Chapter 19: First confrontation with Farley! (Part 1)
A week slipped by unnoticed amidst the slow recovery of Chakra and the subtle tingling in his bones, like a water snake silently gliding through the depths of the Black Lake.
He was like a sharp blade sheathed, silently honing himself, waiting for the moment to be drawn.
— — — —
Golden light of the luncheon spilled across the Great Hall, food aromas intertwining with the clamor of voices.
Hermione distractedly stirred her cream of mushroom soup, her gaze, however, drawn like a magnet, fixed on the end of the Slytherin long table.
Uchiha Rong was quietly eating, his profile somewhat blurred in the light and shadow, but his composure made Hermione's heart pound even harder.
Just then, from the faculty table, Professor Snape's cold, oily voice, amplified by magic, swept through the entire Great Hall like a cold current:
"Silence."
The clamor ceased abruptly. Snape stood up, his black robes billowing without a breeze, his sallow face wearing a somewhat theatrical solemnity. His gaze swept across the room, finally landing precisely in Uchiha Rong's direction, a barely perceptible curve forming at the corner of his mouth.
"Given that an unprecedented contest will unfold tonight — a fresh-faced first-year student dares to challenge the authority of Slytherin's current Prefect, Gemma Farley —"
His voice emphasized "unprecedented" and "dares," full of incitement,
"To ensure that this duel, worthy of being recorded in Hogwarts' 'Anecdotes,' receives due attention, and to prevent certain... uncontrollable factors from damaging public facilities..."
He paused meaningfully, "I have obtained Headmaster Dumbledore's generous permission."
Dumbledore, at the head table, smiled and nodded, his blue eyes behind his half-moon spectacles twinkling with an unfathomable light.
"The duel venue," Professor Snape's voice suddenly rose, carrying the authority of a pronouncement, "is set for the Quidditch pitch! Time: Eight o'clock sharp tonight!
Additionally... all means are permitted in this duel, except for the Unforgivable Curses! All teachers and students are welcome... to attend and observe."
He spoke the last four words like a venomous snake flicking its tongue, full of a chilling invitation.
"Boom —" The Great Hall instantly erupted. Whispers turned into excited discussions and incredulous exclamations. A first-year challenging a Prefect? And on the Quidditch pitch?! This was simply the biggest sensation of the century!
Draco Malfoy's face broke into a gloating smile, as if he could already see Uchiha Rong's miserable state after being knocked down from high above — this way he could account for his own cowardice.
The Gryffindor long table was in an uproar, Ron's mouth hung open, Harry frowned deeply, and Hermione's face instantly turned pale, her spoon clattering into her bowl.
She looked sharply at Uchiha Rong, only to see him calmly cutting the roasted potatoes on his plate, as if Professor Snape had merely announced a regular Quidditch practice. As if sensing Hermione's gaze, Uchiha Rong looked up and smiled, then continued eating.
"Uchiha Rong..." Hermione silently mouthed his name, her heart feeling as if it was being squeezed by an invisible hand.
Night fell.
The Quidditch pitch was illuminated as bright as day by countless floating magical torches.
The tall goalposts cast long shadows under the night sky, and the stands were already packed, teeming with people.
Students from different houses crowded together, their gazes of excitement, curiosity, mockery, and worry intertwining into a vast net, covering the empty grassy patch in the center of the pitch.
The air was filled with the scent of grass and a tense feeling of impending storm.
Professor Snape, like a dark master of ceremonies in control of everything, stood on the referee's stand (a temporarily erected platform) at the edge of the pitch, flanked by the stern-faced Professor McGonagall and the somewhat inquisitive Professor Flitwick.
Dumbledore sat in the highest teacher's box, his silver beard and hair gleaming in the torchlight.
Gemma Farley was the first to enter the pitch. She had changed out of her school robes, wearing a dark green, close-fitting outfit that allowed for easy movement, outlining her agile figure.
Her dark brown hair was neatly tied back, revealing a clear forehead and a pair of eyes as sharp as a hawk's. She held her wand, her steps steady, each one carrying the confidence of a Prefect and the sharpness honed by practical combat.
Her record of defeating the previous Prefect and securing her position in her fourth year gave her ample reason to look down on this first-year student. Her gaze swept over the stands, finally resting on the opposite entrance, filled with scrutiny and cold battle intent.
Uchiha Rong's figure appeared shortly after. He was still wearing his Slytherin dark green school robes, his face appearing even paler under the bright lights, but his back was ramrod straight.
His black eyes were as still as water, as if the booming voices from the stands and the focused gazes had nothing to do with him. Cheng, Xian, Lan, and Lin followed a few steps behind him, like a silent black screen.
In the stands, Hermione gripped the front railing tightly, her knuckles white, while Harry and Ron beside her also held their breath.
"Uchiha Rong, be careful. There's no relay here, and taijutsu won't be an advantage."
Professor Snape wasted no words, pointing his wand at the sky, and a dazzling red light exploded: "Begin!"
Almost at the instant the red light dissipated, Fali's wand was already raised!
"Locomotor Mortis!" A silent spell! A swift gray light tore through the air, shooting directly at Uchiha Rong's lower body. The movement was so fast it left only an afterimage!
Uchiha Rong's pupils constricted slightly, and his body slid back and to the side like a phantom, the gray light narrowly grazing the hem of his robe before hitting the ground, leaving a small patch of stiff grass.
Before he could regain his footing, Fali's second wave of attack followed immediately!
"Impedimenta!"
"Expelliarmus!"
Two streams of spell light, one on the left and one on the right, sealed off his dodging space! Fali's spellcasting was as fluid as breathing, the spells condensed with power, and the angles were tricky, demonstrating combat prowess and magical control far beyond ordinary students!
Uchiha Rong's figure twisted and folded at high speed in the confined space, his Sharingan frantically operating under the shadow of his hood, predicting the trajectory of the spells.
He narrowly slipped through the gap between the two spell lights, the wind pressure from his movement stirring up grass clippings on the ground. A gasp erupted from the stands!
"Only dodging, Uchiha?" Fali's cold voice came, carrying a hint of disdain. Her wand drew a larger arc, "Incendio!"
A scorching wave of fire appeared out of thin air, carrying a blistering heat, sweeping towards Uchiha Rong in a fan shape! An area attack!
"This really won't kill anyone, will it?..." The conversation of those nearby struck Hermione's already uneasy heart like a heavy hammer.
The flames reflected on Uchiha Rong's pale face. He could no longer rely purely on speed to dodge!
In the nick of time, he stomped the ground, his body shooting backward and upward like an arrow from a bowstring. At the same time, two specially sharpened metal plates slipped from his sleeve. Infused with Chakra, they shot out like shurikens, aimed directly at Fali's wand-holding wrist and knee!
"Clink! Clink!" Fali reacted extremely quickly, tapping her wand, "Protego!" A translucent silver shield instantly formed, precisely deflecting the metal plates with a crisp impact sound.
The flames grazed the soles of Uchiha Rong's shoes, the scorching heat making him gasp for breath.
"Petty tricks!" Fali sneered, her shield still up, her wand raised again, "Petrificus Totalus!" The light of the Petrificus Totalus spell, like cold chains, shot directly at Uchiha Rong, who was still in mid-air with no leverage!
The crimson light in Uchiha Rong's eyes flared! His Sharingan spun rapidly! At the moment the spell light reached him, his body twisted forcibly at an eerie angle almost impossible for a human, like a puppet pulled by invisible strings, narrowly avoiding vital points.
But the spell light still grazed his left arm! A strong sense of numbness instantly spread!
He grunted, falling from the air, and rolled to dissipate the impact, but his left arm was already somewhat unresponsive. Hermione's gasp in the stands almost burst from her throat.
How could Fali miss this opportunity? Like a hunting leopard, she rapidly closed in, her wand pointed directly at Uchiha Rong's chest, her lips silently moving — the spell trajectory was dangerous and deadly!
"Sectumsempra!" An invisible, air-rending shriek suddenly rang out! A Dark Arts spell invented by Professor Snape! She actually used it in plain sight!
"Be careful!" Hermione couldn't help but cry out.
A fatal sense of crisis washed over him like ice water! Uchiha Rong's hair stood on end!
His old wounds had not healed, his left arm was numb, and the predicament of being in mid-air with no leverage was like a huge cage trapping Uchiha Rong's tactics. He couldn't perfectly avoid this invisible cut with taijutsu anymore! He couldn't dodge! He would die!
No retreat! No escape!
That deep-seated pride and battle intent in his blood, belonging to the Uchiha clan, like a volcano suppressed to its limit, was completely ignited by the threat of death at this moment! What hiding! What rules! Survive! Win!
There was no longer any hesitation in Uchiha Rong's eyes, only an almost insane desire to fight!
He no longer tried to dodge, but instead stood firm, facing the invisible deadly edge, his hands forming seals in front of his chest at a speed imperceptible to the naked eye!
The remaining Chakra in his body, more than half, surged into his throat like a bursting flood, heedless of everything!
[Snake – Ram – Monkey – Boar – Horse – Tiger]
"Let me show you the power of the Uchiha!" Low syllables burst from his throat, each sound like a dull drumbeat echoing over the silent Quidditch pitch, carrying a strange rhythm distinct from magic spells!
Blazing! Unimaginable high temperatures instantly erupted centered on Uchiha Rong! The air was scorched and distorted, the grass instantly turned yellow and withered!
A fiery orange fireball, more than a zhang in diameter, carrying the terrifying might to incinerate everything, like a miniature sun, suddenly appeared in the center of the Quidditch pitch!
"Fire Release: Great Fireball Technique!"
Flames roared! Light was dazzling!
The terrifying wave of flames, with its destructive aura, instantly engulfed everything in front of it, including the invisible Sectumsempra spell, and Gemma Farley's horrified figure!
Chapter 20: First Confrontation with Farley (Part 2)
"Dodge!" Prefect Fali instinctively cast a Shield Charm and leaped to the side, her dueling footwork now so powerless it couldn't even escape the radius of the Great Fireball.
"Impedimenta!" With a sharp cry, the Great Fireball's speed halved, giving Prefect Fali time to escape and Uchiha Ronga chance to dissipate the force in mid-air.
She exploded with all her strength, once again making a nearly clumsy lunge and roll, fleeing with all her might to the side and back. Elegance? At this moment, only survival mattered!
"Buzz—"
Invisible barrier fields heavily coiled around the fire orb. The violent impact was forcibly dragged and weakened.
It was this crucial delay, combined with Prefect Fali's undignified dive, that allowed her to narrowly avoid the core of destruction. But the edge of the scorching flame wave swept over her mercilessly.
Sizzle! Her dark green combat suit charred and curled. Exposed arms and cheeks instantly erupted in a string of blood blisters.
Her dark brown braid came undone, the ends scorched and curled, and a pungent burnt smell permeated the air. She fell heavily onto the scalding ground, gasping for breath, her lungs feeling like they were on fire, her magic greatly depleted.
"Boom!" The fire orb exploded, a deafening blast tearing through the silence of the Quidditch pitch. The orange-red fireball expanded wildly, instantly engulfing Prefect Fali's previous position.
The terrifying heat wave, like an invisible giant fist, violently ripped up and carbonized the turf. That lethal Severing Charm silently melted away before the all-consuming flames.
"Buzz—"
The moment Uchiha Rong exhaled the Great Fireball, he used the violent recoil to shoot backward and upward like an arrow released from a bow.
He precisely twisted his waist and flipped in mid-air, his movements as fluid as a dance. His legs slightly bent, his toes touched the ground as lightly as a feather, skillfully dissipating all impact, only stirring up an imperceptible circle of dust.
However, the terrifying consumption of forcibly increasing the Great Fireball's volume far exceeded expectations. His Chakra instantly bottomed out. Intense pain erupted from his chest, and a metallic taste surged up his throat, which he swallowed down fiercely.
The Chakra within his body was as thin as a wisp, barely enough to keep his Sharingan active. His face was ashen, and his Sharingan locked onto Prefect Fali, who was struggling to get up, his brain frantically calculating amidst the dizziness.
The entire Quidditch pitch fell into a deathly silence. In the stands, all sounds were choked off by the world-destroying sight. Hermione clutched her mouth, her nails digging deep into her palms, her worry swirling in her eyes as she watched.
The brief silence was broken. The battle resumed, but the rhythm suddenly changed drastically.
Prefect Fali wiped away the beads of blood seeping from her cheek. The Prefect's pride in her eyes receded, leaving only a Slytherin-like cold sense of purpose: to achieve her goal at all costs. Her wand movements were no longer flashy, her spells concise and deadly.
"Stupefy!" A cunning grey light shot straight for Uchiha Rong's paralyzed left arm.
"Diffindo!" A shattering spell followed close behind. Its target, however, was the ground beneath Uchiha Rong's feet.
"Incarcerous!" The spell light was concealed, hidden behind several flying pieces of charred turf.
Uchiha Rong's Sharingan rotated at high speed. His depleted Chakra made his predictions heavy.
He abandoned large-scale evasive maneuvers, his body twisting and folding to its limit within a small space. Relying solely on his well-honed muscle memory and the insight of his Sharingan, he narrowly twisted his body to avoid the Stupefy.
He stomped his foot and leaped, dodging the sinking ground. At the same time, his last shuriken slid out of his sleeve, infused with a faint amount of Chakra, and shot out like lightning. Clang! It accurately deflected the spell light of Incarcerous.
"Vulnera Sanentur!" Prefect Fali's follow-up was breathtakingly fast. The spell was not aimed at Uchiha Rong, but at a large cornerstone of the stands beside him, loosened by the explosion.
"Boom!"
The giant stone exploded. Countless fragments, like deadly buckshot, shot at Uchiha Rong, covering the area, leaving no escape.
Uchiha Rong's pupils constricted, "Damn it, I overdid it." His Chakra was almost completely depleted. There was nothing he could do. He could only endure it. He gritted his teeth, rolled to his side, and crossed his arms, desperately protecting his head and face.
Thud! Thud! Thud!
The hard stone fragments were like heavy hammers, striking his shoulders and ribs.
The intense pain made his vision go black. He staggered backward repeatedly, coughing up a mouthful of blood foam with a strong metallic taste. His Chakra was completely exhausted.
His Sharingan dimmed and closed as his power ran out. His vision instantly blurred and swayed.
Prefect Fali was also at her limit. The wound on her cheek burned painfully, and the hand holding her wand trembled uncontrollably. Her magic was like a spring that had not seen rain in a long time, on the verge of drying up.
But the Prefect's pride and Slytherin's cold principles supported her. She gathered the last trace of magic in her body, and the familiar red light of the Expelliarmus spell lit up at the tip of her wand.
The red light shot out, aimed directly at Uchiha Rong, who was barely standing.
Uchiha Rong watched the not-so-fast light approach, but his body felt as heavy as if filled with lead.
No Chakra, no Sharingan, he couldn't dodge. He subconsciously tightened his grip on the cold kunai hilt in his sleeve, preparing to take the hit head-on.
"Finite Incantatem."
A cold voice, as if from the netherworld, descended like a judgment. Snape, as if condensed from shadows, appeared ghost-like between the two.
With a casual flick of his wand, the red light Prefect Falihad cast vanished like a fragile soap bubble, popping into nothingness.
Deathly silence.
Absolute silence enveloped the Quidditch pitch. Only the heavy, suppressed gasps of the two and the crackling of burning torches remained.
Snape's sallow face was expressionless. His cold gaze, like a scalpel, slowly swept over the two, who were covered in injuries, disheveled, yet still stubbornly standing. The silence lasted for a few seconds, an invisible pressure making everyone in the stands feel suffocated.
Finally, his oily voice was amplified by magic, piercing clearly into everyone's eardrums:
"magic depleted, tactics exhausted, only will remains. Victory or defeat is meaningless now." He paused for a moment, his gaze lingering on Prefect Fali and Uchiha Rong respectively. In his unfathomable dark eyes, a faint, lightning-fast flicker of approval seemed to pass.
"This battle is a draw."
A draw!
The result was like a clap of thunder, erupting into an even greater uproar in the stands. Shock, bewilderment, disappointment, relief.
All kinds of emotions wildly intertwined and collided.
Dumbledore stood up, his silver-white beard flowing with a soft glow in the torchlight. His voice was gentle yet held a calming power: "A magnificent contest that showcased extraordinary courage and exceptional skill.
It shows us that boundaries are not insurmountable, and a tenacious will is the most brilliant cornerstone of strength.
Let us give the Hogwarts applause to Prefect Fali and Mr. Uchiha Rong."
He gave Snape a meaningful look.
Tonight's gossip, he thought, would surely be particularly intriguing.
"Now, please allow Madam Pomfrey to attend to our champions, and everyone may exit in an orderly fashion."
The applause was sparse at first, hesitant, but gradually coalesced into a rather enthusiastic ocean, mostly out of respect for the Headmaster and a complex response to this shocking duel.
The crowd began to loosen and surge. Madam Pomfrey, dressed in white robes, hurried toward the center of the Quidditch pitch with a first-aid kit, her face anxious.
However, Snape moved.
He was like two dense shadows parting the crowd, moving like lightning. One hand precisely gripped Prefect Fali's uninjured wrist, the other firmly grasped Uchiha Rong's arm. His grip was undeniable.
"Follow me." His low voice carried a cold command, allowing no refusal.
His black robes billowed like giant bat wings, and he pulled the two, instantly merging into the dark side passage leading to the castle, disappearing without a trace. Only a stunned Madam Pomfrey and a sea of bewildered faces remained.
In the stands, Hermione's face instantly turned pale. Where were they going? A huge unease, like a cold tide, instantly drowned out her fear of Snape.
She didn't even have time to say a word to Harry and Ronbeside her. Like a startled yet incredibly determined fawn, she desperately pushed through the crowd in front of her, chasing after the dark side passage that had swallowed Uchiha Rong!
"Hermione!" Harry cried out, quickly exchanging glances with Ron, who was equally shocked and bewildered.
"Stop talking nonsense, let's go follow them!" Rongrowled, and the two immediately pushed aside the people in their way, closely trailing Hermione's brown figure, and plunged into the shadows of the side door.
Deep within the castle.
A cold, dark corridor.
There was only the rustling of Snape's black robes dragging across the stone floor, and the suppressed, heavy breathing of Prefect Fali and Uchiha Rong. The thick darkness enveloped them, also concealing the imminent secret conversation.
And not far behind them, three small figures held their breath, pressing their bodies tightly against the cold stone wall.
Like startled young beasts, they cautiously moved forward step by step, their heartbeats drumming in the deathly silent corridor.
Hermione's eyes saw only Uchiha Rong's figure in the darkness ahead, her worry overriding all fear.
Unknown ripples had quietly spread beneath the deep pool.
Chapter 21: Private lessons taught by Teacher Si?
The shadows in the side passage were as thick as sediment at the bottom of a Potion cauldron, swallowing light and sound. Snape's footsteps echoed monotonously on the cold flagstones, like a death knell. His grip on Ronand Fali's wrists was like cold iron shackles, impossible to break free from.
Ron could feel a burning and numbing sensation from where the Severing Charm had grazed his left arm. Each breath pulled at the dull ache in his ribs from the impact of the rubble, and the exhaustion after his Chakra was depleted clung to him like a maggot in bone, making his steps unsteady.
Fali was no better; the burns on her cheeks and arms throbbed in the gloom, and her dark brown hair clung messily to her sweaty temples. Though she tried to maintain the steady pace of a Prefect, her steps revealed the heavy weariness of someone at their limit.
After an unknown duration of traversing the darkness, a heavy oak door silently slid open. A potent, strange aroma, a mix of wormwood, dragon's claw powder, moon dew flower, and a certain aged mustiness, assailed them—they had arrived at Professor Snape's private office and Potionstorage room.
The light was dim, with only the faint blue flame beneath a cauldron in the corner and the nearly extinguished embers in the fireplace providing weak illumination. The walls were dominated by towering cabinets, countless labeled glass bottles and jars glimmering eerily, like numerous prying eyes.
Professor Snape finally released his grip. Fali stumbled, steadying herself against the edge of a table piled high with parchments.
Ron, meanwhile, slid down to sit against the cold wooden door, his chest heaving violently, a sweet, metallic taste rising in his throat.
"Drink it."
Professor Snape's voice was devoid of emotion.
His gaunt fingers precisely plucked two slender-necked crystal vials from inside his robe pocket. They contained a viscous, molten emerald-like liquid, emitting a bizarre scent that combined the coolness of mint with the putrid stench of a rotting swamp.
Professor Snape's Potions were famously awful.
But before Ron could react, Fali took a deep breath, pulled out the stopper first, and, with a tight frown, as if facing execution, tilted her head back and gulped it down.
Her face contorted for a moment, but in the end, she drank every last drop.
"This woman doesn't drink this stuff every day, does she? So decisive?" Ron looked at her suspiciously, but the bottle in front of him was pushed even closer.
Ron stepped forward and took the bottle. The pungent smell went straight to his head.
He held his breath and drank it all.
The moment the liquid slid down his throat, it felt as if he had swallowed a viscous slime mixed with ice shards and thorns, bitter, acrid, and choking. The intense mint flavor stung his nasal cavity.
A rotten aftertaste, like ancient corpses steeped in a foul ditch, followed immediately.
Ron's face instantly crumpled, his stomach churning.
"Ugh..." Ron finally couldn't hold it in and bent over, dry-heaving once.
However, the effect was immediate.
A powerful warm current instantly exploded in his abdomen, as if a small sun had been ignited.
The warm current rapidly flowed through his limbs and bones. Wherever it passed, the burning pain, numbness, and dull aches were wiped away as if by an invisible brush.
An itching sensation of healing came from the burns on his cheeks and arms, and a faint "click" of bones resetting came from his ribs, injured by the rubble.
What shocked Ron even more was that after this powerful yet gentle magic entered his body, it didn't require effort to guide, unlike ordinary magical items. Instead, it naturally integrated into his nearly depleted Chakra network, like sweet rain after a long drought, rapidly nourishing the parched meridians!
His depleted Chakra began to recover at an astonishing speed. Although still far from full, the fatal sense of exhaustion had vanished, and even the numbness in his left arm was greatly reduced.
Ron inwardly observed the miraculous process of magictransforming into Chakra in his body, a storm raging in his heart.
Professor Snape's Potion mastery was truly terrifying!
Moreover, Professor Snape seemed completely unaware of this abnormal conversion of the Potion's power within Ron's body. He merely scanned their rapidly recovering states with his bottomless black eyes, his sallow face devoid of any expression.
Fali also straightened up and flexed her wrists. Some color returned to her face, and her eyes held a sense of relief from surviving a disaster, but her gaze towards Professor Snape remained filled with awe.
A brief silence spread through the Potion-scented office.
"It is a Slytherin tradition," Professor Snape's voice broke the quiet. He paced to the fireplace, his black robes like solidified shadows in the dim light. "An official Prefect is entitled to the Head of House's personal guidance."
He tilted his head slightly, his gaze falling on Fali with his usual scrutiny.
Fali's back instinctively straightened even further, a hint of pride flashing in her eyes. This was her honor, a symbol of her strength and status.
Professor Snape's gaze slowly shifted, landing on Ron, who was leaning against the wall, his face still pale but his eyes now clear.
"But after today," his voice remained cold, yet it carried a strange, undeniable shift, "I have decided to make an exception." He paused, then clearly articulated the rest of his words, "To teach both of you."
"What?!" Fali almost shrieked, the color instantly draining from her face. She abruptly looked up at Professor Snape, her eyes filled with disbelief and the indignant anger of being encroached upon.
Personal guidance!
This was a privilege she, as a Prefect, as the most outstanding student of this generation of Slytherin (in her own estimation), was entitled to!
This first-year… this guy who had forced her to a draw with strange methods and almost ruined the Quidditch pitch… by what right?!
The intense humiliation and the anger of her exclusive privilege being violated made it almost impossible for her to control her expression, her knuckles turning white.
She felt that her hard-won status and the Professor's favor were being roughly shared with this "Obscurus" who had suddenly barged in.
Ron was also stunned for a moment.
Personal guidance? Professor Snape's private lessons?
Countless mischievous associations flashed through his mind instantly:
Being forced to handle gooey slug entrails?
Memorizing excruciatingly long poison recipes?
Or even worse, being forced to taste Professor Snape's failed Potion experiments?
Thinking of the taste of that "Emerald Nectar" just now, his stomach churned again.
What was this old bat up to? Softening him up after suppressing him? Or did he want to observe his 'anomaly' up close?
Ron's mind raced. However… he felt the Chakra slowly recovering in his body, and then recalled the thrilling scene on the Quidditch pitch.
Ninjutsu was powerful enough, but the consumption of Chakra was simply plundering! In this world without natural energy replenishment, Chakra could only be refined slowly, and its recovery was extremely gradual.
In contrast, magic… even without deliberate meditation, seemed to recover slowly over time, just like a game's mana bar automatically regenerating!
Spells… consumed magic! This thought flashed through Ron's mind like lightning.
If he could master powerful spells, using magic as his primary means of attack, and saving his precious Chakrafor critical moments of Ninjutsu bursts or his Sharingan… this would definitely be key to optimizing his power configuration!
Professor Snape, as a top contemporary spell master, his private lessons were worth a thousand gold!
The pros and cons were weighed in an instant. Ronsuppressed his fear of the Potion's taste and his doubts about Professor Snape's intentions, meeting Professor Snape's cold gaze, which seemed to see through people's hearts, and calmly said, "I accept, Professor."
Professor Snape's lips curved upward ever so slightly, so quickly it was almost an illusion, but in his deep, pool-like black eyes, a hint of almost triumphant light clearly flickered.
It was as if he was watching a valuable little snake willingly swim into his cauldron.
"A wise choice, Ron," Professor Snape's voice deepened, carrying a strange rhythm. "Do you know,"
He slowly turned, his back to the two of them, facing the flickering, faint blue flame in the fireplace, "what I always wished to be was never a Potion Professor..."
His tone carried a rare, almost wistful quality, but in the next instant—
—"but a Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor! Expelliarmus!"
As if uttering the spell was merely a reminder, Professor Snape suddenly spun around, his gaunt arm whipping out like a striking viper!
A crimson light, condensed to the extreme, silently tore through the dim air, carrying an unparalleled sharp momentum, precisely shooting towards Ron!
Outside the door, three heads were squeezed against a tiny crack in the door.
Hermione's heart was practically leaping into her throat. She held her breath, straining to hear the muffled conversation inside. Professor Snape's earlier remark, "teach both of you," had shocked and confused her, but Ron's calm voice when he agreed had somewhat reassured her.
But just then, she watched in horror as Professor Snape, with his back to the door, suddenly turned without warning, his arm raised!
From her narrow, distorted angle, the dazzling red light that suddenly flared, the direction of the wand… it was clearly aimed directly at Ron, who was by the door, and… at herself behind the door crack!
"Look out—!" Hermione's scream burst uncontrollably from her throat, exploding with extreme terror in the silent corridor!
Without time to think, Ron leaped to dodge.
The red light inside the door had already struck the heavy wooden door, emitting a dull thud. Wood splinters flew! The powerful impact even caused the door panel to dent inward, forming a shallow pit!
"Oh no!" Harry's face turned ashen.
"We've been caught! Run!" Ron reacted the fastest, grabbing Hermione's arm, who was still startled and whose scream hadn't faded. With his other hand, he yanked Harry's robes.
"Run!" Ron roared, almost dragging the two of them, stumbling as they turned and ran wildly down the dim corridor, their footsteps clattering chaotically on the flagstones, like a startled herd of deer.
Hermione stumbled as she was pulled, glancing back in terror at the office door, which looked as if it had been struck by a demon. Her eyes were filled with extreme worry for Ron's safety, tears welling up.
Inside the door, Professor Snape expressionlessly withdrew his wand, as if the silent Expelliarmus, powerful enough to stun an adult Wizard, was merely brushing dust off his robes.
His cold gaze swept over the fresh dent and scattered wood splinters on the door, then slowly moved towards the doorway, a highly sarcastic and mocking curve forming at the corner of his mouth:
"It seems that besides Troll-like courage, some foolish Gryffindor lions have also evolved the mole's penchant for eavesdropping."
His voice was not loud, but it clearly penetrated the door, like cold venom, seeping into the lingering panic outside the door and the sounds of distant running.
Chapter 22: A Heart in Trouble
The warmth of Gryffindor Tower failed for the first time.
Hermione Granger huddled in the shadows of her four-poster bed, the red hangings no longer a sanctuary but a thick curtain blocking out hope.
Faint starlight from outside seeped in sparingly, unable to illuminate the terrifying silent movie replaying in her mind:
Professor Snape's black robes billowed, like a solidified nightmare suddenly turning;
That scarlet spell, tearing through the gloom, silent yet fatally blinding;
The splintered wood and hideous dents of the blasted oak door... Each flashback was accompanied by her own heart-wrenching, 'Look out—!' as if in the next second, that light would pierce through the door of memory, striking Ron, unprotected behind it!
'He dodged it...' Hermione clenched the corner of her blanket tightly, her nails digging into her palm, trying to dispel the fear with a sense of cold reality.
She remembered clearly that at the moment the red light erupted, Ron's figure had agilely leaped out of the way!
The tugging sensation of Ron's rough hand pulling her sleeve as they ran, Harry's ashen face, and in the last fleeting glimpse, Ron's safe (though disheveled) shadow standing just inside the door... Reason told her that Snape's target was a warning to the eavesdropper, that Ron was fine, that he had agreed to private lessons, and had even drunk a Potion that seemed to have miraculous effects (though Ron's retching made her feel as if she could taste it too).
But 'knowing' was one thing, 'feeling' was another.
That heavy unease, like a cold, soaked snake, tightly coiled around her heart, each beat bringing a suffocating constriction.
Ron's pale face, the bloody foam he coughed up after being hit by debris, his stumbling figure as Professor Snapeforcibly dragged him away... These images stubbornly interspersed between the terrifying red light and splinters, burning repeatedly in the darkness behind her closed eyes.
The strange smell in Professor Snape's office, a mix of rotten swamp and peppermint, seemed to drift through the cracks of memory, tightening her throat.
Could that Potion, which made Ron retch, really heal all his injuries? What kind of 'tutoring' awaited him in that office, as cold and damp as a snake's den?
She forced herself to recall Ron's agility as he leaped out of the way, trying to draw some comfort from it, but the tendrils of fear coiled tighter, as if silently questioning: What about next time? Will he be able to dodge so quickly again next time?
When the first faint light of dawn struggled to climb over the window sill, Hermione sat up, sporting dark circles under her eyes so profound they rivaled smoky eye makeup.
The person in the mirror was as pale as a Mandrake that had just been drained, her bushy curls a tangled mess, her eyes unfocused, filled with the dryness of an all-nighter and an unshakeable worry.
She splashed her face vigorously with cold water, the biting chill making her shiver, but that bone-deep unease, like sticky moss, clung firmly to every inch of her heart.
That day's classes became a long, unfocused torment for Hermione.
In Transfiguration Class, Professor McGonagall asked them to turn snails into delicate glass shards.
Hermione clutched her wand, her usually smooth spells now like a clogged pipe.
Her gaze was drawn by an invisible string, drifting repeatedly towards the classroom door, each creak of the hinge making her heart skip a beat, filled with anticipation of seeing that familiar figure—
But only Neville, carrying a specimen box of Blast-Ended Skrewts, or Seamus, whose hair was still smoking, walked in.
She failed three times; the 'glass' she produced was either slimy and gooey, or so sharply edged it could be a weapon.
Professor McGonagall's stern gaze pierced her like an icicle, sharp but not accusatory.
'Miss Granger!' Professor McGonagall's voice, containing both displeasure and concern, startled Hermione.
'Has Peeves stolen your attention? Pull yourself together! This is not up to your usual standard!'
Hermione's ears burned with shame, and she almost buried her head in her book.
She forced herself to concentrate, and finally produced a glass shard that at least resembled glass, though its edges were blurred, far from her proud standard of perfection.
Charms class was even more disastrous.
Professor Flitwick's reedy voice explained the more subtle silent control of the Levitation Charm.
Hermione's quill unconsciously scratched across the parchment, the tip digging deep into the paper, leaving frantic and meaningless lines.
Professor Flitwick's elegant wrist movements during his demonstration, which should have been her favorite, now made her feel agitated.
She tried to imitate him, but her wand felt as heavy as if filled with lead.
When it was time to practice, her quill merely bounced symbolically on the desktop, like a dying grasshopper.
'Willpower! Focus your willpower, Miss Granger!' Professor Flitwick stood by her desk, his small eyes gleaming with insight.
'Magic follows the mind; a chaotic mind scatters the spell. Has your mind today... drifted to the bottom of the Black Lake?'
Hermione managed a smile that was uglier than a cry: 'I'm sorry, Professor, last night... I didn't get much rest.'
She dared not look into Professor Flitwick's eyes, which seemed to see through people, fearing she would reveal the churning worries in her heart.
The most agonizing parts were lunch and dinner.
She practically rushed into the Great Hall, her gaze sweeping like a searchlight directly to the end of the Slytherin table—the corner where Ron usually sat.
It was empty.
Only the four Uchiha, with their black hair and black eyes, exuding an aura of 'do not approach', were there.
Xian was precisely cutting a small piece of fish with a silver fork, her movements almost clinically meticulous; Cheng was tearing off large pieces of bread, everything as usual;
Lan was sipping pumpkin juice in small sips, her posture elegant yet as distant as an ice sculpture; Lin was holding a copy of 'Ancient Runes Explained' larger than her face, the thick pages seemingly isolating her from the entire world.
Hermione stood still, holding her plate.
She eventually sat back at the Gryffindor table, choosing not to ask Ron's clansmen—despite having spoken up for others, they were not well acquainted.
Each time she looked up, the four silent figures at the Slytherin table seemed to silently remind her: Ron was not there.
The fork in her hand poked at the cod fish intermittently, and she muttered something: 'That annoying Ron, actually hiding from me all day... Next time I definitely won't talk to you!'
She pressed harder with her fork, but the unease in her heart was not diluted by her harsh words.
What if during the old bat's training, Ron didn't avoid one of the spells?
'Hey, Hermione,' Ron said, his mouth full of roasted potatoes, trying to break the silence indistinctly,'Still thinking about last night? Seriously, Snape's attack was really harsh!'
'The door was dented! Ron dodged really fast, didn't he, Harry?' He tried to bring up Ron's agility in a casual tone, hoping to comfort Hermione.
Harry quickly nodded, looking worriedly at Hermione's pale face: 'Yes, Hermione, Ron reacted very quickly, and Professor Snape is a Professor after all...'
But Ron seemed to have a switch flipped, his desire to share instantly overflowing, his voice unconsciously rising with his characteristic exaggeration: 'Professor? I'd say he's more like a venomous snake in Professor's clothing!
Think about how he treated Harry in the first Potions Class!
Asking those beyond-the-curriculum questions! Deliberately making things difficult! Deducting points! That look in his eyes, tsk tsk, exactly like my mum looking at the gnomes stealing her cabbage in the garden! Sinister! Mean!'
He waved his fork, spit flying in the candlelight, 'A private lesson from someone like that? Ron agreeing to it is simply... simply a lamb jumping into a Vampire's dinner plate! Waiting to be torn apart and eaten!'
'Ron!' Harry tried to stop him, but it was too late.
Several Gryffindors around them looked over curiously.
Hermione's heart sank, as if it had been harshly jabbed by Ron's waving fork.
Her mind buzzed, and the dam of rationality instantly collapsed under a surging flood of fear.
Snape's targeting of Harry was vivid in her memory, his inherent contempt for Muggle-borns (she didn't know where she got that idea from), and last night's ruthless, terrifying warning spell!
Ron... a first-year Slytherin with the reputation of an Obscurus, ostracized by pure-blood families, and possessing strange powers, was now alone in that 'venomous snake's' lair... Ron's crude but vivid analogy was like a barbed, poisonous seed, fiercely plunging into Hermione's heart, which had already been repeatedly furrowed by worry.
Professor Snape's unfathomably dark eyes, the cold sneer at the corner of his mouth, the humiliating phrase 'the mole's eavesdropping habit'... all the details became incredibly clear, coated with an ominous glow.
That seed of unease, watered by Ron's unintentional but incredibly precise venom, completely broke through the thin layer of 'trust', germinating and growing twistedly in the darkest corner of Hermione's heart.
She lowered her head, looking at the cod fish on her plate, riddled with holes and unrecognizable from her poking, feeling as if her own heart was like it, pierced by countless sharp worries, hollowly leaking cold air.
Ron, what exactly are you going through? What awaits you behind that thick oak door?
Chapter 23: People who yearn for power
My gaze returned to Rong.
Under the effects of the Potion given by Snape, Rong and Fali quickly recovered from their injuries. With the huge dent on the door and the increasingly distant sound of running outside, a dark cloud seemed to hang over Rong's head.
"Professor, what are you doing? Just to scare them?" Rong had already defined Snape as a cold, growth-oriented child who might have suffered trauma in his childhood. It was probably done by a Gryffindor.
Snape's mouth twitched. Legilimency vaguely conveyed that the child in front of him was emitting a "pitiable" emotion... Wait, why was it only vaguely conveyed? Snapelooked at Fali with confusion. Hmm, Prefect Fali clearly conveyed "respect," "anger," and "jealousy." So it wasn't a problem with Legilimency!
Snape suddenly lunged forward, trying to pin down the distracted Rong. Fali, standing nearby, was startled.
"Professor, what is this?" His body reacted faster than his thoughts. Rong ducked his head and dodged it.
"Who are you? You can't possess such powerful Occlumency at this age!" Snape pulled out his wand and slowly advanced towards Rong.
Rong looked helpless on the surface, but inwardly, a storm was brewing: "Professor, I am an Obscurus. Isn't it normal to have some unusual phenomena?" Unexpectedly, Snapepondered for a moment after hearing this and put away his wand.
"Neither of you is allowed to go anywhere. You'll sleep in the office tonight." Snape tidied his clothes, casually cast an anti-Alohomora on the door, used Transfiguration to turn two chairs into beds, and then left. "Especially you! Mr. Uchiha! Miss Fali, please keep an eye on him."
Fali bowed perfectly as if she had received a mission. After watching Snape leave, she warned Rong, "Red-eyed one, you'd better behave tonight." At the same time, she sat on the edge of the bed near the door and took off her shoes.
Suddenly, she looked up and showed a charming smile: "And keep your eyes in check too~ Although kids your age don't know anything yet, if you make me uncomfortable, then..."
Before she could finish, she saw Rong already sleeping in his clothes. The feeling was like punching a cotton ball, unable to exert force or find a place to use it.
Rong: What are you mumbling about? What time is it? Aren't you going to sleep? Staying up late is anti-human, okay?
— Headmaster's Office —
"Bang!" The table rattled loudly as Snape pounded it. Sometimes he truly wanted to strangle this Old Bumblebee who pretended to be foolish.
"These five Uchiha are not controllable pawns, Dumbledore! You'd better wake up. Lily is already gone because of your oversight. I don't want to lose her child again because of your arrogance!"
Dumbledore calmly put a lemon sherbet in his mouth, subconsciously wanting to offer one to Snape, but his reason told him it might not be appropriate. So the hand he extended instead supported him as he stood up, walking to the French window to gaze at the moon and act profound.
"Snape, do you know why I didn't let anyone take over Harry, and instead let him suffer at the Dursley's?" Dumbledore turned his head with a smile, the moonlight softly illuminating his profile. "Because he carries Lily's and... Potter's 'love charm'."
Snape was already ready to lash out, but Dumbledore's act instantly left him with no point to fire at. "What are you trying to say?"
Dumbledore finally couldn't maintain his ninety-degree side-waist rotation pose. He turned around completely.
His smile was gone, replaced by a serious expression: "I saw hatred in Rong's eyes—hatred for someone we cannot know. Similarly, outside Ollivander's wand shop, I saw love in his eyes, overflowing love."
Dumbledore couldn't help but recall his own sister, Ariana, who was also an Obscurus.
Snape was astonished: "So you don't investigate their origins, don't delve into the source of Occlumency, and don't even pay special attention to these nominal Obscurus, all because of some illusory love? You are—" Dumbledore stopped him, and at the same time gave him an irrefutable argument:
"You've also been watching Harry because of this illusory love, haven't you?" After a long silence, Snape exited the Headmaster's office. Dumbledore sighed, "Oh... really, making an old man like me lose sleep at night..."
At seven-thirty the next morning, Rong fell out of bed. The sudden pain made him instinctively reach for the ninja tool pouch at his waist. He looked around but only saw Fali's mocking face.
"Tsk, tsk, tsk, doing such things so early in the morning... Mr. Uchiha's hobbies are quite peculiar."
Rong expressed indifference to such jokes, even wanting to laugh: "Can the attack power be higher? It's not as fierce as the thugs I used to encounter."
Prefect Fali seemed to not distinguish between good and bad words: "Hmph, I am from the sacred Twenty-Eight Pure-Blood Families, vastly different from those people you mentioned—" Snape pushed the door open and glanced around. Good, nothing was missing, no one had run off, Fali was respectful, and Uchiha wasn't having a Sharingan flare-up.
"Mr. Uchiha, you seem to have many secrets. Even Dumbledore favors you." Snape gestured for Fali to start working.
Fali understood and began to process the necessary medicinal ingredients. As a newcomer, Rong didn't understand the subtleties in their exchanged glances, so he received a splash of Snape's venom:
"Mr. Uchiha, are you not going to process the ingredients, waiting for me to prepare a Bone-Healing Potion and break your ribs to test its efficacy?" Under the eaves, one must bow their head. Rong quickly went to Fali's side and started processing.
After a night's rest and the nourishment of the Potion, his Chakra could reach 0.01 Card! He immediately activated his Sharingan, gradually observing Fali's movements, and his hands went from unfamiliar to proficient in less than half an hour.
Due to his height, Snape couldn't see Rong, who was looking down, with his Sharingan active. "This child, could he be a genius at Potion-making?" Snape suppressed the desire to nurture talent upon seeing such a promising seedling and quietly left for the breakfast meeting.
"Bring them something to eat back."
Heaven help them, Rong and Fali, who were being treated like slaves, actually got to enjoy breakfast. Truly something to celebrate.
"Hmm? Where's Professor?" After finishing all the ingredients at hand, Rong looked up and saw that Snapehad disappeared. Did he rappel down? In the time it took to turn around, the door was forcefully pushed open.
"Mr. Uchiha, are you spacing out? Learn from Prefect Fali's focus!" The old bat rushed to Rong's side with a ghostly stride. Rong innocently pointed to the processed ingredients. Fali's face had already turned as green as the tender leaves of the Whomping Willow.
Snape was startled by such speed and also noticed Fali's shame. He gently patted Fali's shoulder as a sign of encouragement (at least he thought so), then issued the morning's task: "This morning, you will use these limited materials to create a perfect healing Potion! Fali, give him a demonstration!"
Fali nodded vigorously. This time, she absolutely could not be worse than him!
Two hours later, Rong held up a crystal-clear healing Potion with a pinkish glow, displaying it to Snape.
Fali: I admit you're better than me at Potion-making, but I'm still superior in dueling!
Snape: This child is born for Potions! Dueling is as much a waste as pressing his brain onto a Troll's body!
The old bat no longer cared whether this Uchiha was a usable pawn. He excitedly pressed Rong's shoulder: "Excellent! To achieve this level on your first try, you are the most talented young Wizard in Potions I have ever seen!"
Fali's eyes reddened at the sight, but she stubbornly looked away. "Um, Professor, why don't you first look at Prefect Fali's quality?"
She's about to cry because of your favoritism, you jerk! How can you make your own people shed tears of pain?
Snape finally realized his lapse in judgment, released Rong's shoulder, and offered a slightly appreciative comment on Fali's Potion, expressing his regard for her and painting a picture of future glory... Hmm? CPU rhetoric?
Fali seemed to fall for it, adjusting her mood in an instant and returning to her proud Prefect demeanor.
Snape also informed them of the afternoon's activity—"Practical combat. You two will duel in a confined space.
I will leave the room until one of you knocks on the door and the other is lying on the ground unable to get up. Only then will I open the door to check on your condition, understood?" Snape turned and left. "I'll get you lunch. Likewise, Miss Fali, keep an eye on him."
Rong used the lunch break to observe the differences between the two Potions.
"There's no difference. I don't know how you did it, but you literally plagiarized all my steps," Fali said coldly, arms crossed, but her words were filled with resentment. "Uchiha, I will defeat you. I won't let you take all the honors I've earned through hard work!"
After making her threat, Rong, utterly bewildered, watched Fali, who had a "she's gone and won't ever come back" vibe, walk to the door and stop because she couldn't get out.
"It's alright, Prefect. I can't beat you in a duel, that's a fact." Rong maintained his friendly demeanor. This Prefect, who was currently still a student, had high enough talent. Befriending her now might lead to a powerful ally in the future. "Professor Snape must know this, otherwise he wouldn't personally teach you, right?"
Fali's anger level shot up, and she turned to say something, but was once again interrupted by the sound of the door opening.
"You only have forty minutes to eat, rest, and prepare!"
...Snape was still humane, giving them an extra hour for lunch break. In a flash, it was 12:40. Snape, watched by the two, packed up his valuable Potion collection and exited the door.
"Expelliarmus! Impedimenta!" The moment the wooden door closed, Fali immediately drew her wand and attacked Rong. "Uchiha! I'll let the Professor know that I'm the stronger one!"
Rong's figure flickered, dodging the red light. Seeing a chip in the floor, he couldn't help but ask, "Prefect, is it necessary to use so much force against me? The Professorclearly just wants us to adapt to combat in a confined space."
Fali's hands moved without stopping: "It took me four years to become a Prefect. How much effort did I put in, and how many people dismissed it as 'Fali Family's cultivation'?"
Do you know? You're just a first-year! You haven't experienced anything!" Her wrist flicked, and another spell flew out. "Diffindo! You damned thief! Your strength is nothing but the curse of an Obscurus!"
Dodging the magic again, Rong's Sharingan spun rapidly, and his face grew colder.
"You... are far more ignorant and prejudiced than I imagined..." Rong pulled out a kunai, this time a refined steel one from the The 5·3 Workbook. "You are someone who yearns for power, while I... we, are people who must have power!"
Chapter 24: Resident Private Tutoring
Ron steadied himself, half-kneeling on the ground, and slowly looked up. In the depths of his black eyes, an unmelting coldness and a heavy sorrow accumulated. He slowly stood up straight, the kunai in his hand gleaming with a faint cold light.
"We are the last of the Uchiha." Ron sidestepped a 'Petrificus Totalus' spell that came at him. The cold, gray spell light grazed his left shoulder, bringing an icy stiffness that made his movements falter slightly.
"My family was killed right before my eyes." Ron's voice was not loud, but every word was clear, like an ice pick piercing the dead silence, and beneath the suppressed grief, a bone-deep hatred churned.
"And the one who did it was a genius from our own clan." He suddenly looked up, his scarlet Sharingan locking onto Fali, the tomoe seemingly soaked in blood and tears. "Just as you received the full cultivation of your clan, so did he!" Staring into Fali's eyes, a genjutsu was released in an instant!
Amidst a mountain of corpses and a sea of blood, Fali saw the bodies of her parents, heard the wailing of a neighbor's child, and smelled the air thick with the scent of blood… Fali was seized by this sudden infernal vision, her movements stiffened, and the light at the tip of her wand dimmed slightly.
"Sharingan…" Ron abruptly pointed to his scarlet eye; the genjutsu broke as their gazes disconnected. His voice was laced with intense grief and indignation, and a nearly desperate indifference.
"The eye that reflects the heart, blooming from witnessing the death of loved ones, born steeped in blood and tears! It is power, but even more, it is an unwashable curse in our bloodline! We have no choice!" He bit down hard on the word "curse," like a final accusation.
Fali's face was as pale as paper; the heavy bloodlust and despair in Ron's words chilled her to the bone, and that word "last" struck her like a heavy hammer.
But the shame of having her deepest secrets laid bare and the arrogance offended by the word "curse" instantly surged back: "Shut up! You…"
"Shut up?" Ron's voice suddenly became urgent and clear, carrying a cold, merciless sarcasm that instantly cut her off! His figure, like a ghost in the dust stirred by the residual magic, moved swiftly.
"You resent the 'Fali Family's cultivation' for overshadowing your hard work, yet you revel in and are proud of your 'sacred twenty-eight pure-blood families' status! What ironic hypocrisy!
What are you even?
A pathetic worm whose neck is choked by the family halo, yet who presumes to use that halo to smash the efforts of others! If your power were truly like bedrock, what would you fear from rumors? If your glory truly stemmed from yourself, why would you need ancestral prestige to embolden you?!"
"Shut up!!!" Fali's rationality completely snapped. The furious rage of being hit where it hurt and feeling offended made her eyes bloodshot. Her wand pointed wildly in the direction of Ron's voice: "Confringo!"
A huge explosion and blinding light erupted in the center of the office!
Now!
"Fire Release: Ash Pile Burning!" Chakra rapidly flowed into his mouth!
"Puff—!"
A thick, heavy, acrid, grayish-white smoke violently erupted! It instantly swallowed the light of the explosion and all visibility!
This was even more deceptive in a confined space! Fali's Cyclone Charm had barely begun before it was completely submerged by this Chakra-produced smoke and dust; the gale could only futilely churn a small area.
Just at the peak of the noise created by the Cyclone Charm, a dark figure, like a shadow merged with the smoke itself, darted out like lightning from Fali's double blind spot—both visual and psychological—from a dead corner at her side-rear—
a corner piled high with discarded parchment!
Ron! Utilizing the impact of the explosion, the cover of the smoke and dust, and the noise of the Cyclone Charm as triple concealment, his advance was silent!
He didn't use the sharp edge of his kunai. After just one look, a faint voice, like a soul-reaping demon, came:
"Experience my rage and hatred…"
"Ugh ah—!" Fali felt her chest instantly pierced, as if her sinews had been severed by an invisible blade. Her limbs stiffened, unable to move freely! Her wand flew out of her hand, rolling with a clatter into the thick dust, disappearing from sight.
The dust slowly settled, like a curtain falling. Ron stood before Fali, slightly out of breath, the numbness in his left shoulder still present, but his eyes were as sharp as ever, carrying the afterglow of battle.
Fali clutched her wrist, her face as pale as paper, her body trembling uncontrollably. Her pupils were filled with incredulous horror and immense bewilderment.
She stared blankly at her wand lying silently on the ground, then looked at the young man before her, who seemed to bear the blood feud of an entire hell.
His final genjutsu had made her experience the night of the clan's annihilation firsthand, utterly shattering all her pride, anger, and supporting beliefs with pain and hatred.
That phrase, "no choice," now pressed on her heart like a cold tombstone.
"Bang! Bang! Bang!"
Three clear, forceful knocks, like a final judgment, pierced the silence.
Professor Snape stood at the doorway, expressionless, his black robes seemingly absorbing all light.
His sallow face was frozen, his inscrutable gaze, like the most precise instrument, instantly swept over the chaotic room, Fali's distraught and pale state, and Ron's upright but slightly panting figure.
"Acceptable." Professor Snape's voice was cold and slick, betraying no praise or criticism. "Miss Fali, your emotions are the enemy's best guide.
Anger? That is merely a Troll wielding a club, harming yourself before harming the enemy. Your pride, before true despair, is as fragile as a spider's web."
He precisely struck at the core of Fali's failure, his words as sharp as knives.
His gaze turned to Ron, with deeper scrutiny: "Mr. Uchiha, smoke, dust, daggers of words… a good tactical combination, utilizing environment and human nature. Your strength,"
He paused, his gaze seeming to penetrate skin, seeing the nearly depleted Chakra pathways,
"and that bone-deep 'experience,' make you adept at finding life in the cracks. However,"
He changed his tone, his voice growing colder, "trickery has its limits. Over-reliance on the intuition granted by the 'curse' and those little tricks will only lead to being crushed to dust before an absolute torrent of power."
Ron listened in silence, not refuting. Professor Snape's words, though harsh, were spot-on. The limitation of Chakra was his biggest weakness at the moment.
Professor Snape casually cast a Reparo spell, returning the office to its original state. "Starting next Wednesday," Professor Snape no longer looked at the two, turning to his parchment-laden desk, his voice brooking no argument,
"all day Wednesday. In the morning, Potion workshop, handling ingredients, refining your cauldron skills. In the afternoon," he tilted his head slightly, a cold sneer forming at the corner of his mouth,
"Defense Against the Dark Arts practical. Location, right here, or… more 'interesting' places. I expect to see you alive for Thursday breakfast."
He waved his hand, as if shooing away flies, "Now, clean up. Get out."
Ron and Fali practically fled the office, which was permeated with the smell of Potion, dust, and an invisible pressure.
As the cold air of the corridor rushed into his lungs, Ronfinally felt he could breathe a little, but the heaviness in his heart did not lessen. All day Wednesday… this was practically signing a devil's contract.
—The Next Day—
Even the golden morning light and the aroma of food at breakfast could not dispel the gloom that had weighed on Hermione's heart all day.
She sat at the Gryffindor long table, listlessly prodding an innocent pea with her fork, her gaze magnetically fixed on the Great Hall entrance.
When she finally saw that familiar figure appear at the doorway, though his steps were a bit tired, he seemed unharmed, and her taut shoulders imperceptibly relaxed a fraction.
But the next second, seeing Ron walk towards the Slytherin long table, not even glancing towards Gryffindor, the suppressed unease and resentment, like a shaken soda, burst open its cap!
She slammed her fork down with a "clatter," the force making her plate jump.
Harry and Ron jumped, watching her suddenly stand up, grab the brick-thick book "magic Potions and Potions," and storm out of the Great Hall without looking back, her fluffy curls angrily bouncing behind her.
"She… what's wrong with her?" Ron mumbled, his mouth full of bread.
Harry watched Hermione's retreating figure disappear out the door, then looked at Ron, silently eating at the end of the Slytherin table, and sighed thoughtfully: "I think… she needs an explanation from Ron."
Ron naturally also saw Hermione's angry departure. He rubbed his temples, quickly finished the remaining food on his plate, whispered "I'm going out for a bit" to the silently eating Shiro next to him, then stood up and followed her out.
In the library, Hermione was furiously flipping through pages, making a loud rustling noise, as if the book had a deep-seated grudge against her. Ron walked to her table, but before he could speak.
"Hmph!" Hermione slammed the book shut, making a loud sound that drew Madam Pince's sharp gaze. She glared back fearlessly, then turned her fiery brown eyes to Ron, her voice low but full of gunpowder: "Has the great Mr. Uchiha finally deigned to emerge from Professor Snape's 'private lair'?
It seems Professor Snape's Potions taste good; they didn't poison you speechless, did they?"
Ron looked at her puffed-out cheeks and red-rimmed eyes (he wasn't sure if it was from anger or hurt), knowing she must have spent yesterday in a state of overthinking and anxiety.
He sighed, pulled out a chair, and sat down: "I'm sorry, I made you worry."
"Who worried about you!" Hermione, like a cat whose tail had been stepped on, her voice suddenly rising, then immediately realizing the inappropriate location, shot Ron a fierce glare and lowered her voice, gritting her teeth,
"I just… I just think that some people agreeing to take lessons in that kind of place is even more incomprehensible than Ron's Troll brain! And!"
She remembered the terrifying red light and the dent on the door from the night before, and her eyes grew even redder. "And he actually used such a dangerous spell! What if… what if you hadn't dodged…" She couldn't finish her sentence, just bit her lower lip hard.
"I dodged it," Ron's voice was very soft, with a soothing tone. "See, I'm fine. Professor Snape… he found you listening in last night and deliberately tried to scare you. That spell hit the door."
He paused, then added, "Though his teaching method… is very Professor Snape."
"Teaching?" Hermione scoffed, clearly disbelieving. "Using that kind of method? And yesterday! All day! I… I…"
She wanted to say, "I couldn't find you anywhere, I was so worried," but the words that came out were, "I messed up the index of 'Basic Potion Theory' in the library three times! It's all your fault for not being here to remind me!"
Ron looked at her, clearly worried sick but stubbornly trying to act tough, like a ruffled and aggrieved Miss Chipmunk. The irritation brought on by Fali and Professor Snape suddenly dissipated.
The corners of his mouth couldn't help but turn up slightly.
"What are you laughing at!" Hermione grew even more annoyed, her curls seeming to fluff up even more. "And! Ron was absolutely right! Professor Snape is so mean to Harry, right from the first meeting!
He definitely isn't a good person! And you're learning… learning those dangerous things from him…" She grew angrier as she spoke, mixed with lingering fear. "What if he… he treats you like he treats Harry…"
"He won't." Ron's voice was very calm, yet carried a strange certainty. "He and I… have reached a kind of… a mutually beneficial agreement? He teaches me spells and Potions, and I…"
He carefully chose his words, "…help him test some Potioneffects?" (Like that explosively bad-tasting but effective emerald Potion, and potentially even more terrifying experimental products in the future).
He didn't mention Professor Snape's interest in his "curse" and experiences, as that would only make Hermione more worried.
"Test Potions?!" Hermione's eyes instantly widened, and her voice sharpened. "Are you crazy?! Professor Snape's Potions! Those… those green, bubbling, smelly ones that smell like socks soaked in a gutter for three years…" She clearly recalled some terrible rumors.
"They work very well," Ron quickly interrupted her terrifying associations, trying to reassure her. "Really, you see I'm perfectly fine. And,"
He lowered his voice, with a hint of mystery, "all day Wednesday is his 'private tutoring time.' While it's definitely tormenting, you can learn real things." He deliberately omitted the threat of "living until Thursday breakfast."
Hermione eyed him suspiciously for a long time, seemingly judging whether the Potion had poisoned his brain.
Finally, she let out a heavy huff, reopened the thick book, and buried her face in it, leaving only a puffy, fluffy head facing Ron. Her muffled voice came from behind the pages:
"Whatever! Don't come crying to me if you get poisoned stupid! And… on Wednesday… if you lose an arm or a leg… Madam Pomfrey won't give you a discount!"
Though still angry words, the hint of a sob in her worry seemed to have lessened considerably with this outburst.
Ron looked at the fluffy brown head buried in the book and smiled silently.
Outside the window, moonlight streamed through the tall stained-glass, casting quiet patches of light on the ancient oak long tables.
In the library, only the rustling of turning pages remained, and the subtle movements of a certain Miss Chipmunktrying to compose her breathing. At least for now, the storm had temporarily subsided.
Chapter 25: Neither Transformation nor Flight Works Well
After comforting a ruffled Hermione, Ron finally got through Thursday morning's feast under Miss Chipmunk's rolling eyes.
"Ron, what were you doing all day yesterday?" Uchiha Shiro wolfed down the bread he'd scavenged during breakfast, crumbs clinging to his robes. "Don't tell me, this stuff is way better than military rations!" He narrowed his eyes in satisfaction, as if savoring a delicacy.
Uchiha Rin looked at Cheng, who had strayed from the topic after only half a sentence, with a speechless expression. She put down her milk cup, and her cool voice rang out: "Ron, after the battle the night before last, what were you and Fali taken to do? We followed the instructions to keep a low profile and didn't ask the Professors."
She glanced towards Gryffindor Tower, "That Gryffindorgirl's gaze at dinner last night almost burned through the Slytherin table; she nearly charged over."
Ron was currently flipping through the thick 'A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration,' trying to understand the principle of turning a match into a needle—did it feel a bit like a degraded version of the Transformation Jutsu?
It acted on external objects rather than oneself, and the energy consumption model was completely different. He didn't even lift his head: "I was being specially trained by Snape all day yesterday. I sparred with Fali all day."
Thinking of the foul-tasting Potions, the life-and-death struggle in a confined space, and the old bat's scathing remarks, Ron's temples throbbed faintly.
"Sparring what? Could it be..." Qian pushed up his non-existent glasses, giving a subtle and mischievous look, "Some kind of... 'friendly exchange' that deepened understanding?" His fingertips unconsciously drew circles on the table.
Ron's mouth twitched: "Qian, why are you making jokes like that too...?" He really couldn't connect Fali's face, which was practically screaming "I'm going to tear you apart," with "friendly exchange."
"You never know," Lan's posture was elegant, but her eyes sparkled with a rare hint of teasing. "The Uchiha are like rootless duckweed in this world. What if our brilliant and mighty Chief becomes a live-in son-in-law of the Fali Family and abandons the Uchiha name? What will happen to us few lonely souls then~" She deliberately drew out the last syllable.
"Stop talking nonsense," Ron closed his book impatiently, the pages making a dull thud. "Professor McGonagallmight be here soon. Think about how to deal with Transfiguration. That thing..." He frowned, "feels even more troublesome than hand seals."
Before he finished speaking, a tabby cat silently leaped onto the podium.
It sat there, back straight, emerald green eyes sharp as knives, carrying a dignity completely at odds with a feline's lazy nature. It slowly surveyed the recently seated Slytherin first-years. The classroom instantly fell silent, even Cheng's chewing of bread froze.
The tabby cat gracefully jumped off the podium, and the moment it landed, light and shadow twisted and stretched—Professor McGonagall stood erect at the center of the podium, her gaze behind square spectacles sternly sweeping over everyone, especially Cheng, who was still secretly swallowing breadcrumbs.
"Transfiguration," her voice was like the cold wind of the Scottish Highlands, clear and sharp, "is the most complex and dangerous magic you will learn at Hogwarts. Any horseplay, tomfoolery, or display of Troll-like comprehension in my classroom—"
Her gaze lingered for a moment on Cheng's greasy fingers, "—will bring misfortune to your House and very likely cause you to leave the classroom with certain... permanent souvenirs. Understood?"
"Understood, Professor," came the sparse replies.
"Very good." Professor McGonagall tapped her wand, and matches flew precisely to each student. "Today's goal: to transform a match into a silver needle. Pay attention to the needle's shape, luster, and utility. The incantation is a precise 'Vera Verto.' Begin!"
Immediately, a chorus of uneven incantations filled the classroom. Most of the young snakes appeared nervous and clumsy.
The Uchiha Quartet's performance was a disaster.
Qian's brows were tightly furrowed as he stared at the match before him, as if facing an unsolved sealing jutsu. His lips moved silently, clearly calculating the vector angle of applied magic (energy), the energy threshold required for molecular bond recombination, and the entropy increase during the form transformation process... It was incomprehensible.
His match remained motionless, a wisp of imperceptible blue smoke wafting from its tip, emitting a burnt smell.
Lan's posture remained elegant, and her wand movements had a rhythmic quality, but her incantations seemed to carry a resistance.
The match twitched and contorted before her, sometimes stretching into a limp metallic thread, then shrinking back to its original state. Its tip even bent bizarrely, attempting to curl into a spring, but stubbornly refused to become a straight needle. Her beautiful eyebrows furrowed tighter and tighter.
Rin was the most like an Uchiha.
After two unsuccessful attempts, a flicker of impatience crossed her eyes. She put down her wand, and with a flick of her wrist—a kunai with an extremely sharp edge silently slid into her palm! Under the astonished gazes of Professor McGonagall and the other students, the kunai precisely sliced towards the match head.
"Clink!" A crisp sound, accompanied by sparks, as a small section of the match head was cleanly sliced off, the cut surface smooth. Rin picked up the pitiful matchstick, held it up to the light, and seemed to find its length and thickness roughly close to a needle, only lacking a point and an eye. She expressionlessly pushed her "finished product" forward, her meaning clear: manual Transfiguration was more efficient. Several pure-blood young Wizards gasped.
"Will this girl stab us with that thing...?"
Cheng, meanwhile, completely abandoned the magical approach. He grabbed the match and a brand new broom model (Flying Lessons was in the afternoon) that a hapless classmate had left on the table, moving as nimbly as if disassembling an explosive tag.
His fingers flew as he tried to poke a "suspected energy node" on the broom handle with the matchstick, muttering, "This broken stick definitely isn't something that can fly... I'll take it apart and look at the structure..." The brand new broom handle instantly acquired several deep scratches.
"Stop! All of you, stop!" Professor McGonagall's voice exploded like thunder, filled with shock and fury. She strode quickly from the podium, her high heels tapping a rapid drumbeat on the flagstones.
"Mr. Uchiha Qian!" She first glared at Qian, "Transfigurationis not about deconstructing energy formulas! It is an art of will and magic! Stop your... mental calculations!" Qian sheepishly put down the match.
"Miss Uchiha Lan!" She turned to Lan, looked at the twisted, failed attempt, and took a deep breath. "Elegance cannot replace precision! Concentrate your willpower!"
Her gaze finally landed on Rin and Cheng, so stern it could almost scrape off a layer of ice: "Rin Uchiha! Put away your... dangerous toy immediately! In my classroom, the use of any Muggle weapons for 'assisted Transfiguration' is forbidden!"
She pointed at the severed match, then at Cheng and the battered broom model in his hand, "And you, Cheng Uchiha! Put down Mr. Stre's broom model immediately! Damaging school property, five points from Slytherin!"
The classroom was dead silent. The pure-blood young Wizards looked at the Uchiha Quartet with thinly veiled disdain and mocking "I told you so" expressions. Draco Malfoy even exaggeratedly covered his mouth with his robes, letting out suppressed snickers.
"What are you laughing at? You didn't even dare to go on stage that day!" The young Wizard next to him looked at Malfoy with even deeper contempt; clearly, strength was still very popular in Slytherin.
Ron sighed, and just as Professor McGonagall was about to erupt, he quickly stood up.
He didn't look at the gloating faces, but walked to Professor McGonagall, bowed slightly, and at the same time, subtly opened the 'A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration' that Hermione had forced on him that morning to a crucial page,
He spread it open on the podium, revealing the "Key Points of Willpower Focus" and "Visualization Exercises for Form Imagination" annotated in colored ink by Hermione.
"Professor," Ron's voice was calm, with just the right amount of apology and a hint of helplessness for his clansmen, "I'm very sorry. We... come from a place that emphasizes physical laws and practical skills, and we are still adapting to magic, this... unconventional power system."
He cleverly avoided Professor McGonagall's anger, "Perhaps the methods in this guide... are more in line with their way of understanding? I will urge them to study it carefully and grasp the essence of magic." He pointed to Hermione's delicate handwriting in the book.
Professor McGonagall's stern gaze swept over Ron, then fell on the somewhat worn book, covered with detailed notes (clearly Hermione's handwriting). Her stern expression softened slightly. She recognized the handwriting and understood Ron's intention—to guide the 'underachievers' with the 'overachiever's' methods. She snorted, didn't deduct any more points, but her tone remained cold and hard:
"Adapting? Hogwarts is not a nursery! Mr. Uchiha, control your... companions." Her sharp gaze swept over the four. "If in this afternoon's Flying Lessons, you also try to understand flying brooms with those 'practical skills'—"
She paused, and said meaningfully, "I suggest Madam Pomfrey prepare the Skele-Gro in advance." She remembered Neville's plight, then glanced at the scratched broom model in Cheng's hand, and added, "And, the compensation invoice."
In the afternoon, the sun was just right, and the breeze was gentle—perfect weather for Flying Lessons.
Madam Hooch's booming voice echoed across the lawn: "Stretch out your right hand, place it above your broom, and say: 'Up!'"
"Up!" Harry's broom immediately obediently jumped into his hand. Ron tried a few times and also succeeded. Hermione's broom rolled on the ground, then dutifully rose. Malfoy's broom leaped up as if attracted by a magnet.
Then it was the Uchiha Quartet's turn.
"Up!" Cheng, Qian, Lan, and Rin's voices were either booming or clear.
The four brooms remained motionless, as if welded to the ground.
"Up!" Uchiha Shiro emphasized his tone, with a commanding air.
The broom trembled slightly, as if yawning, then settled back into stillness.
"Up!" Rin's voice carried a hint of Chakra-driven intimidation.
The broom gave a sudden jump, half an inch off the ground, then with a "thud," as if all its strength had been drained, it fell heavily back onto the grass, completely motionless. No matter how the four called, or threatened (Rin even used the handle of her kunai to tap it. Rin: If you don't get up, I'll amputate you with this~), the four brooms remained stubbornly on the ground, as if under a permanent sticking charm.
By the Quidditch pitch not far away, Slytherin QuidditchCaptain Marcus Flint was training with his team. Seeing this scene, he deliberately maneuvered his Nimbus 2000(brand new!) in a beautiful dive and sudden stop, landing steadily next to the Uchiha Quartet, the grass clippings kicked up by the broom's tail splashing onto them.
"Well, well, isn't this our 'talented' new classmate?" Marcus's voice was loud, filled with undisguised malicious mockery. He patted the shining broom handle between his legs, "It seems even brooms understand bloodline hierarchy? They know who deserves to ride and who doesn't?
Can't even do the most basic 'Up,' tsk tsk tsk, truly... not even as good as that idiot Longbottom, at least he can call his broom up!
Want me to teach you how to kneel and beg it? Pure-blood brooms aren't something mudbloods can just touch!" He deliberately raised his voice, ensuring the entire Flying Lessons area could hear. His teammates behind him burst into laughter.
Cheng and Rin's faces instantly darkened, Qian's fingers unconsciously touched his cuff, and Lan's eyes were as cold as ice. Invisible Chakra fluctuations subtly vibrated around them; the air seemed to condense slightly. Insulting the Uchiha bloodline? Are you deliberately looking for trouble?
Madam Hooch sensed the dangerous atmosphere and sharply reprimanded, "Flint! Control your mouth! Get back to training!" But her stern gaze also swept over the four "striking" brooms with a hint of helplessness.
Ron stood a little further away, watching the scene, his brows tightly furrowed. The brooms' rejection of Chakrawas stronger than he had anticipated; this was definitely not just a matter of "talent."
The "medium flying talent" marked in "The 5·3 Workbook" now seemed like a mockery. He touched his pocket, his fingertips brushing against the small cloth bag Hermionehad given him this morning—
Inside were several well-packaged peppermints, and a neatly folded piece of parchment with Hermione's delicate handwriting, detailing a summary of key points from "Flying Brooms: History, Principles, and Common Troubleshooting (Granger's Annotated Edition)."
He sighed. It seemed that to advance the "Human Will" progress, this hurdle of flying had to be overcome. He peeled a peppermint and popped it into his mouth; the cool sweetness spread across his tongue, suppressing the churning anger and worry in his heart.
The afternoon sun was a bit harsh, and Marcus Flint's arrogant laughter in the distance, along with the four lifeless brooms on the ground, formed a unique challenge for the Uchiha in the magical world of Hogwarts.
"How about trying to channel magic?" Harry had appeared sometime without Ron noticing.