Chapter 3175 - Ch: 11-18

Chapter 11: The Surviving Uchiha

Strange singing came from a distant chair; it seemed to be from that dirty hat.

"That's a charmed ceiling," Hermione whispered, tugging at Ron's sleeve, her eyes reflecting the brilliant starry sky. "'Hogwarts: A History' states that it reflects the true night sky at this moment, and the medieval Alchemist Linfred—"

"Just a show-off trick," Ron's grumble came from behind, as he deliberately squeezed between the two. "My dad said the magic costs enough in candles to feed ten Weasleyfamilies."

Hermione glared at him angrily, but Ron's gaze was fixed on the southeastern corner of the starry dome—where three crimson stars formed a magatama shape. nightshadein his sleeve trembled slightly, resonating strangely with the stars.

"Quiet!" Professor McGonagall's voice rang out like a silver bell. The first-years lined up in a trembling queue before the four-legged stool, Neville's toad squirming uneasily in his robes.

After Dumbledore announced the first-years'Precautions, the Sorting Ceremony officially began.

"Hannah Abbott!"

The round-faced girl stumbled forward, and the Sorting Hat had barely touched her sweaty blonde hair when it shouted: "Hufflepuff!"

"Terry Boot!"

"Ravenclaw!"

"Mandy Brocklehurst!"

"Ravenclaw!"

...When "Hermione Granger" was called, Ron felt his sleeve clutched tightly. Ron gently patted her back, Hermione took a deep breath and walked forward, but the Sorting Hat pondered on her head for a long time. Amidst the pronouncement of "Gryffindor!", the applause from the red and gold long table lasted for a long time. Hermionesmiled and ran towards the empty seat ahead, but the look she cast back at Ron was full of worry.

"Neville Longbottom!"

During the four minutes of the hat's deliberation, Neville's robe hem was soaked with cold sweat. When the pronouncement of "Gryffindor" rang out, he tripped over himself while running to the long table, and was helped up by the twins, who were laughing. Ron took the opportunity to whisper to Harry: "That oriental guy better not be sorted into our house..."

"Harry Potter!"

The name exploded like thunder, and the Great Hallinstantly fell silent. Thousands of gazes wove an invisible net. As Harry stumbled forward, his scar burned fiercely. He saw Draco Malfoy sneering at the Slytherin table, Ronclenching his fist at the Gryffindor seats, and Hermione's lips silently mouthing "Don't be afraid."

The wood grain of the four-legged stool magnified before his eyes. As the Sorting Hat covered his vision, the smell of old tweed, wrapped in whispers, poured into his ears:

"Difficult...very difficult..." The folds of the hat's brim rubbed against his forehead. "Enough courage, and not a bad mind...Oh! This is—"

Remembering Ron's comment about "Dark Wizardgathering place," Harry gripped the edge of the stool even harder: "Not Slytherin!"

"Not Slytherin?" The hat's voice held a playful tone. "Are you sure? It could help you achieve greatness..."

The scar on his forehead throbbed faintly. Harry's eyes flashed with images of the Dursleys' cupboard, Hagrid's blasted wooden door, the shining wands in Diagon Alley—finally settling on Ron's calm face on the train when he said, "The Hat sees into people's hearts."

"Then..." The hat's brim suddenly unfurled, "Gryffindor!"

The last syllable was drowned in a volcanic eruption of cheers. The red and gold long table erupted with thunderous stomping. Percy Weasley excitedly shouted: "We've got Potter!" Fred and George's fireworks exploded into the shape of a lion in the dome. Harry stumbled towards that melting golden ocean, catching a glimpse of Dumbledore's tearful eyes behind his spectacles as he passed the teachers' table.

As he sank into the seat beside Hermione, his scarred glasses reflected the boiling excitement of the entire Great Hall. Only the Slytherin table remained frozen—Ron's dark eyes met his through the noisy crowd, like a deep pool swallowing all light, his smile offering sincere congratulations.

Professor McGonagall turned to a new page of parchment: "First-years whose names begin with U—"

"Shiro Uchiha!"

"Shiro? The name is exactly the same as Shiro's..." Ronstood quietly in the first-year line, lost in thought.

The English pronunciation awkwardly cut the Japanese name. The black-haired, dark-eyed boy walked steadily forward. Pansy Parkinson covered her mouth with a feather fan and snickered: "Mudbloods even have such tongue-twisting surnames?"

Shiro ignored her. When the Sorting Hat touched his short black hair, he trembled violently, then lowered his head—no one saw the fleeting crimson in the boy's downcast eyes.

"Slytherin!"

Shiro's steps towards the green and silver long table were as precise as the trajectory of a thrown kunai. Malfoyfrowned, watching the arc of his robes as they billowed—it was clearly a duelist's footwork.

"Ran Uchiha!"

As the blue-robed girl passed, ripples spread in Professor Flitwick's cup of mead. The moment the hat covered her long hair, Rin's fingertips formed an incomplete "Wei" seal in her sleeve.

"This gesture is!?" Only Ron noticed this. "Could it be..."

"Slytherin!"

As she passed Ron, her sleeve brushed against his clenched fist. The subtle resonance of Chakra made nightshade in Ron's sleeve tremble like a bird returning to its nest.

"Sen Uchiha!"

The thin boy stepped through the darkest part of the candlelight, and the Sorting Hat shrieked as soon as it touched his hair: "Slytherin!"

The moment Sen and Ron's gazes briefly met, the faint red mark of medical ninjutsu behind his ear flashed and disappeared.

"It must be! I definitely wasn't mistaken!" Ron's hands began to tremble slightly.

"Rin Uchiha!"

The girl strode across the red carpet, the reflected candlelight shattering into stars in her eyes. Amidst the pronouncement of "Slytherin!", the applause gradually grew sparse.

"No mistake, there must be no mistake!" Ron was so eager for his name to be called out loud at this moment. If that were the case... Four pairs of dark eyes met at the Slytherintable, but there was no movement for a long time. They were all waiting for the last first-year whose name began with U, to verify their guesses, hope burning in their eyes. Adrian sneered: "Orientals even eat like they're casting spells..."

"Sakae Uchiha!"

When the name echoed through the Great Hall, Hermione's fork clattered to the floor. As Ron stepped forward, his robes billowed, trailing five intertwining shadows behind him. The moment the Sorting Hatdescended, the bloody wind of the Uchiha clan massacre night rushed at him—the dull thud of his mother falling, Itachi's blade dripping blood like eight-petaled jasmine... "Interesting..." The crack in the hat's brim whispered in his mind, "Such profound darkness...yet burning with such fierce light..."

"I still have important things left undone!" Ron's lowered head finally lifted, his eyes filled with hope. Only this last step remained!

"Oh? Then you also have unparalleled ambition...Ah! Merlin! What in the world is this?" The Sorting Hat was startled by the suddenly activated Chakra.

"Ding—"

Five clear resonances, like ice shards touching jade, matching the sound of jade pendants! The chilling Chakrainstantly diffused, and the Professors sitting behind the Sorting Hat all felt a bone-chilling cold, an inexplicable fear mysteriously welling up in their hearts.

"Merlin's lace knickers!" Professor Sprout knocked over her wine glass. "A collective Obscurus outbreak?!"

"Quiet!" Snape's cold shout froze the commotion, his black robes billowing like a bat spreading its wings. "Unless you all wish to taste Draught of Living Death with your throats."

The Sorting Hat shrieked in the dead silence: "Slytherin!"

The applause was sparse like winter rain. As Ron walked towards the long table, first Pansy's pearl necklace broke, pearls scattering everywhere; then Adrian's plate suddenly began to crack. Snape's face was so dark it could drip water, clearly not expecting to lose so much face on the first day of school.

"Alright, alright! The Sorting must continue, mustn't it? Don't make an old man like me lose sleep at night!" Dumbledore stood up, tapping his wine glass with a dining knife, and smoothly eased the atmosphere.

"Some destinies are older than the castle," Dumbledoresaid as he raised his glass, his half-moon spectacles reflecting five pairs of dark eyes. "Some bonds are deeper than magic."

Professor McGonagall cleared her throat and spoke again: "Then, the Sorting continues! Next are those whose names begin with V—"

The ceremony continued, but Ron stared intently at the four people around him. The few of them tacitly made hand gestures in a secret code: "Itachi"! At the same time, the 'Humanity's Wish' system prompted:

"Unlock progress reached 80%; Unlock favorability visualization. Reward: Randomly open three C-rank Fire Release Ninjutsu."

At this point, Ron was convinced that revenge was only a matter of time.

Chapter 12: Goodbye (Part 1)

"Hufflepuff!"

As the last new student took their seat, Dumbledore stood up, a kindly smile, unique to an elder, gracing his face: "Before we begin the feast, I have a few words to say: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak! Thank you all!"

Dozens of delicacies appeared out of thin air on the tables in front of the young Wizards. Amidst gasps of surprise, everyone quickly forgot the earlier interlude and began to feast. Ron tore at a chicken leg with each hand, his eyes full of happiness.

Harry, marveling at the wondrous phenomenon before him, gasped, then quickly joined the fray with his knife and fork. Even Hermione, who had been slightly downcast about not being in the same house as Rong, found her appetite returning.

A peaceful and joyful atmosphere permeated the Great Hall. The Slytherins, infected by the mood, temporarily set aside the terrifying fact of five Obscuruses among them and began to sate their long-held appetites at their plates.

"Welcome to Hogwarts!" A ghostly head suddenly popped up at the Gryffindor long table, startling the young Wizards, especially Harry and Malfoy, who had been staring intently at Harry.

"What is that thing?" Malfoy quickly smoothed his robes and asked the Prefect next to him.

"That's Sir Nicholas," Prefect Fali, who was further away, replied, her knife and fork working continuously, "but we usually call him Nearly Headless Nick."

Malfoy cast a questioning glance, only to see Fali point her dinner knife in Sir Nicholas's direction. Following the knife, Sir Nicholas's head suddenly detached from his neck, accompanied by gasps of alarm.

"...That's truly disgusting." Malfoy left with a negative comment, then continued to deal with the delicious food in front of him.

However, Rong noticed that there were far fewer ghosts wandering near the Slytherin long table, and none at all near the Uchiha group. Did this mean that the Sharingan, or perhaps Chakra, had some inhibitory effect on free-floating soul entities?

As he pondered the possibilities, Uchiha Shiro patted him on the shoulder, "Eat up, we should have a good chat tonight."

Rong glanced at him and noticed a small row of information appearing above Uchiha Shiro's head from 'Humanity's Wish':

"Uchiha Shiro, your childhood friend, neighbor, and trustworthy clansman. Assessment: Perhaps you could try entrusting your life to him."

"So this is, like, a favorability visualization…" Rong's gaze swept across the crowd, but only a few others displayed similar information.

"Uchiha Qian, your contemporary, trustworthy clanswoman. Assessment: Perhaps a deeper relationship will form in the future."

The other three Uchihas were the same. His gaze moved across the long table, and only Hermione's information was visible:

"Hermione Granger, the daughter of your savior, a neighborhood sister who sees you as her greatest support. Assessment: She trusts you far more than you imagine."

After a brief moment of stunned, Hermione keenly noticed Rong's lingering gaze and raised a sweet smile, waving her small hand at Rong.

"What are you looking at? Hurry and eat, what happens later is very important!" When Rong looked at Uchiha Shiro again, the information above his head had already disappeared.

"He must be looking at that Mudblood!" Everyone else knew to avoid trouble, but only the spoiled Mr. Malfoymaintained his rude demeanor. Rong's eyes turned cold, and the dinner fork in his hand was instantly thrown, piercing through Malfoy's side hair and embedding itself in the wall.

"You can certainly try that next time." Rong only managed to spit out a harsh threat with a hint of anger, as Professor McGonagall was already approaching from a distance.

"No dueling is allowed in the house! Do you want to deduct ten points from your house in advance?!" The aged cat-woman questioned them with the Professor's usual seriousness. But it wasn't Rong who responded to her, but Uchiha Shiro.

"Professor, the Uchiha clan values bonds above all else," Uchiha Shiro preempted Rong before he could speak, "we apologize for Rong's actions just now. But that golden-shaded individual over there has repeatedly insulted Rong's friend; he is the one who should have points deducted!"

Malfoy instantly became displeased: "Hey! Asian guy! I didn't…"

"Enough!" Snape's face was extremely dark. "Are you going to continue to embarrass yourselves?" The young Malfoycould only sit down resentfully, and Rong and Uchiha Shiroalso bowed and sat down.

As the bell signaling the end of the feast echoed through Hogwarts Castle, Hermione sprang up from the Gryffindorlong table like a startled rabbit. She practically scurried through the crowd, clutching the thick Hogwarts: A Historytightly to her chest, like a shield.

"Rong!" she panted, stopping the black-haired boy who was about to follow the Slytherin group out. "Listen to me, the Slytherin common room entrance is in the castleDungeons, the password changes twice a week, and according to Chapter 7, Article 4 of the HogwartsAdministration Regulations, students from different houses are forbidden from entering each other's common rooms—"

She suddenly faltered, pulling out a densely written parchment from the book and thrusting it into Rong's hand. "This is my compiled 'Slytherin Survival Guide,' with key points on Sylvinus Slytherin's life philosophies and common house traps highlighted!"

Rong looked at the Lumos-like colored annotations on the parchment: "When did you write this?"

"Dessert time!" Hermione spoke as fast as if casting a spell. "And this—" She produced a small cloth bag. "Refreshing peppermints. Professor Snape's Dungeons is said to be damp and prone to making one sleepy… Ah!"

The moving staircase suddenly emitted a loud grinding sound of gears, and the Gryffindor and Slytherin groups were forcibly separated by the rotating stone steps. Hermione leaned halfway over the railing and shouted, "Remember not to drink any beverages given by strangers! There was a poisoning case in Slytherin in 1982—"

Her voice was swallowed by the rumbling sound of moving bricks and stones. Rong clutched the warm cloth bag in his hand, and in the last flickering light, he saw Hermionehurrying into the opposite passage.

The damp cold of the Dungeons seeped into his bones. When Prefect Gemma Farley stopped before a stone wall, the carved stone snake coiled on the wall suddenly opened its topaz eyes.

"Pureblood." Fali's voice echoed in the dim corridor. The stone wall split open with a rumble, and emerald-green lights poured out, casting the ripples of the Black Lake in the antechamber onto everyone's faces.

"Welcome to the Serpent's Nest." As Fali turned, the silver-green house crest on her chest gleamed coldly. "The password changes every Monday and Thursday and will be written on the silver foil of the bulletin board half an hour in advance." She tapped her wand lightly, and the ripples on the wall suddenly condensed into text:

[Current Password: Pureblood]

[Tomorrow at 19:00, the Prefect supplementary election will begin: The one who wins 12 consecutive matches will receive the Obsidian Badge]

[Challenge Rules: No wand restrictions, Dark Artsforbidden, interval between matches ≤ 3 minutes]

The crowd stirred. Malfoy pushed to the front: "P-Prefect Fali, what if no one can win twelve consecutive matches?"

"Then we will keep competing until someone wins." Fali's lips curved into a sharp arc. "The badge holder can enter the Head of House's private vault once a week, enjoy a private washroom, and—" Her wand suddenly pointed at the ceiling, and the Black Lake water condensed into the shape of an hourglass, "—an extra two hours of common room curfew exemption every day during exam week."

Gasps of cold air rose and fell. Rong's Sharingan scanned the small print at the bottom of the bulletin board: [Challengers can initiate a challenge for the position at any time during break, with three witnesses required]

"Dismissed now." Fali waved her wand, sending out sparks. "I suggest you all rest up, because tomorrow…" Her gaze swept over the five Uchihas, "…some of you might have to fight all night."

As the crowd dispersed towards the four-poster beds draped with dark green curtains, Cheng suddenly grabbed Rong's arm. Qian's fingers quickly traced a secret message on Rong's palm: 'Don't fall asleep.' Rin pushed Rong towards the window-side bed, while he himself blocked the aisle, his black hair cool-toned in the lake light.

"Chat?" Cheng pulled back the bed curtains. The eerie glow of the lake filtered through the glass window, carving patterns of light and shadow across his face, like some ancient war paint.

Rong gazed at the giant squid swimming in the depths of the Black Lake, its tentacles leaving viscous trails as they brushed against the window. The nightshade in his sleeve hummed with a buzzing tremor, connected to his racing heart. He pulled out the peppermint candy Hermione had given him; the cool, refreshing scent, mixed with the inky smell of parchment, spread across his tongue.

"It is time to talk." Rong folded the candy wrapper into the shape of a kunai. "Seeing you all again… it's truly fortunate."

Cheng grinned, fire flickering in his red eyes, "What do we do now, chief?"

Chapter 13: See You Again (Part 2)

At night, the ripples of Black Lake licked at the glass pane. Five silhouettes swayed on the curtains, and Rong's back was pressed against the cool stone wall: "Tell me what you encountered at the moment you died."

"I was delivering food at the police department," Cheng tore open his shirt, revealing an old diamond-shaped scar on his chest where a kunai had pierced him, "The killer's kunai pinned me to the ninja tool rack."

Qian's bandages were unwound layer by layer, revealing a sunken purplish-black scar on her left rib: "The clan hospital's dispensary. A collapsed medicine cabinet broke my ribs, and my lungs were pierced by glass shards."

Lan's blue robe was pulled down to her waist, a charred spiral wound on her back as hideous as a snake: "The clan academy. Someone burned through my spine with Fire Release."

Rin pushed aside the dark hair by her ear, revealing a hideous penetrating scar on the side of her skull: "I was at the Naka River. My skull was pierced by a shuriken while training." New scars overlapped old ones behind her ear, like broken pottery.

Rong unbuttoned the third button of his shirt. The old scar on his left chest was still stark and hideous: "Itachi's blade spun half a circle here." The moonlight revealed the rage and hatred deep within the scar, "But someone dragged us back from the Pure Land—at the cost of being trapped in this world without Chakra."

"However, I have a way home," Rong's wand tip glowed, outlining the Uchiha clan emblem, "The requirement might be..."

With a timely pause, Rong turned around: "To kill the strongest and most evil Wizard in this world, and to possess the strongest power in the world."

The four exchanged glances, and Uchiha Rin's clear, cold voice broke the stalemate, "We are Uchiha; we can definitely do it!"

"Then, come find me during your free time tomorrow. I will teach you some techniques. At least enough to save your lives." Rong waved his hand and walked into the dormitory he shared with Cheng.

The four looked at each other, surprised by Rong's reserve of ninjutsu, yet also questioning the origin of the ninjutsu. However, no one asked a fellow clan member who was willing to impart power for his private secrets. After a brief farewell, Rin and Lan left the common room, and the remaining two walked into their dormitory.

The next morning, Dumbledore awoke to the scent of lemon sherbet. He contentedly greeted the first rays of dawn from his balcony, only to find several small black dots moving rapidly by the Black Lake.

"Who is that? Are there children who wake up so early?" The old Headmaster, full of anticipation, dressed himself to investigate.

"Oh, Merlin! How can you play with such dangerous things?" Even Dumbledore was startled by the wire, shuriken, and kunai flying in the hands of the Uchiha.

His wand flickered: "Wingardium Leviosa!" The shuriken flying towards Uchiha Shiro suddenly froze, as if time had been paused.

Only Uchiha Rong and Uchiha Shiro's speechlessness was not paused; one thought he was about to win, the other thought he would win by dodging.

With a downward flick of his wand, the shuriken all fell to the ground. Dumbledore's eyes held a joyful display, but his words were full of reproach: "How can young Wizards attack each other with such sharp things? Madam Pomfreyin the Hospital Wing does not approve of such behavior!"

Rong, being most familiar with Dumbledore, could only be reluctantly dragged out to explain: "Professor, we are training. Even if we get injured, it won't trouble... that lady. We have our own physician."

Uchiha Qian's face turned pale with shock: "Rong! This is our trump card, how could you?" Rong waved his hand, indicating it was fine, "Even if I don't say it now, he will definitely know later." He then turned to Dumbledore, giving him a friendly smile.

"It seems you have your secrets." Dumbledore was still as kindly as ever, "But gentlemen and ladies, I still believe that using these sharp little toys will have adverse effects." With a flick of his wand, the shuriken on the ground formed into small snakes and flew towards the Headmaster's office. "So, I've confiscated them;-) " Without waiting for a rebuttal, Dumbledore vanished.

The silent Uchiha Lan stepped forward, looking at Rong with a deep gaze, "Similar to space-time ninjutsu." Under the four confused gazes, Rong explained the meaning of space-time. "This is why I told him about Qian's specialty. Exchanging information about a not-so-lethal trump card for the affinity of a supreme expert is not a losing deal."

"What about the ninja tools?" The most honest Uchiha Rinspoke up, still holding a piece of bread in her hand, apparently taken last night.

Rong's profound expression almost broke, "I'll... I'll make more, I can make them..." Although he had four admiring gazes, only he knew that those raw materials were earned bit by bit from working for Hermione and Grandma Martha!

Rong: Wanting to cry but having no tears, a little heartbroken, secretly crying emo at night... —Two hours later—

Professor Snape entered the Potions Class with a dark face, clearly in a bad mood. "I trust everyone present knows that this class is the first to get to know your Head of House, so I hope to take this opportunity to make you remember, to remember profoundly, my rules." Professor Snape suddenly swept his gaze over every first-year Slytherin present, his gaze not only scrutinizing but also warning. "First, glory is life! We have won the House Cup for several consecutive terms, and I hope you do not do foolish things like... things a Troll would do with a Troll-like brain! This will result in more or less point deductions!"

"Second, Slytherin possesses ambition, but ambition needs strength to support it! When your strength is insufficient, you had best put away your pure-blood arrogance!" This time, Professor Snape stared directly at young Draco, not relenting until the golden-haired boy broke out in a cold sweat.

"Third, never let me know that you are bullying your classmates!" A hint of gloom flashed across Professor Snape's face, but no one noticed because his complexion was too dark. However, he suddenly changed the subject, "Except for those foolish and reckless lions!"

Finally, Professor Snape stepped onto the podium, opened "Magical Drafts and Potions," and said, "This afternoon will be your first class with Gryffindor. I will use the morning to preview the afternoon's content with you." For some reason, he suddenly looked deeply in the direction of the Uchiha. "I hope you do not disappoint me, or even disgrace me!"

...After an hour and a half of study, Rong's first experience of lunch at Hogwarts finally began.

"See? Those Obscurus are right here!"

"This is too dangerous, isn't it said that Obscurus die before the age of 11? Will they suddenly explode and hurt us?"

"I will definitely write to my family!"

"Me too!"

The whispers around them were no different from loud shouts right next to Rong's ear; Uchiha Qian and Uchiha Rin, who were closer, heard everything clearly.

"...It would be great if I could just beat them up." Uchiha Shiro said to Rong while tearing at a leg of lamb, his Chakra-infused hands not getting any grease on them, but it was clear that this Chakra was not just for use as gloves—the lamb bones were snapped.

Uchiha Rin and Uchiha Lan, the two girls, were initially unmoved, but Pansy next to them became even more aggressive: "I bet those Obscurus will go crazy and hurt people! My necklace broke yesterday!" She made no mention of her own gossiping below.

"If you think we're harmful, then get lost, lest you injure your delicate bodies." Although Uchiha Qian studied medical ninjutsu, her venomous tongue was anything but gentle.

Pansy immediately flared up upon hearing this: "What did you say? How dare you speak to me like that! Do you know who I am?"

Uchiha Qian was about to stand up and teach her a lesson with taijutsu, but Rong held her down with one hand. "It's not suitable to actively make enemies, follow me." With that, he picked up his plate and walked towards Gryffindorfirst. The four did not hesitate and quickly followed.

Hermione had been observing the situation at the Slytherin table. Seeing Rong stand up, she immediately spoke: "Mr. Weasley, please make some room over there."

Harry didn't mind; there were many empty seats, so giving up one or two was fine. But Ron's dissatisfaction was practically written on his face. He put down the chicken leg in his hand and grumbled as he made room, "So concerned about those Slytherin, why didn't you just join them back then?..."

At the same time, Professor Snape's already gloomy face worsened upon seeing these five "traitors," and Dumbledore next to him was still fanning the flames: "Look, Minerva, Gryffindor might soon have a few clever little snakes ⌓‿⌓"

Rong had just sat on the bench and greeted Hermionewhen a sinister shadow fell over his head, "Mr. Uchiha, could you please explain why you are dining here?"

Ron next to him was already pale with fright, but Rong showed a slight smile: "Head of House, our surname is Uchiha (wu chi ha), not Uchiha. As for why we are sitting here, I think you should also prefer to accept your own place."

The Weasley twins were almost about to applaud on the spot.

Chapter 14: First Experience of Teaching

Snape's face stiffened, as if he remembered something unpleasant, and he suddenly looked deeply at the Slytherin long table. He then lowered his head again, looking at Hermione and Rong sitting side by side, and the thousand-year-old ice mountain on his face finally trembled.

The words he had prepared were stuck in his throat, unable to be uttered. Finally, he waved his sleeve in annoyance: "I hope you can speak like that tonight!" Then he left the Great Hall under the surprised or amused gazes of the other Professors.

Little Hermione tilted her fluffy head: "Rong, what does he mean by 'tonight'? Will Slytherin have activities tonight?"

Rong unceremoniously placed his hand on her head: "It's nothing, just a little game to promote friendship. Hurry and eat before you lose energy for class. This afternoon is Slytherin and Gryffindor's first combined class!"

Hermione swatted his hand away as usual, her eyes lighting up: "Did you know? Potions Class is taught by Professor Snape, and he's a top Potion Master! I remember he even Improved many Potions..." Sure enough, the power of knowledge was what could divert Miss Chipmunk's attention.

——

Noon, Slytherin common room.

Draco was following behind Marcus, continuously asking about Quidditch-related matters, including how to make it onto the team exceptionally.

Marcus, not bothering to hide his impatience, gave him what he considered a dismissal: "Our team's brooms need to be updated. You can join the team when there isn't a single broom that isn't the latest Firebolt." He then sized up Mr. Malfoy's not-so-tall stature, "It's still debatable whether you even have flying talent."

Draco looked as if he had heard the greatest insult besides being called inferior to Scarhead, his face flushing: "I already flew two laps at home! I..."

Fali, holding a book, unhappily stopped the little Malfoy: "Enough! If you don't want to spend tonight with Black Lake, Draco, you'd best shut your mouth and give this place some rare quiet!"

The silence lasted for about three minutes before Pansybroke it: "Who knows where those Obscurus went?"

——

At the same time, by Black Lake.

Uchiha Qian was performing healing magic on Uchiha Lan's scrapes, while Rong was tinkering with ninja tools nearby.

"...A scroll of Exploding Tag recipe is three small bottles of dittany essence and a gallon of Acromantula venom? Can this even be mixed?" While complaining that the mysterious recipes in "The 5·3 Workbook" were almost like Cthulhu cuisine, Rong's hands didn't stop whittling pine branches—at least until Dumbledore thought they had "grown up," they would have to use these for training.

"Rong, it's time for class." Uchiha Shiro indicated that the time was approaching.

"Mhm, call the others, let's go."

The Body Flicker Technique was instantly activated, and Rong's figure flashed past, not only startling the people nearby but also intimidating the couples dating by Black Lake, which was part of his game. "Did someone just pass by...? Then us??"

Cheng recovered his jaw, which had dropped in surprise, and helplessly ran to catch up. This guy, where did he get so many powerful techniques...? "Do you think the Head of House will really teach the class we previewed this morning?"

"Stop talking nonsense! How could the Head of Housewaste time on useless things?"

Although it wasn't time for class yet, students were already scattered in the dungeon classroom, finding good spots to sit. Hermione, as a studious child, had already secured a seat in the front row early on.

"This Body Flicker Technique is really... too useful!" Rong swore it was the first time he felt excited because of his speed. "High-speed movement is not spatial magic; Hogwarts spatial magic is directly defeated!" He came back to his senses to find himself standing at the classroom entrance, everyone staring in shock at this Obscurus who had suddenly "flashed" in, except for Hermione.

"How did you do that? My dad told me that Apparition isn't allowed at Hogwarts, is it?"

"Apparition? What's that?" "..."

"Rong! Come sit here!" Hermione's eyes were filled with curiosity, selectively forgetting the rule that Gryffindors and Slytherins should be mortal enemies.

Draco watched Rong slowly walk towards Hermione, his lips curling into a sneer as he began his declaration for the day: "A Slytherin actually staying with a stupid lion... Just wait until I..." Fortunately, the classroom was noisy, otherwise, little Malfoy would probably have another grudge against Rong.

As soon as Rong sat down, Hermione blinked and leaned in to ask: "Rong! How did you get here just now? Was that some kind of magic? Or—" Harry and Ron also came over, coincidentally interrupting Hermione's question.

Hermione was displeased.jpg

"Good afternoon, Hermione... Why do your eyes look so... gloomy?" Ron was completely oblivious to the problem, but his politeness didn't give Hermione a chance to find fault.

Rong briefly hid behind Harry's shadow as if clutching a lifesaver, "I really can't handle a barrage of questions. (whispering)"

As more and more people arrived, the Uchiha members also entered the classroom one after another. Fortunately, everyone disliked the Obscurus, so there were plenty of empty seats around Rong, meaning he didn't have to worry about not having a place to sit.

"Hmph, a bunch of arrogant people." Hermione, uncharacteristically, spoke up in his defense, earning a pat on the head. "Those Slytherins' noses are almost higher than the Professor's." She swatted Rong's hand away, continuing to express her indignation, which made Rong feel incredibly relieved—he should have told his mother to have a younger sister sooner!

"Creak—" The heavy, old door was pushed open, and Snape, moving with steps that seemed to barely touch the ground, swiftly ascended the podium and picked up the roll call list.

"Oh, here we have our new, famous Savior, Mr. Harry Potter." Snape deliberately paused on Harry's name, and Draco, Crabbe, and Goyle covered their mouths, snickering.

"And Uchiha Rong, Cheng, Qian, Lan, and Rin." His gaze drifted to Rong, "Is that correct this time, Mr. Uchiha?"

"Thank you for your attention, Professor." Rong was not one to be ambiguous; he stood up and gave a standard bow. Clearly, Snape hadn't expected the child to be so thick-skinned.

"...Respect for teachers, two points to Slytherin." Snape, expressionless as he awarded points, averted his gaze.

After calling the roll, Snape looked up at the entire class. His eyes were cold and hollow, like a long, deep tunnel.

"You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of Potion-making," he said. His voice was barely louder than a whisper, yet every word was heard clearly by everyone.

"As there is little foolish wand-waving here, many of you will hardly believe this is magic. I don't expect you will truly understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses... I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even stopper death—if you aren't as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach."

"Potter!" Snape suddenly said, "What would I get if I added powdered asphodel root to an infusion of wormwood?"

What kind of root powder added to what solution? Harryglanced at Ron, who indicated he couldn't help him; he glanced at Rong, who indicated he was powerless to assist. Only Hermione's arm was raised high in the air.

"I don't know, sir," Harry said honestly.

Snape gave a contemptuous sneer.

"Tsk, tsk—it seems fame doesn't mean everything."

He deliberately ignored Hermione's raised arm.

"Just forget it, he won't call on you, you can put it down now." Hermione glared at Rong, and at that moment, Rong suddenly felt that his mother not having a younger sister was a huge and successful decision.

"Let us try again. Potter, if I asked you to find me a bezoar, where would you look?"

Hermione raised her hand as high as she could without leaving her seat, but Harry had no idea what a bezoar was. He tried not to look at Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle, who were laughing like the one squeezing giraffe milk in the Skittles commercial.

"I don't know, sir."

"I imagine you haven't opened a single book before term started, have you, Potter?"

Harry forced himself to stare into Snape's cold eyes without backing down. But who could memorize an entire book in the brief month before term started?

Guess what, Hermione did.

Snape still ignored Hermione's trembling arm.

"Just forget it, don't push yourself, he'll call on you when it's your turn." Cheng and Qian, in the back row, were almost laughing out loud as they listened to Rong's advice.

Snape glanced up, deciding to finish his questions first.

"Potter, what is the difference between monkshood and wolfsbane?"

At this, Hermione stood up, her hand reaching straight for the ceiling of the dungeon classroom.

"I don't know," Harry whispered, "but I think Hermioneknows the answer, why don't you ask her?"

Qian finally couldn't help but laugh out loud.

Snape merely gave Qian a brief glance that felt like falling into an ice pit, but the next second he uttered even colder words—at least, that's how Hermione felt.

"Potter! Why aren't you stopping your classmate from disrupting the class? Do you think you're superior? One point from Gryffindor!"

Harry:???

Chapter 15: Authority and Knowledge at the Dean Level

Snape's venom permeated the classroom: "Potter! Why don't you stop your classmates from disturbing the class? Do you think you're above everyone else? Gryffindor, one point deducted!"

The blue flame at the bottom of the cauldron flickered restlessly, making Snape's face look like a gargoyle freshly dug out of a tomb. Harry froze in his seat, mouth agape, looking as if he'd been stuffed with a pixy egg.

Ron's ears were red as fire, and his fists were clenched tightly under the table. Hermione, on the other hand, gasped sharply, her chest rising and falling violently. Roncould even feel the angry tremor from her tense arm—her brown eyes, usually filled with the light of curiosity, were now fixed on the black-robed figure pacing at the front of the class.

"Tsk, here we go again," Ron muttered in a whisper only they could hear, gently poking Hermione's taut arm under the table. "Miss Chipmunk, your cheeks are about to burst."

Hermione whipped her head around, her curly hair almost brushing Ron's face, her hushed roar sparking with anger: "This isn't fair! Harry didn't do anything! How can he—"

"He can," Ron cut her off, his chin gesturing towards Snape, his tone as light as if discussing the weather. "Because he is the Head of House, and apparently," he paused, watching Snape's sinister gaze sweep towards the back row like a searchlight, "the unlucky spectator is about to take the stage."

Snape's gaze, like an ice-cold knife, precisely pinned Uchiha Qian—the source of that short, sharp laugh.

"Mr. Uchiha Qian," Snape's voice dragged out long and slow, laced with slimy malice, as he floated like an ominous dark cloud to Qian's desk, his bony fingers slamming down on her open notebook.

"It seems Mr. Longbottom's toad failed to climb onto your desk, instead making your sense of humor unusually active? Or..." The shadow of his black robe fell over her, "...is it this unique doodle of yours that provided enough entertainment?"

Qian's hands under the table instantly clenched, her knuckles turning white. The eyes of Lan, who sat next to her, turned cold, and the bodies of Cheng and Lin also leaned slightly forward, an invisible string tightening in the air.

Ron still leaned back in his chair, only Hermione noticed his hand resting on his knee, the faint, crackling micro-spark of what seemed like electricity flashing across his fingertips.

Snape looked down, his hooked nose almost touching the parchment. Qian's notes were entirely different from everyone else's. There were no neat English formulas, no copied steps. The paper was covered with strange symbols, fluid lines, and dense equations.

These were complex molecular formulas and reaction pathway derivations far beyond a first-year's level, with extremely neat small English annotations next to them, such as "estimated nerve conduction inhibition rate" and "molecular bond energy conflict possibility between mugwort infusion and moonstone powder."

Next to the Draught of Living Death recipe, there was even a multi-step magic (or rather, energy) flow model sketched in red pen, precisely marking the theoretical peak efficacy and decay curve. In the eyes of a Potion Master, this looked less like notes and more like a condensed, sharp-edged research proposal.

Snape's pupils contracted sharply. A fleeting, extremely complex look of astonishment, mixed with disbelief and offended indignation, crossed his pale face, but deeper still was an almost instinctive, keen scrutiny of disruptive thinking.

His silence was suffocatingly long, his fingertips unconsciously tracing a complex formula on the page representing an energy node conflict.

"Explain," he finally spoke, his voice even deeper and hoarser than before, like sandpaper rubbing, "These... speculations beyond your age's comprehension... What are they?"

Qian looked up, her black eyes calm and unruffled, speaking in clear English with a distinct non-native accent: "Theoretical derivation, Professor. Prediction of medicinal pathways based on ingredient properties. Efficiency model of magic energy transmission." She deliberately avoided any terms that might be associated with Chakra, choosing the concept of "energy" which the magic world could also understand.

"Prediction? Model?" Snape's lips curled into an extremely sarcastic arc, his voice suddenly rising like a whip cracking through the silent classroom. "Mr. Uchiha, first-year Potions Class at Hogwarts teaches precise weighing, rigorous steps, and respect for authoritative recipes!

It's not for you to build castles in the air on parchment like some reckless Alchemy madman!" He abruptly snatched the notebook, the paper groaning under his bony fingers.

"Mr. Potter of Gryffindor, because of his celebrity status and lack of control over his companions..." His icy gaze swept over Ron's flushed face and Hermione, who was trembling with anger, "...paid the price of a point deduction. And you, Mr. Uchiha..." He shook the notebook in his hand, as if displaying evidence of a crime, "waste class time with such attention-seeking scrap paper, challenging the fundamentals of teaching. Slytherin..."

"Professor!" Hermione suddenly stood up, her chair legs scraping harshly on the floor. Her cheeks were flushed crimson with excitement and anger, like ripe apples, and her curly hair seemed even fluffier. "Mr. Uchiha Qian is just trying to understand deeply! He—he might be a bit ahead of his time in his methods, but this is absolutely not scrap paper! This requires extremely high logic and Potiontalent!"

She practically shouted, her words a rapid-fire barrage, her pent-up grievances and academic pride making her reckless. "And! And the question you asked Harry earlier! Powdered asphodel root added to an infusion of wormwood makes a powerful sleeping Potion, the Draught of Living Death! Bezoar is found in the stomach of a goat! Aconite and wolfsbane are the same plant!

These are all written in the book! Why don't you listen to the correct answers, instead of punishing those who think hard?"

The entire class was dead silent.

Even Draco's sneer froze on his face.

Harry and Ron were completely petrified, as if they expected Hermione to be hit by Avada Kedavra any second.

Hermione herself froze after shouting, her chest heaving violently, but her gaze remained stubborn.

Snape turned around extremely slowly, his black robe silently spreading like a bat's wings. His unfathomable black eyes locked onto Hermione, the chill within them seeming to dim the flames under the cauldrons.

"Miss Granger," his voice was terrifyingly soft, yet it caused the temperature in the classroom to plummet, "Did I give you the mistaken impression that this classroom requires a second or third voice to guide the teaching?"

He tilted his head slightly, his venomous gaze sweeping over Qian, then returning to Hermione. "Or perhaps, you believe your understanding of Potion has surpassed that of your Professor, and this genius theoretician? And that you have the right to arbitrarily criticize teaching methods?"

Hermione's lips trembled, her head held stubbornly high, but Ron could see her hands at her sides shaking slightly. He sighed, finally leaning away from the chair back.

"Professor," Ron's voice was not loud, but it clearly cut through the stagnant air, carrying a peculiar, compelling calmness, "Miss Granger means that curiosity itself is not wrong. As for Qian's notes..."

He paused, his black eyes fixed on Snape, "If it's scrap paper, why were you staring at it for a full two minutes just now? Were you admiring the texture of the paper?"

Pfft—some Gryffindor student couldn't hold it in.

Snape's face instantly turned as black as a cauldron. He whirled towards Ron, genuine fury churning in his eyes. The entire classroom was so quiet you could hear a pin drop, even the gurgling bubbles in the cauldrons ceased.

Everyone anticipated an impending storm, the Slytherins even harboring a secret anticipation.

"You!" Snape's roar exploded like thunder, making the glass vials on the shelves hum. "Why! Aren't you! Writing all of this! Down!"

He dramatically waved his bony arm, his wand pointing at the blackboard, and chalk, as if whipped by an invisible lash, flew madly across the blackboard, leaving behind large, scrawled, complex Potion recipes and theoretical points, at a dizzying speed.

"The functional relationship between the neural paralysis threshold of the Draught of Living Death and the concentration of mugwort infusion!"

"The change in the crystal lattice structure of moonstone powder under magic catalysis!"

"Seventeen possible enhancements and failure risks beyond the basic recipe—eight of which lead to irreversible brain damage!"

The chalk screeched against the blackboard, powder falling down. Snape's speech was a rapid-fire barrage, every word laden with icy fury and suffocating erudition. He no longer looked at Qian's notes, but instead, with an almost harshtheoretical bombardment, mercilessly crushed and twistedly responded to Qian's "advanced derivations."

"Now! Immediately! Engrave every single letter on the blackboard into your empty heads!" he roared, his wand striking the podium heavily, making a crystal vial jump.

"If I find a single symbol missing from the notes handed in before class ends, or if the understanding shows the same pathetic deviation as Miss Granger's..."

His icy gaze swept over Hermione's pale face, then rested on Qian's tightly pressed lips, "I don't mind letting you personally experience the unforgettable soporific effects of an incorrect Draught of Living Death recipe!"

The golden glow of the feast and the aroma of food couldn't dispel the low pressure hanging over Hermione's head.

She glumly poked her Yorkshire pudding with her fork, imagining it to be the head of a certain black-robed bat-like creature. The Gryffindor long table was lively, celebrating the start of the new term, but Hermione only found it noisy.

An elbow gently nudged her. Hermione irritably turned her head, meeting Ron's black eyes, which held a hint of helpless amusement.

"Still angry, Professor Granger?" Ron poked her mangled pudding. "Keep poking it, and the little Unicorn will cry."

"How dare he!" Hermione hissed, poking Ron's robe sleeve fiercely with her finger as if it were Snape's face. "Harrydidn't do anything! Qian's notes were so, so brilliant!

He's completely abusing his power! And you!" She glared at Ron. "Why did you provoke him at the end? Now we all have to copy things we don't even understand!"

"Brilliant?" Ron raised an eyebrow, casually forking a perfect piece of pudding from Hermione's plate, ignoring her protesting gaze. "Those notes, in Snape's eyes, are about as graceful as a Troll doing ballet—completely off the rails."

He took a bite of pudding, mumbling, "As for provoking him—if you don't pour some oil on the fire, how will you get the old bat to pull out his hidden treasures?"

He pointed to the densely written parchment in front of him—on it, Qian, with his ninja memory and Ron's additions, had almost perfectly replicated Snape's furious theoretical bombardment. "See, high-grade stuff. You wouldn't find this in the library in a week."

Hermione leaned closer to look; the complex formulas and theories were indeed unheard of, and her eyes brightened for a moment, but were quickly replaced by anger: "Even so! Harry was so wronged!"

"Relax," Ron shrugged indifferently, forking another roasted potato from her plate. "It's just one point deducted; the great Granger will earn it back with her knowledge soon enough. But there's one thing," he stopped chewing, taking on a rare seriousness as he looked at Hermione, "next time, don't be so reckless. If the old bat really forces you to drink Draught of Living Death, I won't make the antidote."

Hermione felt a bit uncomfortable under his gaze, huffed, and turned her face away, but didn't poke his robe again. After a while, she mumbled, "What about Qian's notes then? They were confiscated."

Ron looked at the "star" not far away. Qian was silently eating, her expression calm, as if the afternoon's commotion had never happened. Cheng and Lin occasionally conversed in low voices, while Lan sipped her soup elegantly. Only those familiar with them could sense the silent understanding and tension flowing between them.

"Just a piece of paper," Ron withdrew his gaze, his tone light, yet there was no smile in his eyes. "If we want it, we can get it back anytime. But for now..."

He tapped the brand new Advanced Potion-Making textbook in front of Hermione, a sly smile on his face. "Miss Chipmunk, are you interested in teaming up to decipher the old bat's cryptic writings? I'll provide the theoretical framework, and you research to complete it?"

Hermione looked at the enticing, profound knowledge on the parchment, then at Ron's challenging gaze. Her academic spirit ultimately overcame her anger. She snatched her textbook and Ron's notes, chin raised: "Hmph! Just don't hold me back!"

Ron watched Hermione instantly immerse herself, her curly hair gently swaying as she rapidly flipped through the pages, a genuine smile curving his lips. He picked up his pumpkin juice, his gaze seemingly casually sweeping over the teachers' table.

Snape was hunched over, cutting his food, his movements stiff, as if the plate held not steak but the flesh of an enemy. Next to the goblet in front of him, a familiar notebook lay silently.

Snape's knife and fork paused for a moment. His bony finger traced a barely perceptible nail mark on the elaborate napkin.

Ron lowered his eyelids, taking a sip of the sickly sweet pumpkin juice.

The game had just begun.

Chapter 16 The Sweetness of Mint Candy

As the golden glow of the banquet flowed over the charred crust of the Yorkshire pudding, two red-haired figures crashed like cannonballs into the empty seats between Hermione and Uchiha Rong. Fred's elbow narrowly grazed Hermione's pumpkin juice goblet, and the amber liquid sloshed precariously at the rim.

"Ron told us everything!" he boomed, his voice so loud that the Ravenclaw long table frequently turned to look. "Standing up to the old bat in class? That's awesome!"

George twirled his wand, and three Galleons floated in the air, forming a spinning betting wheel: "Place your bets! On how many rounds our new Eastern friend—" his wand tip suddenly pointed at Uchiha Rong, "—can last in the Slytherin arena?"

Hermione's silver fork stabbed fiercely into her pudding, the sound of the caramel crust shattering lost in the din. Her reserved fifteen minutes of "academic time"—which she had planned to discuss the Draught of Living Deathmolecular formula with Uchiha Rong—was completely crushed by the Weasley-brand noise.

"First odds: knocked out by Malfoy within three matches!" Fred's Galleon clinked onto the edge of Uchiha Rong's dinner plate, rolling half a circle before stopping.

"Second odds: taking down six purebloods!" George's coin stacked on top.

"Highest odds—" The twins raised their wands in unison, fireworks exploding into a dazzling light screen: [Clear the Assistant Prefect Challenge 1:15!]

Laughter erupted from the Ravenclaw direction. Hermioneslammed shut her Advanced Potion-Making: "You can't use him as a bet! This is an insult!"

"You're wrong, Miss Granger," Fred chuckled, pushing her Potion book aside. "This is the highest form of tribute!" He suddenly leaned in close to Uchiha Rong,

"George and I bet—you and those other Uchiha are definitely from the same nest! You all have fierce glares in your eyes when you look at people!"

Uchiha Rong unhurriedly cut his roast beef, the sauce seeping into the texture: "Where do I place a bet on me winning?"

Hermione gasped. When George conjured a parchment betting slip and slapped it in front of Uchiha Rong, she grabbed her bag and stormed out, her curly hair whipping past Uchiha Rong's cheek: "Enjoy yourself and your winnings!"

...The dampness of the Dungeons seeped into their bones. The ripples of the Black Lake, at Prefect Fali's light tap of her wand, condensed into an emerald arena, its shimmering water reflecting the pale faces of the Slytherins. Uchiha Shiro stuffed a bulging cloth bag into Uchiha Rong's hand.

"From Hermione," Uchiha Shiro gestured towards the door. "She was as angry as a ruffled cat, but she still stuffed the candy in quickly."

Uchiha Rong bit through the candy coating. A cool sweetness mixed with the ink scent of parchment exploded on his tongue, overriding the metallic taste in his throat. Below the arena, Malfoy was slowly wiping his hawthorn wand with a silk handkerchief, and Pansy's shrill laughter was piercing.

"First match!" Fali's voice cut through the clamor. "Draco Malfoy versus Uchiha Rong!"

The blond boy's wand had barely reached his eyebrow when Uchiha Rong's robe hem moved without a breeze.

"Fire Release: Phoenix Flower Jutsu."

Five intensely rose-like flames shot from his fingertips, flying in a strange arc and knocking the wand away. Malfoystumbled backward, his dragonhide boot heel stepping into the cold ashes of a fireplace.

"Cowardly!" Pansy shrieked, her voice cracking.

Uchiha Rong flicked his sleeve, as if brushing away non-existent dust: "Didn't say I couldn't use it."

Malfoy's face was paler than a snake house silver-green tie... "Fifth match! Silent spells are forbidden!" Uchiha Rong, who could use ninjutsu, was truly overpowered. Before Fali's announcement of the new rule had finished, Adrian Pucey's Stupefy had already torn through the air, heading straight for Uchiha Rong's face.

Crimson light swirled rapidly in Uchiha Rong's eyes. Pucey's wand-waving hand suddenly froze, his wand turning, and ropes like venomous snakes coiled around his own legs.

"Merlin! My hand—" He writhed in vain within the magical ropes.

Rin folded her arms and sneered: "Be decent, Pucey, are you tying up a Troll?"

...Unsurprisingly, unknown genjutsu was also forbidden—they thought it was a type of silent spell. Taijutsu is enough! Uchiha Rong shouted childishly in his heart, but his outward appearance remained calm and composed.

"Eleventh match! Physical contact is forbidden!" The moment Betty Braithwaite's Leg-Locker Curse missed, Uchiha Rong had already stepped onto the smooth stone wall and flipped behind her. His opponent's dark green silk tie suddenly shot up like a living snake, coiling around her silver-lime wand and pinning it into a crack in the ceiling.

"Nice tie," Uchiha Rong caught the falling wand and tossed it back to her, "It matches your eyes."

In the teachers' seats, Snape's gaze grew even more unfathomable... When Uchiha Rong's dragonhide boot touched the cold arena for the twelfth time, an obsidian badge fell into his palm. He pushed back his sweat-dampened hair and looked towards the entrance—

Hermione was curled in the shadow of a stone snake statue, a massive History of Magic tome clutched to her chest like a shield. With a taut face, she slapped a newly wrapped bag of candy into Uchiha Rong's ash-stained hand, her fingertips accidentally brushing the burn on his tiger's mouth.

"The Weasley betting pool exploded," she said stiffly, "George lost three months' allowance." Her gaze, however, lingered on his bleeding cuff. "When you fought Pucey... your wand didn't move at all?" She didn't doubt that the powerful Uchiha Rong could be injured.

Looking at the moonlight, "Curfew is almost here, so I'll head back first."

A Grindylow from the depths of the Black Lake bumped against the glass, creating an eerie blue ripple. Uchiha Rong placed the badge in her palm: "This is the storage fee for the peppermints~"

Hermione froze as if she had caught a hot iron. Fali's voice cut through the clamor: "Assistant Prefect authority activated! Curfew exemption passage open!"

...Moonlight spilled onto the kunai blade on the suspended lake terrace. The apple peel Rin had pared off hung like a snake's shed skin, and Xian was applying ointment to Uchiha Rong's shoulder blade, a deep purple bruise looking ghastly in the cold light.

"Twelve consecutive matches." Xian's cotton swab pressed on his fractured pinky finger. "Chakra reserves dropped below twenty percent."

Cheng unrolled a parchment scroll; blood-red characters appeared next to the silver-green badge: [If the challenge for the position is not answered within three days, the badge becomes invalid]. Lan's fingertip traced the small print at the end: "Seven people have registered, and Malfoybrought two seventh-year witnesses."

Rin's kunai stabbed into the stone table: "Do they have no shame?"

"Slytherin only recognizes winning and losing." Uchiha Rong swallowed a soldier pill, bitterness spreading on his tongue. "Tomorrow night at seven, let them line up."

A swarm of glowing jellyfish passed over the glass floor, making the Chakra pathway diagram look eerie. Xian suddenly said: "In Snape's drawer... my notebook."

"Second layer, third compartment from the right." Uchiha Rong's Sharingan subtly spun in the dark.

Lan's wand outlined the castle's light and shadow: "Filch's patrol interval is twenty-three minutes."

"Get it back tomorrow night." As Cheng made the decision, there was a gentle knock on the terrace's wooden door.

Hermione, clutching her brick-like History of Magic, slipped in: "Professor McGonagall asked me to deliver the exemption form..." Her words abruptly stopped—her gaze was fixed on Uchiha Rong's shoulder. Xian quickly covered the bleeding jasmine-patterned ointment patch with a bandage.

"Thanks." Uchiha Rong took the form. Hermione, however, suddenly reached out, her fingertips hovering at the edge of the blood-stained bandage.

"Your injury..."

"I fell." Uchiha Rong cut her off. "The arena flagstones are uneven, but there aren't any pebbles ୧ ⍢ ⃝ ୨"

Hermione pursed her lips. The bag of peppermints was pressed firmly against the jasmine-patterned spot, and she threw out a sentence before turning and running into the corridor: "Candy helps with pain."

After the door closed, Rin sneered, pulling out her kunai: "That little girl is very clever."

Uchiha Rong peeled open the candy wrapper. The sweetness mixed with the fishy smell of the lake, and the old scar under the ointment felt faintly hot—the night of the clan massacre, the jasmine pinned to his mother's lapel also carried the same metallic scent... The midnight bells echoed through the tower. Uchiha Rong stood in the shadow of the spiral staircase, Night Feather alighting on his shoulder, wings folded. The brass snake knocker's pupils rotated in the Lumos, and with the soft click of the bolt, the raven suddenly pecked anxiously at his earlobe—a fresh surge of spell power emanated from the second drawer.

Uchiha Rong crushed the test paper in his sleeve. Parchment ashes scattered, and the paper's edge curled with char marks: Lightning attribute riot. Snape had added a lightning spell trap.

He retreated to the third step, his wand tracing an arc: "Fire Release: Ash Pile Burning." He had to admit, having a ninjutsu encyclopedia was really convenient.

Smoke swallowed the moonlight. As Filch's oil lamp swung through the corridor, only the sound of turning pages remained in the office. In the third drawer, the notebook lay quietly, and next to the formula for conflicting magical nodes on the cover, there was a sharp nail mark—pressed right on a Chakra point notation... Hermionelingered in front of the Fat Lady's portrait until dawn. When Uchiha Rong's figure appeared at the end of the corridor, she rushed towards him like a cannonball: "The fog in the Dungeons, was it you...?"

Uchiha Rong placed the bag of candy in her outstretched palm. Inside the bag lay the recovered notebook, its cover imbued with the chill of the Black Lake.

"Pain-relieving candy," he said, a smile appearing in his tired eyes. "It worked well."

As morning light pierced the windowpanes, Hermionefinally felt a sticky note in the interlayer of the candy bag. In childish handwriting, it copied page 57 of Magical Drafts and Potions: [Draught of Living Death Improvement: Replacing pearl dust with moonstone powder can reduce the risk of nerve damage – requires guardian presence]

The edge of the candy bag was smudged with a reddish-brown bloodstain, so much like the melted strawberry jam on the birthday cake that couldn't be delivered in the snow three years ago.

Chapter 17 Challenge

"Honestly, always making me worry…" Hermionegrumbled, but the upward curve of her eyebrows betrayed her inner delight. She walked briskly into the Great Hall, heading straight for Harry and Ron. "Good morning, Harry, good morning, Ron~"

"You look very happy. Did something happen?" Harrygnawed on his baguette; its hard crust made his teeth ache, and he decided he would definitely surrender to soft Yorkshire puddings next time.

"It must be that Slytherin Obscurus," Ron said, tearing at a cold chicken leg he had carefully hidden in greaseproof paper last night, his cheeks puffed out like a squirrel hoarding nuts. "Miss Know-It-All only gets like this when she thinks of him or when she's in class. Her eyes are so bright they could be used for Lumos."

"Hey! His name is Uchiha Rong, not some Obscurus!" Hermione immediately retorted, her cheeks slightly puffed out like a ruffled cat whose tail had been stepped on. But the key point wasn't Ron's annoying "Know-It-All," but rather the malicious label.

She subconsciously touched the notebook in her satchel's hidden pocket, which smelled faintly of peppermint candy, and then remembered the dried reddish-brown stain on the edge of the candy bag Rong had given back last night. A thin mist clouded her joyful mood.

But soon, that worry was dispelled by a stronger anticipation—the final day of the Prefect challenge was tonight! Rong had promised it would be "quick."

The day's lessons quickly passed… Lavender Brown, facing the mirror, tucked a curl behind a pearl hairpin, chattering incessantly: "Parvati says pink suits me better, but I think the gold of this new hairpin clearly complements my skin tone more, don't you, Hermione? Hermione?"

Hermione snapped back to reality, the bag of peppermint candies in her hand rustling faintly.

She was sitting by the curtains of her four-poster bed, but her gaze pierced through the heavy velvet, as if it could penetrate the thick stone walls of the castle and fall upon the deep, damp dungeons.

The dried reddish-brown bloodstain on Rong's shoulder and the deep weariness in his eyes kept flashing before her. "…Hmm? Oh, gold is good."

She answered distractedly, her thumb unconsciously rubbing the rough paper of the candy bag. Time felt like thick syrup, every second stretching out endlessly. He… he should be fine, right?

—On the other side—

Deep within the dungeon, the eerie glow of the Black Lakepermeated the thick glass wall, illuminating the Slytherincommon room like the bottom of a sunken ship's hold. The air was cold and damp, carrying the unique fishy smell of lakebed mud and aquatic plants.

Prefect Fali's emerald-green water-light arena, conjured with her wand, was even more solid than in previous days, its edges rippling with water, emitting a dangerous yet alluring sheen.

The arena was already packed with Slytherin students, their silver-green ties and robe hems swaying in the dim light, like a silent forest of snakes. Whispers buzzed, coalescing into a suppressed tide.

Professor Snape materialized silently from the shadows of the wall, appearing in the corner of the teachers' viewing platform.

He stood erect in his black robes, hands clasped within his sleeves, his sallow face illuminated by the flickering firelight of the fireplace and the dim lake glow, resembling a cold stone sculpture. His gaze pierced through the crowd, precisely locking onto the entrance.

Uchiha Rong walked in. He had changed into a clean, dark-green school robe, which made his complexion appear even paler, but his black eyes gleamed astonishingly in the dim light, like cold stars forged in fire.

Cheng, Xian, Lan, and Lin followed closely behind, like imperial guards protecting their monarch, silently surveying the entire hall. The invisible pressure made several students in the front row instinctively take half a step back.

Prefect Fali walked to the center of the arena. Her voice, amplified by magic, echoed clearly in the silent space: "Final Challenge! According to tradition, first-year Uchiha Rong has passed the trials of all challengers in his year and has qualified as a candidate for Prefect.

Now, we begin the challenge for upper-year Prefects!" Her wand traced a silver line in the air, and several points of light illuminated in sequence:

"Rules: Upper-year Prefect candidates will step onto the stage. Uchiha Rong must withstand each person for one minute without being defeated to successfully complete the challenge and defend his position.

Challengers in order: Second-year Prefect Reed, third-year Prefect Avery, fourth-year Prefect Montague, fifth-year Prefect Warrington, sixth-year Prefect Nott!"

"How about we change the rules. If you can last one minute against me, you win? How about that?" Rong's words were incredibly arrogant, igniting the anger of all the proud individuals present.

"Draco?"

Yes, Draco, as a first-year challenger, was the first to step onto the stage.

Everyone's gaze focused on the arena, sweeping over Draco Malfoy, who stood at the edge of the crowd with a grim expression. Pansy was right beside him.

Draco's pure-blood supremacy creed screamed for him to crush this obnoxious "Mudblood."

However, the terrifying strength Rong had displayed over the past few days, far beyond his imagination, completely extinguished his last shred of delusional courage like cold lake water, leaving only the fear of being forced back by the vast disparity and a deep-seated humiliation.

He avoided everyone's gaze, especially Snape's cool scrutiny, burying himself deeper into the shadows of the crowd.

"Second-year Prefect, Reed, please step onto the stage!" Fali's voice fell.

Reed was quite large and, with the impulsiveness of a second-year, immediately roared, "Densaugeo!" and brandished his wand.

Rong's figure, like a ghost, had already closed in the moment Reed began his incantation, moving so fast that only an afterimage remained. A precise hand chop struck the nerve on Bulstrode's wand-holding wrist.

Reed's entire arm instantly went numb, his wand clanged to the ground, and the spell abruptly ceased.

Then, with a push from Rong, his massive body spun like a clumsy top and tumbled off the arena. The entire process took less than ten seconds.

"This, this is too fast, isn't it?"

"Third-year Prefect, Avery!" A hint of disbelief entered Fali's voice, but rules were rules.

Avery learned his lesson, immediately casting "Locomotor Mortis!" A swift grey light shot out. Rong didn't even move much; his body slid sideways at an incredibly slight angle, and the grey light grazed past him.

At the same time, he hooked a small stone fragment from the ground with his toe. The Chakra-infused stone, like an arrow shot from a powerful bow, hit Avery's ankle with a dull thud.

Avery screamed, his leg stiffening as he fell to the ground, and Fali, frowning, had him removed.

Time: fifteen seconds.

"Fourth-year Prefect, Montague!"

Montague was noticeably stronger than the previous few. He unleashed a barrage of Stupefy spells, attempting to take down the arrogant boy before him.

Fast and fierce, they sealed off Rong's dodging space. Rong's figure weaved through the gaps between the spells, like dancing on a knife's edge, narrowly avoiding them several times.

He used the edge of the arena and the curve of the water-light barrier to create blind spots, faking a move that caused Montague's spell to go wide. Seizing the opportunity, he closed in and delivered a precise elbow strike to Montague's ribs.

The gentleman instantly had the wind knocked out of him, clutching his ribs and kneeling on the ground. Fali declared his defeat.

Time: forty seconds.

"Fifth-year Prefect, Warrington!" The eyes of those present gradually shifted from annoyance to calmness, then to awe, and this gaze made Fali feel a great threat.

Warrington learned from Montague's lesson, not seeking a quick victory. He immediately cast a thick Shield Charm, playing it safe and steady, attempting to drag out the minute.

Rong didn't engage directly, his figure circling the shield like the wind. At the moment Warrington was highly concentrated on maintaining the shield, an inconspicuous small stone struck the back of his opponent's neck from an extremely tricky angle.

The shield shattered instantly, and Warrington, clutching his neck, became disoriented. Rong gently pushed him off the stage. Time: fifty-five seconds. Just on the edge, but a complete defeat.

"Sixth-year Prefect, Nott!"

Montague Nott slowly ascended the stage.

He didn't attack immediately, his wand held low, his gaze calmly observing Rong. Rong also stopped his high-speed movement, breathing slightly, sweat trickling down his pale cheeks. But his eyes were still as sharp as blades.

Nott suddenly moved, his wand tracing a complex trajectory, and a condensed, almost solid, red light of Expelliarmus shot out, its speed far exceeding the previous challengers! Rong's pupils contracted slightly, and he dodged sharply sideways, the red light grazing his robe hem.

Nott's subsequent spells connected extremely quickly—an Impediment Jinx, a Stupefy, and even a tricky Leg-Locker Curse followed in rapid succession. The spell lights wove into a net, demonstrating solid skill and the shrewdness expected of a sixth-year.

Rong's figure darted and weaved at high speed on the small arena, his Sharingan rapidly analyzing the spell trajectories under the shadow of his hood. Each dodge was incredibly perilous.

He attempted to close in several times but was forced back by Nott's precise Shield Charms and area-of-effect spells.

On the arena, spell lights flashed and figures flew, and for a moment, they were at a stalemate! The audience below was silent, everyone holding their breath.

The sixty-second mark quietly ran out in Prefect Fali's hourglass.

"Time's up!" Fali's voice broke the suffocating stalemate. "Uchiha Rong has successfully lasted one minute. He has defended the title of first-year Prefect."

More or less, some people looked at Fali with confusion—this is called 'lasting'? It's clearly just that time ran out, isn't it?

Nott breathed slightly, retracted his wand, and nodded at Rong, his face expressionless, then turned and left the stage. Rong stood in the center of the arena, his chest rising and falling slightly, sweat soaking his temples, but his gaze remained as sharp as a blade.

He displayed the power of the Uchiha, but Nott was the only one who lasted a full minute against him, neither humble nor arrogant, calm and composed. This person should not be made an enemy!

Prefect Fali took a deep breath, suppressing the complex emotions in her eyes, and stepped forward. In her hand, she held the obsidian snake-shaped badge, representing the underground authority, its snake eyes inlaid with tiny emeralds, glinting with a cold luster in the dim light.

"According to tradition, strength is paramount," Fali's voice echoed clearly. "First-year Uchiha Rong has successfully passed all challenges in his year and remained undefeated in the upper-year Prefect challenge!

From this moment on, you are the Slytherin first-year Prefect!" She solemnly handed the badge to Rong.

Rong reached out. Just as his fingertips were about to touch the cold obsidian—

"Wait."

A cold, slick voice, like a venomous snake flicking its tongue, cut through the silence. The voice was not loud, but it seemed to carry magic, instantly freezing everyone's movements and breath.

Professor Snape emerged from the shadows of the corner. His black robes billowed without a breeze as he stepped onto the edge of the arena, his sallow face appearing even more sinister in the flickering light and shadow.

His gaze, like two daggers dipped in potent poison, pierced the air and fixed firmly on Rong's face, also sweeping over the four other Uchiha behind him, who stood equally straight-backed.

"Performance… acceptable." Snape's voice was long and slow, carrying a hint of condescending affirmation, but more so, a cold scrutiny. "The Prefect position, you may take it." His gaze fell on Rong's fingers hovering above the badge.

"However," he abruptly changed his tone, a humorless curve forming at the corner of his mouth beneath his black robes, his gaze sharp as a needle, piercing directly into Rong's eyes,

"The true authority of the Snake Pit never easily acknowledges outsiders, especially first-years. A first-year Prefect challenging an official Prefect? Unheard of." He deliberately paused, letting the words "unheard of" fall with heavy mockery and warning.

"Nevertheless," Snape's wand was now in his gaunt hand, its tip slightly raised, pointing to Prefect Fali at the other end of the arena, whose face had instantly turned extremely grim, even showing a hint of indignation.

Fali clenched her fists. In her fourth year, she had, by virtue of her undeniable strength, publicly defeated the previous Prefect and successfully defended against all challenges to secure her position! Snape's proposal was an insult to her as well.

"To make you, and certain individuals harboring illusions, more clearly understand the chasm between a first-year and those who truly wield power…" Snape's cold gaze returned to Rong, carrying an almost cruel consideration,

"One week from now, right here. First-year Prefect Uchiha Rong, against the Slytherin official Prefect—Gemma Farley!" He deliberately emphasized "first-year" and "official."

"The rules remain the same. If you win," Snape's lips curled into an almost malicious arc, "you will be the new Prefect, and Fali will be demoted to Assistant Prefect. If you lose…"

He drew out the last word, his gaze sweeping the entire hall, finally settling on Rong's pale face. "Then use this defeat to remember well that some positions are not for first-years to covet. And let me see how much of your… impressive strength remains in the face of a true test."

Dead silence.

A dead silence heavier and more suffocating than before.

Prefect Fali's face was ashen, her chest rising and falling slightly.

As for Rong, he simply watched Snape, his black eyes unfathomably deep. Only the dull thud of Grindylows hitting the glass from the depths of the Black Lake, like the beating of war drums, one after another, heavily struck everyone's hearts.

Chapter 18: Star-colored Painkillers

"Head of House, Rong shouldn't be subjected to your..." Uchiha Shiro, anxious, was about to retort Professor Snape's demand before Rong could, but Rong stopped him with a hand.

Rong still maintained a polite smile, but the old injury and the near-depletion of Chakra made his smile look somewhat forced, even with a hint of gritted teeth.

"Why not?" His voice was not loud, but it clearly pierced through the dead silence of the Common Room, "Thank you for your... trust."

As soon as he said this, everyone looked at Rong in disbelief, as if he had willingly jumped into Professor Snape's carefully brewed cauldron of poison.

Only Gemma Farley's gaze grew colder, like the depths of the Black Lake tempered with ice, her jawline taut—Professor Snape's proposal was an outright insult and test for her as well.

A faint, almost satisfied sneer seemed to flit across Professor Snape's sallow face, his black robes rippling silently. "I look forward to the grand spectacle a week from now."

Leaving behind these cold, slippery, snake-like words, his figure vanished as if merging with the shadows on the wall.

The tense air slowly began to flow only after Professor Snape left, carrying the heavy breaths of those who had survived a disaster.

The crowd gradually dispersed amidst suppressed whispers, their gazes towards Rong a mix of pity, mockery, and a hint of imperceptible awe—

Was it foolishness or true confidence to accept such an almost certainly losing challenge?

"You were too impulsive, Rong." Uchiha Lan's cool voice echoed in the now empty Common Room, like ice beads falling on stone, "Professor Snape just wanted you to appear to retreat in the face of difficulty in front of everyone, to fall badly."

The forced smile Rong had maintained instantly collapsed, and he gasped, baring his teeth, almost collapsing, propped up only by Cheng and Lin behind him.

"I understand the reasoning... but one cannot lose the battle even if one loses the person! Hiss—never mind that for now, Xian, quick! Give me a healing spell, I'm in so much pain... my ribs seem to have cracked again, and my shoulder..."

Fine beads of cold sweat seeped from his forehead, his face even paler than before.

Xian's fingertips immediately glowed with a soft, iridescent green light, and the life-infused Chakra carefully probed into Rong's body.

Lan sighed, resignedly pulling out bandages and ointment stickers smelling of herbs from her small bag.

Cheng and Lin, meanwhile, vigilantly scanned their surroundings, ensuring no prying eyes... Time passed amidst the coolness of the ointment and the subtle tingling of mending bones.

Classes? They were just a blurred drone of Professor's voice in the background, and scribbled notes left by self-inking quills on parchment.

During Transfiguration Class, Professor McGonagall asked them to turn a feather into an embroidery needle?

Rong only felt his own bones were about to be shaken apart and reassembled by Nott's spell.

Charms class, Professor Flitwick's high-pitched "Wingardium Leviosa" demonstration?

Rong's mind was filled with the potentially fatal trajectories that Prefect Fali's unfathomable wand might draw.

History of Magic? Professor Binns's hypnotic tone did allow him a precious nap in between refining Chakra.

Only the golden glow of lunch and dinner could briefly dispel the gloom in Rong's heart and the dull ache in his body.

More importantly, that's where his "charging station" was—Miss Chipmunk.

At lunch that day, Hermione almost rushed into the Great Hall at the sound of the dining bell, her gaze sweeping with radar-like precision to the end of the Slytherin table.

When she saw that Rong, though still pale, seemed to be in better spirits, sipping vegetable soup in small mouthfuls, her tense shoulders finally relaxed slightly.

Carrying her plate piled high with vegetable salad and a small piece of grilled fish, she took an extremely "natural" wide detour and sat down in an empty Gryffindor seat closest to the Slytherin table, yet separated by an aisle—an excellent vantage point where she could clearly see Rong without appearing too deliberate.

Rong almost immediately noticed that familiar gaze.

He looked up, and through the bustling heads and the aroma of food, he accurately caught sight of Hermione.

She was poking at the tomatoes on her plate with a fork, but her eyes occasionally darted over, filled with undisguised worry and unspoken words.

Rong winked at her, a shallow smile, much more genuine than before, curving his lips.

Hermione immediately lowered her head, as if caught, pretending to concentrate on arranging the chickpeas in her salad.

But a few seconds later, she couldn't help but look up again. This time, Rong mouthed silently, "I'm fine."

Hermione pouted, and mouthed back, "Liar." She hadn't forgotten how unsteady he looked when Xian helped him leave last night.

Rong chuckled, picked up a scone heavily slathered with jam, waved it at her, then pointed to his shoulder—meaning, "With sugar, it heals faster."

Hermione was so amused by his childish gesture that she almost rolled her eyes, but her tightly pressed lips ultimately couldn't help but curve upwards.

She lowered her head, fumbled in her satchel for her copy of "Advanced Potion-Making," and pretended to study it, though her flushed earlobes betrayed her.

The atmosphere at dinner was more relaxed than at lunch. When Hermione once again "coincidentally" sat in that observation spot, Rong, holding his pumpkin juice and a small dish of pudding, stood up very naturally.

Under everyone's watchful eyes (especially Draco Malfoy's venomous gaze and Pansy's gasp of astonishment), he crossed that invisible "Gryffindor-Slytherin dividing line" and sat down in the empty seat next to Hermione.

"Hey!" Hermione jumped, almost flicking the peas off her fork, "You... how did you get over here? Slytherin's side..."

"It's too crowded over there, the air isn't good, not conducive to an injured person's recovery." Rong said without changing his expression, pushing the pudding between them, picking up a small spoon, digging out a large chunk, and stuffing it into his mouth, mumbling, "Besides, a certain know-it-all Miss was staring so obviously, if I didn't come over, I was afraid she'd twist her neck."

"Who was staring at you!" Hermione's cheeks instantly flushed crimson, like ripe tomatoes, her curly hair seeming to fluff up even more, like an angry cat, "I... I was just thinking about improving the Draught of Living Deathrecipe for Potions Class!

Professor Snape's lecture last week on the effect of the moonstone powder crystal lattice structure changes on the peak efficacy, I think it could definitely be combined with the cold extraction method mentioned on page 137 of 'Potent Potions,' which might reduce the risk of nerve paralysis threshold fluctuations..."

She spoke rapidly, trying to build a wall with academia.

Rong listened quietly, a smile playing on his lips.

He liked to see Hermione like this, talking animatedly, eyes sparkling, which made him temporarily forget the dull ache in his shoulder blade and the pressure of the week ahead.

Only when she paused to catch her breath did he slowly begin: "That's a good idea. But Professor Granger, have you considered that if pearl powder were used to replace part of the moonstone powder, combined with your cold extraction, would it further reduce that 'irreversible brain damage risk'?

I seem to have seen a similar idea in some... er... ancient text." He cleverly referenced the information on the note Hermione had secretly slipped him.

Hermione's eyes instantly widened, like two sparkling hazelnuts: "Pearl powder? Its magical conductivity inertia is indeed lower than moonstone powder, but the molecular bond energy levels... Wait! How do you know this?" She suddenly reacted, staring suspiciously at Rong.

Rong shrugged, looking innocent: "I already said it was an ancient text. Probably called... 'Five Years of Potions, Three Years of Practice'?" He made it up on the spot, and dug another spoonful of pudding.

Hermione was exasperated, her curly hair gently swaying with her head shake: "Talking nonsense again!"

She snatched the spoon from Rong's hand, dug a small piece of pudding herself and put it in her mouth, the sweet taste melting on her tongue, diluting the worry in her heart.

She looked at Rong's profile, tired but smiling, her voice dropping, with a hint of imperceptible softness:

"...Is that Prefect Fali very formidable? I heard people say she defeated the Prefect at the time when she was in her fourth year... and no one has successfully challenged her since."

Rong's chewing paused. He swallowed the pudding in his mouth, his gaze directed towards the front of the Slytherintable.

Fali was dining elegantly, occasionally conversing in low tones with her classmates, her profile cold and unreadable. "Yes, very strong."

He admitted it readily, "Being able to firmly hold the Prefect position in her fourth year definitely wasn't due to luck. Professor Snape wants to see me get beaten black and blue in front of her." His tone was flat, as if stating a fact unrelated to himself.

Hermione's heart tightened.

She looked at the faint bruise that hadn't completely faded from Rong's pale face, and how his knuckles were slightly white from gripping the spoon. "Then... then you..." She wanted to ask, "Do you have confidence?" but felt the question was too cruel.

Rong turned his head, meeting her brown eyes filled with worry.

He suddenly smiled, not the polite, fake smile, but a bright, youthful smile that diluted the fatigue in his eyes.

"Afraid I'll lose too badly, and Professor Granger will be embarrassed?" He deliberately teased her.

"Who's afraid of being embarrassed!" Hermioneimmediately retorted, like a cat whose tail had been stepped on, but then she deflated, her voice muffled, "I'm afraid you..." Afraid you'll be more seriously injured, afraid you'll truly be completely crushed... She didn't voice the rest of the words.

Rong looked at the pudding on the plate, using the edge of the spoon to scrape the remaining frosting, drawing a crooked Uchiha clan emblem, then quickly erasing it. "Don't worry,"

His voice was very soft, yet carried a strange certainty, "I'm going to be... well... Hogwarts' strongest security guard. This small situation, I can handle it."

He used a self-deprecating remark from his previous life, but a sharp glint, belonging to an Uchiha prodigy, flashed in his eyes.

Hermione was amused by his strange "ambition," but her worrying mood inexplicably lightened a little. She fumbled in her small bag, pulled out two perfectly wrapped candies, and placed them in Rong's palm.

"Here, for the pain." She turned her face away, pretending to look at Dumbledore's flowing silver-white beard at the teachers' table, "Jasmine flavored, much tastier than Madam Pomfrey's stimulant."

Rong looked at the two familiar green candy balls in his palm, his fingertips still feeling the lingering warmth from when she placed them there. He peeled one open and popped it into his mouth; a cool sweetness instantly spread, as if even the dull ache in his shoulder blade had lessened a bit.

"Mmm, it really is delicious." He said softly, his gaze falling on Hermione's slightly reddened earlobes, his smile deepening.

The clamor of the dinner seemed to be shut out. Candles flickered on the long tables, casting a warm glow between them.

The coolness of two mints, the sweetness of a pudding, a clumsy comfort, and an even clumsier response, briefly wove a small patch of gentle starlight above this cold snake pit, before the coming storm.

Rong's fingers unconsciously rubbed the cold obsidian badge in his robe pocket, feeling its sharp edges. A week from now... He looked up, his gaze seeming to penetrate the magical starry sky of the Great Hall's ceiling, seeing the unavoidable duel.

But at this moment, the rustling of the candy wrapper in his palm and the soft turning of book pages by the girl beside him were the only clear echoes.

In the distance, Lan and Xian, at some unknown point, leaned together, watching Rong and Hermione like stalkers, their eyes gleaming.