His body lost control, falling from a height of fifty feet.
"Potter is falling!" Malfoy shrieked with excitement.
"Idiot," Moen cursed under his breath.
He didn't look at the falling Harry, because Dumbledorehad already stood up, and that silver spell was taking shape.
Moen looked at several Dementors approaching the Slytherin stands.
They seemed to think the scent of 'fear' and 'ambition' over here was quite good too.
"Since you're here, don't leave."
Moen pulled three alchemical products he had developed over the summer break from his pocket.
[Anti-Dementor Grenade]
It was made from a mixture of Dementor slices, Mandrakejuice, and high-explosive alchemical gunpowder.
"Go."
Moen gave a casual toss.
Three small silver spheres flew toward the approaching Dementors.
Boom! Boom! Boom!
There was no fire.
Only three clouds of blinding silver mist with holy properties exploded in the air.
The mist contained concentrated 'Happiness Extract,' which Moen had refined from tons of candy bought from Honeydukes.
"Hiss—!!!"
The Dementors let out agonizing shrieks. This concentrated happiness bomb was like acid to them.
They retreated in panic, even colliding with one another.
"Experiment successful." Moen satisfiedly recorded the data. "This concentration of Happiness Extract can cause physical damage, but it can't kill them."
At this moment, in the center of the pitch, Dumbledore had already acted.
"Expecto Patronum!"
A massive silver Phoenix drove away all the Dementors and caught Harry with a Cushioning Charm.
But Harry's broom wasn't so lucky.
The Nimbus 2000 was blown away by the wind, flying straight toward the Whomping Willow.
"Crack, crack."
Even through the rain, everyone could imagine the fate of that broom... Hospital Wing.
When Harry woke up, he saw Ron and Hermione's mud-splattered faces.
"We lost," Ron said sadly. "Cedric caught the Snitch. And... Harry, your broom..."
Ron dumped a bag of Wood splinters and bent twigs onto the bed.
It was the wreckage of the Nimbus 2000.
Harry felt like a piece of his heart was missing; that was his most precious partner.
"What a pity."
A voice came from the doorway.
Moen White walked in, carrying a long object wrapped in black cloth.
"White?" Wood, the Gryffindor captain, looked at him warily. "Are you here to mock us?"
"No, Captain Wood." Moen shook his head. "I'm here to do business."
He walked to Harry's bedside and looked at the pile of Wood splinters.
"Nimbus 2000, a decent broom, but unfortunately too fragile. The Whomping Willow doesn't have a good temper."
Moen placed the long package at the foot of Harry's bed.
"Open it and see, Harry."
Harry unwrapped the black cloth in confusion.
A broomstick, pitch black all over with a wild design and metal jet nozzles at the tail, lay there quietly.
It was Moen's personal ride—the [Black Swan (Black Swan)].
However, this [Black Swan] looked a bit more restrained, without so many menacing spikes.
"This is..." Harry was stunned.
"Black Swan · Mass Production Model," Moen introduced. "This is the first civilian version I've launched with German craftsmanship after acquiring the Nimbus Company."
"Its speed is 10% faster than the Nimbus 2001, and its durability is three times that of a Nimbus. Plus, it's been fitted with an 'Anti-Adverse Weather' alchemical coating."
Moen looked at Harry:
"It's yours."
"What?!" everyone in the ward cried out in shock.
Ron's eyes looked like they were about to pop out.
"That's a trade secret," Moen smiled. "However, for a spokesperson, the product is free."
"Spokesperson?" Harry was dazed.
"Exactly." Moen pulled a parchment contract from his robes. "As long as you ride this to win your upcoming matches and say 'White Heavy Industries, strictly premium quality' during post-match interviews, this broom is yours."
"Of course, if you refuse, I'll give it to Malfoy. I think he'd be quite happy to fly circles over your head with it."
This was an overt scheme.
Harry looked at the incredibly cool broom, then at the pile of Wood splinters.
He needed a broom—one that could defeat Dementors and defeat Malfoy.
"I'll sign," Harry said through gritted teeth.
"A wise choice." Moen handed over a quill.
After the signature was done, Moen tucked away the contract, feeling pleased.
This wasn't just an advertisement; it was a further 'binding' of Savior.
"Get some rest, Harry."
Walking out of the Hospital Wing, the smile on Moen's face vanished.
He pulled that Alchemy Compass from his pocket.
The red dot for Scabbers was still in the castle, but just now, the black light representing Sirius had been very close to the castle walls.
"The big dog has already caught the scent."
Moen gripped his cane.
"Next, it's about leading these two animals into the same cage."
[Current Extraction Count: 5]
[Target: Marauder's Map]
"The the Weasley twins..." Moen narrowed his eyes. "Looks like I'll have to go talk to those two jokers about a 'patent acquisition'."
Chapter 66: The Prank Financing Case and the Three Broomsticks Eavesdropping Operation
Mid-December, heavy snow was falling.
Hogwarts castle was covered in thick snow, like it was wearing a giant white nightcap.
Today was the last Hogsmeade weekend before the end of the term.
Harry Potter stood alone on the marble staircase, watching Ron and Hermione, bundled in scarves, follow the crowd toward the gate. He couldn't go because he didn't have a parent's signature.
"Goodbye, Harry," Ron said sympathetically. "We'll bring you back some Cockroach Clusters."
Harry forced a smile and waved, preparing to turn back to Gryffindor Tower to face the deserted common room.
"Psst, Harry! Over here!"
A hand suddenly pulled him behind the Statue of the One-Eyed Witch.
It was Fred and George.
"We've got something good for you," Fred said mysteriously, pulling an old, blank piece of parchment from his robes. "This is the secret to our success."
"I solemnly swear that I am up to no good." George tapped the parchment with his wand.
Ink lines spread across the paper, mapping out Hogwartsin detail, along with hundreds of moving Black dots.
[The Marauder's Map]
"This is..." Harry was stunned.
"Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs," Fred said proudly. "They are our idols."
"A very creative Alchemy product."
An abrupt, cold voice sounded from the shadow of the statue.
The twins were so startled they nearly dropped the map, and Harry turned around in alarm.
Moen White lifted the Disillusionment Charm and materialized from the air.
He was wearing a tailored Black cashmere overcoat and holding his Black Ironwood Cane, staring at the parchment with the eye of an antique connoisseur.
"Moen?!" the twins exclaimed in unison. "You were following us?"
"I am evaluating a project."
Moen neither confiscated the map nor called Filch.
He stepped forward, reached out his gloved hand, and gently stroked the edge of the map.
"A Tracking Charm, a Personality Manifestation Charm, and an extremely clever Homomorphic Vengeance Charm," Moen praised. "The four creators are geniuses. Although their taste is a bit vulgar, this doesn't diminish the commercial value of this item."
"What do you want, White?" George asked cautiously, hiding the map behind him. "You're a Slytherin, are you going to report us?"
"Report?" Moen sneered. "Leave that childish behavior to Malfoy."
Moen pulled a golden Gringotts check from his robes, holding it between two fingers, and handed it to the twins.
"One thousand Galleons."
The twins' eyes immediately glazed over. They had never seen so much money in their lives.
"This is the angel round investment for 'Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes'," Moen said lightly. "I know you are developing prank products. It's a very promising market. I want to buy in and take a 40% stake."
"What are the conditions?" Fred swallowed hard, struggling to pull his gaze away from the check.
"Two conditions."
Moen held up two fingers:
"First, let me 'look' at this map—and I mean, a deep look."
"Second, lend this map to Mr. Potter. He needs to go to Hogsmeade to hear some'stories'."
The twins exchanged glances.
A thousand Galleons! How many fireworks and Skiving Snackbox could that buy? And Moen wasn't planning to steal the map, just look at it?
"Deal!" The twins quickly snatched the check, afraid Moenwould change his mind.
"A wise choice, future CEOs."
Moen smiled slightly. He stretched out his hand and pressed his palm onto the Marauder's Map.
[Contact successful!]
[High-level Alchemy Item detected: Marauder's Map]
[Core Law]: Omniscient Sight (Based on the Hogwarts Contract)
[Current remaining extraction attempts]: 8
"Extract."
[Extraction attempts consumed x 5]
[Probability stacking judgment... Success!]
[Congratulations on obtaining the Trait]: Tracker Network (Purple · Alchemy Blueprint)
[Description]: You have mastered the core logic of creating the "Marauder's Map." You can apply this logic to any of your Alchemy products to build a massive monitoring network.
Moen withdrew his hand, and a complex magical circuit diagram appeared in his mind.
With this, he could upgrade his "White Security System," placing the entire Wizarding World under his surveillance.
"A very ingenious design," Moen commented. "Especially the creator called 'Wormtail'; although despicable in character, he certainly possesses some cleverness in Rune Structure."
He pushed the map toward Harry.
"Take it, Harry." Moen looked at the bewildered savior. "Go to Hogsmeade. Go to the Three Broomsticks pub. The answers you seek are there."
"What answers do you know?" Harry asked.
"About your parents, about Sirius, and..." Moen's eyes deepened, "about betrayal."
...One hour later, Hogsmeade, the Three Broomsticks pub.
Outside, the cold wind howled, but the pub was warm and noisy, packed with students drinking Butterbeer.
Moen sat in a private booth on the second floor, a glass of Firewhisky in front of him. He wasn't talking to anyone, just quietly looking down at the floor below.
He activated [True Sight].
At a table downstairs, he saw Harry, draped in the Invisibility Cloak, sitting next to Ron and Hermione, eavesdropping on the conversation at the next table.
The group sitting at the next table held considerable weight:
Minister for Magic Fudge, Professor McGonagall, Hagrid, Professor Flitwick, and the bar owner, Madam Rosmerta.
"Tell us, Minister," Madam Rosmerta poured Fudge a drink. "What exactly happened with Black?"
What followed was the famous revelation scene from the original work.
It was about the Potters' Secret-Keeper, about Sirius being Harry's godfather, and about the explosion that killed twelve Muggles.
"He betrayed James and Lily!" Professor McGonagallchoked out. "He was their Secret-Keeper! No one else knew where they were!"
"Peter Pettigrew was a hero," Fudge sighed. "He tried to chase Black, and all that was left was a finger..."
Under the Invisibility Cloak, Harry trembled all over, nearly crying out.
Hatred.
Overwhelming hatred burned in his chest.
Sirius Black was not only a murderer but his parents' best friend, his godfather! He was the one who sold his parents out to Voldemort!
In the private booth on the second floor.
Moen swirled the glass in his hand, a satisfied smirk playing on his lips.
"Did you hear that, Harry?" Moen muttered to himself. "This is the official 'truth'."
"Be angry. Be hateful."
Moen looked at the figure downstairs, invisible yet emitting an extremely unstable magical aura.
"The stronger your anger, the greater the impact when you discover the truth. And the easier that rat's disguise will be torn apart."
He pulled out the silver Alchemy Compass from his robes.
The red light dot representing Scabbers was currently resting in Ron's pocket, less than half a meter away from Harry.
"How ironic," Moen took a sip of the spicy whisky. "The real killer is sleeping right next to you, yet you want to kill the only person who wants to save you."
"Young Master."
A man in a Black trench coat appeared silently behind Moen. He was the captain of the White Family Security Team, and formerly an Auror.
"We found traces of a large canine near the Shrieking Shack."
"Very good." Moen put down his glass and stood up. "Don't alarm him. That big dog is very sensitive right now."
"Also," Moen adjusted his gloves, "notify Professor Lupin. Tell him... I have a new batch of'Special Supply Potions' to deliver to him. Ask him to pick them up from my office tonight."
"Understood."
Moen looked at the heavy snow outside the window.
Christmas is approaching.
It's a good season for giving gifts.
"I think Sirius will be very moved if I send him a 'meeting gift'."
Moen's fingers lightly tapped his wand.
"Perhaps... a 'copy of the map' that allows him to move freely in and out of the castle?"
[Task Progress: Directing the "Shrieking Shack Night"]
[Current Extraction Attempts: 3]
[Target: Time-Turner]
"No rush." Moen turned and walked downstairs, his trench coat flowing like a cloud.
"Time is on my side."
Chapter 67: Forked Shadows, Rotten Rats, and Observed Time
January.
The winter at Hogwarts was long and harsh.
Although the Christmas holidays were over, the festive atmosphere in the castle had vanished, replaced by a heavier gloom.
Harry Potter had become taciturn.
Ever since he heard the "truth" at the Three Broomsticks, hatred had been growing wildly in his heart like a poisonous weed. He was no longer afraid of Black; he even wanted to find him to take revenge.
Meanwhile, Ron Weasley was worried about something else; his rat Scabbers was truly on its last legs.
It was losing hair severely, was nothing but skin and bones, and spent all day shivering in his pocket.
In a corner of the library.
Moen White was sitting behind a large oak table, in front of him piled high with profound books on "magicMechanics" and "Time Paradoxes."
But he was not reading.
His gaze passed through layers of bookshelves and landed on Hermione Granger, who was fast asleep on a table not far away.
Hermione was too tired.
In order to attend all her elective classes, she had to use that golden hourglass hanging around her neck every day, traveling back and forth through timelines. Her mental state was already on the verge of collapse.
"The price of greed."
Moen commented softly.
He activated the alchemy vision of the [Gate of Truth(Gold)].
In his field of vision, the space around Hermione was twisted. She was not just one person; behind her overlapped countless illusory shadows—these were the traces of magic left behind by her from different timelines.
"Can you see it? Her shadow has forked."
An ethereal voice sounded in his ear.
Moen was not surprised; he tilted his head slightly.
Luna Lovegood was standing by his table, he knew not when. She was wearing Ravenclaw robes, still wearing the silver amulet Moen had given her around her neck, and holding a copy of The Quibbler upside down.
"Good afternoon, Luna." Moen pulled out the chair beside him. "Sit."
Luna sat down, not reading, but staring at the sleeping Hermione with those silver-gray eyes that seemed to be covered in a layer of mist.
"Her time is in a mess," Luna said softly, her tone filled with a hint of sympathy. "Like a ball of yarn tangled by a cat. If it isn't untangled, she will trip over herself."
"You can see time?" Moen raised an eyebrow.
"I cannot see time, but I can see Wrackspurts." Lunaextended her finger and drew a circle in the air. "Her head is surrounded by golden Wrackspurts, and they are eating her energy. That is the taste of the 'past'."
"A very precise metaphor."
Moen nodded in agreement.
For a natural [Spirit Seer (Gold)] like Luna, the disturbance of the laws of time appeared in her eyes as a concrete biological form.
"That thing..." Luna pointed at the corner of the golden chain peeking out from Hermione's collar. "It is glowing. But there are Black spots in the light. It is dangerous, Moen."
"I know." Moen's fingers tapped the table lightly. "So I plan to 'repair' it for her."
Moen stood up and walked over to the sleeping Hermione.
He did not reach out to take the Time-Turner.
That would wake her up and also attract Dumbledore's attention.
He simply tapped the Black Ironwood Cane gently on the table in front of Hermione.
[Gate of Truth] — Law Resonance · Structural Replication.
Hum—
A golden ripple, visible only to Moen, spread out, instantly scanning the internal structure of the Time-Turner.
Countless complex gear structures, the composition of the magic sand inside the hourglass, and the time runes engraved upon it were rapidly modeled in Moen's mind.
[Analysis Progress: 10%... 50%... 100%]
[Congratulations! Obtained Blueprint: Ministry of MagicStandard Time-Turner (Purple · Precision Version)]
"Done."
Moen withdrew his wand.
Although he had not directly gained the ability to "manipulate time," he had already mastered the technology to manufacture this object.
As long as he had enough materials, he could mass-produce this artifact that reversed causality.
"Sleep well, Miss Granger."
Moen casually cast a [Calming Charm] on her, smoothing out her furrowed brows.
Returning to his seat, Luna was staring at Ron Weasley, who was walking over from not far away.
Ron was holding a few books in his hand, and his pocket was bulging.
Luna suddenly covered her nose, her brows tightly knitted.
"What is it?" Moen asked.
"It stinks." There was a hint of disgust in Luna's voice, which was rare for her. "That red-haired boy's pocket contains a mass of rotting things."
"Rotting?"
"Yes." Luna nodded seriously. "It is not the smell of rotting flesh. It is the soul. That thing... its soul has already gone moldy, covered in Black maggots. It is afraid, and it wants to drag that boy into the mud as well."
Moen's eyes turned icy instantly.
Scabbers, Peter Pettigrew.
Under the suppression of Moen's "collar," coupled with the fear of Sirius closing in, this rat's psychological defenses had completely collapsed. A broken Death Eater was like an unstable bomb.
"Don't worry, Luna."
Moen took a piece of Honeydukes chocolate from his pocket, unwrapped the paper, and handed it to Luna.
"That mass of rotting things will be cleaned up very soon."
"Will it be eaten by that big Black dog?" Luna took the chocolate and suddenly asked.
Moen's hand paused for a moment.
"You saw the big Black dog?"
"Yes." Luna said, mumbling with the chocolate in her mouth. "That day at the Quidditch pitch. It was squatting in the stands, looking very sad. It did not want to bite anyone; it just wanted to find its home."
"Sometimes, madmen see things more clearly than normal people," Moen sighed.
Everyone in the world thought Black was a mad dog, but only Luna saw that it was a "sad dog."
"Go back to your tower after you finish eating, Luna." Moenstood up. "There is going to be a 'big cleanup' in the castlesoon. I don't want you to be choked by the dust."
"Okay, Moen." Luna stood up obediently. "You be careful too. Your shadow... is getting heavier and heavier."
...
After Luna left, Moen stopped Ron, who was preparing to go find Hermione.
"Weasley." Moen called out to him.
"What?" Ron looked at Moen guardedly, his hand subconsciously covering his pocket.
"Your rat looks like it's dying." Moen pointed at the bulge. "The collar I gave you last time is burning hot. This indicates that its vital signs are very unstable."
"This is all because of that cat named Crookshanks!" Ronsaid angrily. "That cat Hermione bought wants to eat Scabbers all day! Scabbers was scared sick!"
"Perhaps."
Moen did not refute, but he took a step closer, and that powerful oppressive feeling forced Ron to step back.
"But I suggest you keep a close eye on it recently."
Moen lowered his voice, his tone carrying a hint of imperceptible warning:
"Rats, as a species, usually do some crazy things before they die. For example... biting off their owner's finger and then running away."
Ron was startled. "What did you say?"
"Nothing." Moen straightened up, returning to his indifferent demeanor. "Just a piece of after-sales advice from the collar sponsor. If it goes missing, remember to tell me immediately. My collar has a tracking function."
Having said that, Moen turned and left the library.
In the corridor.
Moen took out the silver Alchemy Compass.
The red dot, Scabbers, was indeed vibrating violently; it was a frequency of extreme fear.
"It can feel it."
Moen looked out the window.
A ginger cat, Crookshanks, was squatting in a tree in the courtyard, staring fixedly at the castle window. And beside that cat, one could vaguely see the shadow of a huge Blackdog.
Sirius and Crookshanks had formed an alliance.
They were plotting how to break into Gryffindor Tower and catch that rat.
"The stage is set."
Moen put away the compass, toying with a Galleon in his hand.
"If Peter doesn't 'die' once, the plot cannot advance. And Sirius cannot clear his name."
"Then..."
A gleam of light flashed in Moen's eyes.
"...let me help you arrange a 'wonderful' reunion."
[Remaining Draws: 15]
"Still a little bit short." Moen walked towards the dungeons. "Once that rat is caught, I must extract the [Animagus (Purple)] and [Absolute Betrayal (Purple)] from it; only then will it be worthy of my layout over this past year."
Chapter 68: The Midnight Blade and the Rat's "Electronic Fence"
February, deep in the night.
In the Gryffindor Tower boys' dormitory, snores rose and fell in succession.
Neville Longbottom had been given detention by Professor McGonagall for the entire day for losing the password list, and he was now sleeping like a dead pig.
In his dreams, Harry Potter seemed to see that figure riding a broom, dashing through the wind and rain—not himself, but Moen.
And on Ron Weasley's bed, the rat named Scabbers was curled up under the pillow, its fur standing on end.
It was trembling.
Not just because that damned cat, Crookshanks, was prowling outside the window, but more so because of the cold silver collar around its neck.
For the past few months, this collar had been like a curse.
No matter how it gnawed, scratched, or even tried to transform back into human form, the collar would release a current that paralyzed it, forcibly interrupting its transformation process.
That Slytherin called Moen White.
He knew! He must know!
Peter Pettigrew's bean-sized eyes were filled with despair.
He felt not like a pet, but like a prisoner waiting to be slaughtered.
Suddenly.
A familiar, soul-freezing aura appeared in the dormitory.
There was no sound of the door opening.
But the air was filled with a stale, rotten smell peculiar to Azkaban, as well as... the smell of a dog.
A shadow loomed over Ron's bed.
Moonlight shone through the gaps in the curtains, illuminating a thin, withered hand holding a long knife.
Sirius Black stood before the bed, flames of revenge burning in his deep-set eyes, staring fixedly at the lump bulging under the pillow.
"Found you..." Black whispered hoarsely.
He raised the knife and stabbed down viciously!
"Squeak—!"
Scabbers let out a shriek; it was its survival instinct. It darted out from under the pillow, fleeing desperately toward the foot of the bed.
The blade sliced through the pillow and sheets, landing only a few inches from Ron's throat.
"Ah—!"
Ron was startled awake.
He opened his eyes, saw the madman holding the knife, and let out a shrill scream.
The entire dormitory exploded in chaos.
Harry sat up abruptly, fumbling for his glasses.
Neville rolled off his bed.
Black ignored Ron's screams; he only wanted to kill the rat. He lunged to grab Scabbers.
But just then, an unexpected change occurred.
As Scabbers tried to bolt out of the dormitory door, the silver collar around its neck suddenly lit up with a blinding red light.
Zzz—!
"Squeak—!"
A sound that didn't sound like a rat at all, but rather like a human scream, erupted from Scabbers' mouth.
The collar released a high-voltage magic current.
The "electronic fence" set by Moen had taken effect; without permission, it was forbidden to leave the host (Ron) beyond a certain range.
Scabbers was convulsing from the electric shock, frozen stiff at the doorway.
Black was stunned for a moment; he hadn't expected the rat to be immobilized.
He was overjoyed and lunged at it again.
"Get away!"
Harry finally put on his glasses, grabbed his wand, and pointed it at the dark shadow, "Stupefy!"
Black had to abandon the rat, dodging the spell to the side, shattering the window glass, transforming into a huge Black dog, and jumping into the night.
And Scabbers, the rat shocked half to death, took advantage of the chaos, endured the intense pain, and crawled into a crack in the floor.
Although the collar restricted it from leaving Ron too far, on this chaotic night, it had to find a place to hide.
...
Ten minutes later, the common room.
Professor McGonagall arrived in her tartan dressing gown, her face livid.
"You mean to say, Sirius Black stood at your bedside with a knife?" she asked Ron sternly.
"Yes!" Ron said, wrapped in a blanket, trembling all over, "He wanted to kill me! And... and my rat... it glowed! It made a human sound!"
"Glowed?" Professor McGonagall frowned.
"It's that collar!" Harry suddenly remembered, "The collar Moen put on Scabbers! He said it was a tracker!"
...
At the same time, the Slytherin dungeon.
Moen White was not sleeping.
He sat on the sofa in the common room, holding the Alchemy Compass.
The red dot on the compass had just experienced a violent tremor and was now staying motionless in a crack in the wall of Gryffindor Tower.
"Triggered."
Moen looked at the compass, the corners of his mouth curling upward.
"Defense mechanism activated. It seems our big dog friend is a bit impatient tonight."
"Young Master." Alfred stood to the side, draping a coat over Moen, "Do you need to close the net now?"
"No."
Moen shook his head.
"Going to catch it now would only get me a rat. That's meaningless."
Moen stood up, walked to the window, and looked at the dark bottom of the lake.
"What I want is—"
"Sirius, Peter, Lupin, and that Marauder's Map... I want them to take their final bow on the same stage."
"Tomorrow morning, send a letter to Professor Lupin."
Moen's eyes flashed with calculated light:
"Tell him I saw a dead man's name on the 'Marauder's Map'. Ask him if he is interested in coming to my office for tea to chat about the topic of 'resurrection'."
...
The next day, the Defense Against the Dark ArtsProfessor's office.
Lupin looked even more haggard than usual. Last night's break-in had kept him awake all night. He was not only worried about Harry's safety, but deep down, he also doubted—how did Black get in? Could his old friends have helped him?
"Knock, knock."
"Please come in."
Moen pushed the door open and entered.
He was wearing his neat school uniform and holding a folded piece of parchment.
"Good morning, Professor Lupin." Moen greeted politely, "I hope I didn't disturb your rest. But I found something... very interesting, and I think you should see it."
Moen placed the parchment on the table.
It was the [Marauder's Map]. It had been dropped during the chaos last night and was being "temporarily kept" by Moen.
"This is..." Lupin's expression changed.
"You should be familiar with this, Mr. 'Moony'." Moendirectly exposed his identity.
Lupin looked at Moen in shock: "You know?"
"I am a Slytherin, Professor. I don't believe in coincidences, only intelligence."
Moen extended his wand and tapped the map.
"I solemnly swear that I am up to no good."
The map revealed itself.
Moen pointed to a corner of Gryffindor Tower.
There was a small Black ink dot, with the name clearly visible:
Peter Pettigrew.
Lupin stood up abruptly, knocking his chair over.
He stared fixedly at the name, his face instantly turning as pale as a dead man's.
"Impossible..." Lupin muttered to himself, "He died... Siriuskilled him..."
"The map never lies, Professor."
Moen watched him calmly:
"If Peter is still alive, then the case from twelve years ago, could there be another explanation?"
"For example... the one who truly betrayed the Potters was actually this rat playing dead?"
Lupin's hands trembled as he grabbed the map.
His worldview collapsed at this moment. If Peter was alive, that meant Sirius... was innocent?
"Where is he?" Lupin's voice was hoarse, "Where is he?"
"He is in Mr. Weasley's pocket. That pet rat that has lived for twelve years and is missing a finger."
Moen gave the final answer.
"Professor, now we are facing a choice."
Moen walked to Lupin's side, whispering like a demon:
"Should we hand this over to the Ministry of Magic and let them go through that long, bureaucratic process where the rat might even escape?"
"Or... should we do it ourselves, set a trap, and let the three friends from back then have a 'class reunion' that is twelve years late?"
Lupin looked up, and for the first time, a wolfish light ignited in his gentle eyes.
"How?" Lupin asked.
"Very simple."
Moen took the bottle of [Side-effect-free Wolfsbane Potion (Enhanced Version)] from his pocket and placed it on the table.
"Drink it. Stay clear-headed."
"Then, tonight... we go to the Shrieking Shack."
"I think Mr. Black will be there too. Because the collar on that rat will guide the big dog to the right place."
Moen adjusted his collar and turned toward the door.
"Bring your wand, Professor."
"Tonight, we are going to hunt the traitor."
Chapter 69: The Shareholders' Meeting at the Shrieking Shack and the Electrocuted Rat
June 6th, dusk.
The sun sank slowly behind the Forbidden Forest, dyeing the Hogwarts grounds a blood red.
An unsettling silence permeated the air.
Beside Hagrid's hut.
The executioner Macnair was sharpening his axe; the harsh sound of friction carried far into the quiet evening.
Minister for Magic Fudge and Dumbledore were inside the hut, having a final conversation with Hagrid.
Meanwhile, at the third-floor window of the castle.
Moen White held a glass of ice water, watching all of this coldly through the one-way glass.
"Young Master, are you not going to save that Hippogriff?" Alfred asked. "You said it was your'scheduled asset'."
"Asset delivery takes time, Alfred." Moen watched the three small Black dots in the distance—the Harry trio—sneaking out of the castle under an Invisibility Cloak. "Besides, in this time loop, some things must 'appear' to have happened."
Moen set down his glass.
He pulled that silver Alchemy Compass from his embrace.
The red dot on it, Pettigrew, was trembling violently, located near Hagrid's hut.
And another Black dot representing a high-risk creature, Sirius, was rushing toward that red dot from the edge of the Forbidden Forest at great speed.
"The hound has entered the field."
Moen straightened the collar of his trench coat and picked up his Black Ironwood Cane.
"Let's go. To the Shrieking Shack."
"There is a wonderful 'family drama' there tonight, and it wouldn't do to be without an audience."
...
Under the Whomping Willow.
Harry, Ron, and Hermione had just snuck out of Hagrid's hut.
They had originally intended to save Buckbeak, but had not succeeded.
Now, they were hiding under the Invisibility Cloak, listening to the sound of an axe chopping into a wooden post behind them; it was the sound of chopping pumpkins, but they believed Buckbeak had died.
Hermione was crying.
Ron was desperately holding onto his pocket.
"It's gone mad!" Ron said in pain. "Scabbers has gone mad! It's biting me! And that collar... that damn collar is discharging electricity!"
Inside the pocket, Scabbers was experiencing hell.
It smelled it.
That madman Sirius was nearby! It wanted to run, to transform, but Moen's collar locked its magic tightly, and every struggle resulted in a violent electric shock.
"Squeak, squeak, squeak—!!!"
Just then, a huge Black shadow darted out from the grass.
It was a Black dog as big as a bear.
It ignored Harry and Hermione, lunging straight for Ron—or rather, straight for Ron's pocket.
"Ah!"
Ron was tackled.
The Black dog bit his leg and, like dragging a ragdoll, pulled him toward the tree hole of the Whomping Willow.
"Ron!" Harry and Hermione shouted and gave chase.
But the Whomping Willow swung its branches wildly, blocking their path.
After a bitter struggle, thanks to Hermione remembering to press that knot, the two finally squeezed into the secret passage.
...
The Shrieking Shack, second floor.
This was a room full of dust, with all the furniture smashed to pieces.
Ron sat slumped...
The Black dog disappeared.
In its place was a man standing in the shadows.
A head of matted hair, sallow skin, and sunken eye sockets.
Sirius Black.
"He's there!" Ron pointed at Black, shouting in terror. "He's an Animagus!"
Harry rushed in.
When he saw the enemy who had betrayed his parents, his reason instantly evaporated. He roared and lunged at Black, and the two wrestled together. Harry's wand was pressed against Black's throat.
"Are you going to kill me, Harry?" Black laughed hoarsely, a smile uglier than crying. "You are just like your father..."
"Shut up!" Harry's hands were shaking. "You killed them!"
"Expelliarmus!"
A red light flashed. Harry's wand flew away.
Professor Lupin strode in. He looked calm, but...
"If you want to kill Harry, you have to kill us first!" Hermione stood in front of Harry.
"No, Hermione." Harry looked on in shock as Lupin pulled the fallen Black up and even hugged him. "Professor? You... you are with him?"
"I once thought he was a traitor." Lupin's voice trembled. "Until someone showed me the Marauder's Map."
"That map never lies!" Black pointed at Ron. "He's there! That traitor! Peter Pettigrew! He is in that boy's pocket!"
"You're crazy!" Ron yelled. "Scabbers is a rat! It's lived in my house for twelve years!"
"Twelve years? Isn't that a bit too long for an ordinary rat?"
A cold, elegant voice, completely out of place in this dilapidated room, suddenly came from the doorway.
Everyone turned their heads sharply.
Moen White was standing at the doorway.
He wasn't even holding his wand; he was just leaning on his Black Ironwood Cane with both hands, like an aristocrat inspecting a construction site, his eyes sweeping over the dust-covered floor with disdain.
"Good evening, everyone."
Moen stepped inside, his leather shoes treading on the rotting floorboards, making a teeth-gritting creaking sound.
"This place really needs a renovation. If I were the owner, I would sue the tenant who turned this place into a dump."
"White?!" Harry gritted his teeth. "Are you here to watch a joke? There is a murderer here!"
"A murderer?"
Moen walked to the center of the room, his gaze shifting between Black and Scabbers.
"Are you talking about this big dog waving a knife around? Or..."
Moen raised his hand and snapped his fingers lightly at the rat in Ron's arms.
Zzz—!!!
"Squeak-roar—!!!"
Scabbers suddenly let out a horrific scream, bounced out of Ron's arms, and rolled on the ground in pain. The silver collar on its neck lit up with a blinding red light.
"You see, Ron." Moen looked at the rat with a smile. "The gift I gave you is of pretty good quality, isn't it? It can not only track location but also... forcibly cancel an Animagustransformation."
"What?!"
In the horrified gazes of everyone, Moen's wand pointed sharply at the rat on the ground.
[Gate of Truth]—Forced Restoration.
"Reveal your true form."
A blinding blue-white light struck Scabbers.
The rat's body began to twist and expand. The squealing turned into a man's groan.
A few seconds later.
A short, fat man with a pointy, rat-like nose lay on the ground. One of his hands was missing a finger.
Peter Pettigrew.
"Oh my god..." Hermione covered her mouth.
"Peter?!" Ron was so scared he nearly fainted.
Black and Lupin's eyes turned red instantly. Black roared as he lunged forward: "I'm going to kill you! Peter!"
"Control your emotions, Mr. Black."
Moen's wand barred Black's path.
A seemingly light block, yet it was like an iron gate, forcibly stopping the crazed Sirius.
[Half-Giant Strength] made it impossible for Black to move even an inch.
"What are you doing? White!" Black roared. "He is a traitor! He is a Death Eater!"
"I know." Moen said indifferently. "But this rat is now my 'witness'. If you kill it now, you will never clear your name in this lifetime, and the House of Black vault will remain frozen by the Ministry of Magic."
Moen turned his head to look at Peter, who was shivering on the ground.
"Long time no see, Mr. Pettigrew."
Moen crouched down, the [Dragon Might] making it impossible for Peter to breathe.
"I heard you are very good at running away? Even willing to blow up a street of Muggles?"
Peter burst into tears and crawled toward Harry: "Harry! I am your father's friend... that madman wants to kill me..."
"Stay away from him." Moen kicked Peter over.
He stood up, looking at Harry, Hermione, Ron, and the two Marauders of the previous generation.
Chapter 70: The Out-of-Control Moon and the "Shutdown" Werewolf
"The situation is clear now."
Moen pronounced like a judge:
"Peter is the traitor. Black was framed. And Harry…"
Moen glanced at Savior, whose face was full of shock and whose worldview was being reconstructed.
"...You almost killed the wrong person just now."
"No… this is impossible…" Harry looked at Peter's ugly face, his stomach churning.
Just then, a shadow suddenly appeared on the floor.
Professor Snape, who had been following behind wearing the Invisibility Cloak, revealed himself.
"Very brilliant deduction, White."
Snape pointed at Black and Lupin with a gloomy face, his wand trembling slightly.
"But that doesn't change the fact that they once tried to get me killed. And…" Snape looked at Moen with disgust, "Did you know all along? Have you been using my potion to help this Werewolf?"
"This is called resource integration, Professor." Moen was not afraid of Snape's anger.
"Since everyone is here."
Moen clapped his hands.
"We can start talking about business."
He walked up to Peter, the tip of his cane pressing against Peter's throat.
"Peter Pettigrew. I am giving you two choices now."
Moen's voice was like a devil's contract:
"First, I hand you over to the Dementors. They will be very happy to suck out your soul, leaving nothing behind."
"Second, you sign this 'confession' and spit out all the intelligence in your head regarding Voldemort's resurrection."
"Of course, in exchange…"
Moen glanced at Black, who had a complex look in his eyes nearby.
"Mr. Sirius Black. To celebrate your innocence, I think… you wouldn't mind entrusting those idle vaults of the House of Black at Gringotts to the 'White Investment Company' to manage, would you?"
Black was stunned.
He looked at the Slytherin boy and suddenly felt that compared to Voldemort, this child with a head full of business seemed even more unfathomable.
"As long as I can kill him…" Black gritted his teeth, "Take all the vaults!"
"Deal."
Moen showed a brilliant smile.
"System." He recited silently in his heart.
[Target detected: Sirius Black]
[Target detected: Peter Pettigrew]
[Target detected: Remus Lupin]
[Draw count: 15]
"All in." Moen looked at these three "Marauders".
"I want to pack up and take away all the talents on you."
[Drawing...]
[Congratulations on obtaining trait]: Animagus Talent (Purple · from Black/Peter)
[Congratulations on obtaining trait]: Werewolf Curse Resistance (Blue · from Lupin)
[Congratulations on obtaining trait]: Gryffindor Bravery (Purple · from Black)
Moen felt the surging power in his body and looked at the full moon about to rise outside the window.
"The only variable is that moon."
Moen glanced at Lupin.
Although he had taken the potion, transformation was inevitable in this emotionally agitated state.
"Harry." Moen suddenly called out.
"What?"
"Hold on to your wand." Moen looked at the moonlight outside the window, "The real trouble is just beginning now."
On the lawn outside the Shrieking Shack, the full moon rose.
Everything happened too quickly.
The moment that pale full moon emerged from behind the clouds, Remus Lupin's body froze.
The hand that had been gripping Peter Pettigrewloosened, and his whole body began to tremble violently.
"Run!" Black shouted, his face pale, not even bothering to catch the fleeing rat, "He forgot to take the potion! He didn't take the potion tonight!"
"No, he took it."
Moen White stood not far away, his expression still terrifyingly calm.
He was still holding the Alchemy Compass, watching the red dot representing Peter fleeing frantically toward the depths of the Forbidden Forest.
"It's just… the moonlight tonight is too 'intense'."
Lupin let out a shrill howl.
His limbs began to elongate, his head deformed, and his spine arched.
The formerly gentle Professor was turning into a bloodthirsty monster.
"Awooo—!!!"
A huge, bipedal Werewolf appeared before everyone.
There was no longer a shred of reason in its yellow eyes, only pure desire for slaughter.
It turned its head and looked at Harry, Ron, and Hermione, who were closest to it.
"Harry! Run!" Black transformed into a huge Black dog and lunged at the Werewolf, trying to block it.
But this Werewolf was stronger than ever, perhaps because Moen's potion, while suppressing the toxicity, had also strengthened its physique.
The Black dog was swatted away by the Werewolf, crashing heavily into the trunk of the Whomping Willowwith a whimper.
The Werewolf opened its bloody maw and lunged at Harry.
Harry raised his wand, his mind blank.
"Shutdown."
A voice without emotion rang out.
There was no light from a spell.
Moen White just raised his hand and snapped his fingers crisply.
Snap.
The Werewolf, currently in mid-air in a pouncing stance, suddenly spasmed violently, as if its bones had been removed.
Immediately after, a shocking scene occurred.
The Werewolf let out a painful whimper.
A strange blue light suddenly welled up in its eyes, which had been full of murderous intent.
That was the color of the alchemy potion.
All the [Wolfsbane Potion (White special edition)] and [nanoscale magic lock] that Moen had provided to Lupinover the past year contained a special type of alchemy particle mixed inside.
Moen had been guarding against this day long ago. He would not keep such a dangerous creature by his side without taking any safety measures.
"This is the price of a free trial, Professor." Moen looked at the Werewolf, which was rolling on the ground in pain and could no longer attack anyone, and said indifferently:
"As long as I want, I can detonate the magic circuits in your blood at any time, forcing you to switch from 'Berserk Mode' to 'Paralysis Mode'."
The Werewolf lay on the ground, limbs twitching; although it was still roaring, it no longer had the strength to even stand up.
Harry, Hermione, and Ron looked at this scene in horror.
They looked at the fallen Werewolf, then at Moen, who stood in the moonlight with an indifferent expression.
"You…" Hermione said tremblingly, "What did you do to him? Did you poison the potion?"
"That is a safety valve, Miss Granger." Moen adjusted his cuffs, "To prevent my 'user' from harming innocent bystanders due to improper operation."
Just then, a slight rustle came from the grass in the distance.
Peter Pettigrew took advantage of the chaos, transformed into a rat, and burrowed into the grass.
"Damn it! Peter ran away!" Harry shouted.
"He can't run."
Moen did not give chase.
He just glanced at the direction of the escape, which was the direction of the Black Lake.