Chapter 26 The Birth of a Famous Scene
"Hmm... I think you might not have been using magic, just commanding it," Harry said. "I'm an S-rank player at this. Try injecting magic; maybe that will help?"
Ron was about to thank him and try this seemingly conventional method when Malfoy, ever the provocateur, habitually fanned the flames: "Don't bother, Scarhead! That Uchiha bunch isn't cut out for Flying Lessons!" "Alright, don't try it. The top priority now is to hold back Cheng, who's about to explode..." "Silence! Mr. Malfoy! Do you want to lose points for your house because of this?" Professor Hooch swore she had never seen such an unruly Wizard, so she rebuked him, and Draco sullenly retreated to the side.
Ron wiped non-existent sweat from his forehead and, seeing that Hermione opposite him hadn't managed to lift her broom either, softly cheered, "Go for it!"
"Up!" Strangely, though it was the same word, Hermionesucceeded this time. Miss Chipmunk, quick-witted and mischievous, immediately flashed a peace sign at Ron.
"Stop messing around, Cheng, let's get this thing up first." He suppressed Uchiha Shiro's anger. Fortunately, the others were relatively calm... probably. "Try using [Chakra]! Like Harry said! Up!"
This time, the broom wobbled upwards and finally, he successfully grabbed it.
Ron turned his head and saw that everyone had their own methods: Cheng directly hooked the broom with a wire, while Xian and Lin secretly used Wind Style to blow the broom into their hands. Only Uchiha Lan truly succeeded using Harry's method.
Madam Hooch, seeing that everyone had their brooms, finally told them what to do next.
"Everyone, listen to my command! Grip your broomsticks tightly with your legs, lean forward slightly, and push off the ground—gently! Remember, let the broom lift you, don't jump!"
"Three... two... one!"
"Push!"
Dozens of feet pushed off the soft grass simultaneously.
"Ah—!" Neville Longbottom's terrified scream instantly shattered the practice field's tranquility. His overly sensitive broom, like a startled wild horse, shot straight up into the sky the moment he pushed off!
Neville, like a rag doll caught in a gale, clung desperately to the wildly twisting broomstick, his legs kicking frantically, his face ashen. The broom carried him erratically towards the castle's towering spires!
"Longbottom! Hold on!" Madam Hooch's face changed dramatically, and she sprinted after him, but it was clearly too late!
Just at this critical moment, Neville let go due to extreme fear! His small figure, like a kite with a broken string, plummeted straight down from twenty feet up!
"Wingardium Leviosa!" A clear female voice rang out.
Hermione reacted the fastest, pointing her wand in Neville's direction. A gentle buoyant force tried to cushion his fall, but the distance was too great, and the power dispersed, only slightly slowing his descent.
"Crack!" The sickening sound of bone breaking clearly reached them. Neville landed heavily on the soft grass, his left wrist bent at a very unnatural angle.
He let out a heart-wrenching scream, and large beads of sweat instantly covered his forehead.
"My wrist! Professor! My hand!"
Madam Hooch had already rushed to Neville's side, her face ashen. "Don't move, Mr. Longbottom!"
She quickly examined his injuries with practiced ease. "A broken wrist! I'm taking you to the Hospital Wing!"
She carefully helped up the sobbing Neville, and before leaving, sternly warned everyone: "Due to Miss Granger's quick thinking, Gryffindor will be awarded ten points!
No one is to fly on their own until I return! Put your brooms back where they were! Anyone who disobeys will be expelled!"
A commotion rippled through the crowd as they watched Madam Hooch help Neville hurry away.
The tense atmosphere had not yet dissipated when a silvery object "rolled" to Harry's feet—it was Neville's Remembrall, which had slipped from his hand when he fell, and scarlet smoke was churning inside it.
Draco Malfoy's golden hair was particularly dazzling in the sunlight. He darted forward, picking up the Remembrall before Harry could, a malicious, gloating smile on his face.
"Look at this! A little toy from Longbottom's grandmother? To remind him he can't even sit on his broom properly?" He squeezed the Remembrall, the crimson smoke swirling between his fingers.
"Give it here, Malfoy!" Harry roared, his wand already in his hand.
"Oh? You want it, Scarhead?" Malfoy smugly mounted his Nimbus 2000, hovering effortlessly a few feet off the ground, and dangled the Remembrall from above. "Come and get it! If you can catch me!"
Before he finished speaking, he sharply pressed down on his broomstick, and the Nimbus 2000 let out an excited hum, shooting into the sky like an arrow from a bow!
"Malfoy!" Harry roared, unhesitatingly straddling his own broom and pushing off with all his might! The old training broom responded with astonishing speed, carrying him like a cannonball into the sky, in hot pursuit of Malfoy!
"Harry! Come back!" Hermione stamped her foot in frustration, but she couldn't stop him.
In the air, the two figures, like two entangled swifts, darted, swooped, and turned at high speed.
Malfoy, relying on the superior performance of the Nimbus 2000, constantly toyed with Harry, deliberately flying past him and baiting him with the Remembrall.
Harry, however, displayed astonishing Flying Lessonsinstincts, clinging tightly to Malfoy, making several dangerous close calls that drew gasps from the ground.
"See that?" Malfoy, deftly dodging one of Harry's grabs, swooped over the Uchiha quintet, his voice deliberately amplified, filled with malicious glee, "That's pure-blood Flying Lessons talent! Some people can't even make a broom move, they just break bones like that idiot Longbottom! Or..."
He contemptuously swept his gaze over the few cold faces on the ground, "...use some underhanded tricks to pretend they've picked up their brooms? Mudbloods are Mudbloods, no matter how much you pretend, it won't change the inferiority in your bones!"
"Malfoy!!" Cheng's Chakra fluctuations instantly became wild! This was no longer just provocation; it was a blatant trampling of the Uchiha bloodline!
Ron's eyes completely chilled. He raised his hand, stopping Cheng and Lin's immediate Chakra outburst.
"I'll handle it."
His voice carried a bone-chilling coldness. He made a 'take down' gesture to Xian, then a subtle curve appeared at the corner of his mouth.
Malfoy, still smugly dangling the Remembrall in the air, continued to taunt the relentlessly pursuing Harry: "Keep chasing, Scarhead! Let me show you what real—!"
"Wind Style: Breakthrough." Xian's clear, cold voice softly sounded. With both hands behind his back, he swiftly and discreetly formed hand signs within his sleeves.
A sudden, powerful horizontal gust of air, like an invisible giant palm, slammed into the side of Malfoy's broom! The timing was impeccably precise, just as he relaxed after completing a sharp turn!
"What?!" Malfoy was caught off guard, feeling his broom hit a wall! The Nimbus 2000 instantly lost control, spinning and plummeting crookedly towards the ground! He shrieked in terror, frantically trying to regain balance.
"Expelliarmus!" Lan's wand was raised almost simultaneously, and a precise red light shot towards Malfoy's hand holding the Remembrall! Malfoy's attention was entirely on his out-of-control broom, giving him no time to react, and the Remembrall flew from his grasp!
On the ground, Lin's figure had already ghost-like predicted the landing spot. With a light leap, he steadily caught the falling Remembrall.
And Ron, just as Malfoy's broom was about to make a messy landing, burst forward like a leopard!
Relying purely on the explosive power of his honed Taijutsu, at the moment Malfoy tumbled onto the grass, still dazed and before he could even get up, Ron's foot was already firmly planted on his wand-holding wrist!
"Crack!" A faint sound of bone breaking was swallowed by Malfoy's shrill scream.
"Ah—! My hand! Uchiha! You dare—!"
"Oops~"
"Tarasang—" Malfoy's face was twisted in pain. His other hand struggled to reach for his wand on the ground, his eyes filled with maniacal malice, attempting to utter the first part of a curse in defiance!
Ron's movements were faster than his! He bent down and threw a punch! The movement was simple, swift, and precise, carrying the sharp intensity characteristic of ninja Taijutsu—
Bang! A heavy uppercut slammed into Malfoy's chin, knocking back his unspoken curse and scream simultaneously!
Malfoy's vision went black, and he was sent flying upwards by the impact, several blood-stained teeth mixed with saliva spraying out.
"Everyone heard it, he provoked first, didn't he?" The curve of Ron's mouth grew wider.
Ron gave him no chance to breathe. As Malfoy's body fell, he twisted his body, an aggressive elbow strike like a war hammer slamming into Malfoy's ribs!
"Ugh!" Malfoy's scream turned into a choked grunt, his body arching like a shrimp.
Immediately after, Ron's knee, like a battering ram, drove with all his might into Malfoy's soft abdomen!
"Ough—!" Malfoy's lunch, mixed with bile, spewed out, and he crumpled to the ground like a broken sack, twitching violently, dry-heaving, tears and snot streaming down his face. He couldn't even scream, only letting out painful gasps.
From Malfoy being blown off his broom to being knocked down by Ron's three heavy blows, only a few short tens of seconds passed! When Harry, clutching his broom, landed back on the ground, he saw Malfoy curled up on the ground, a miserable sight like a dying worm.
The Slytherin Quidditch players and Marcus, who had rushed over from a distance, were stunned. After realizing what happened, they drew their wands and charged over: "Stop! Uchiha! How dare you—!"
"Everyone, stop right there!" Ron suddenly turned and roared. He had, at some point, gripped the obsidian snake-shaped Prefect badge in his hand and held it high!
The obsidian refracted majestic light in the sunlight, and the emerald eyes of the snake stared fixedly at the charging older students.
"According to the Slytherin Dungeon bulletin board rules, the Prefect has the right to maintain order in public areas and manage the behavior of younger students!"
Ron's voice was not loud, but it carried an undeniable authority, overriding the Quidditch players' angry shouts.
His gaze swept over the disfigured Malfoy on the ground, then coldly looked at Marcus and the others:
"Draco Malfoy, a first-year student. His actions include: One, openly humiliating, provoking, and attempting to attack fellow students from his own house and other houses with curses (pointing to Harry and Neville);
Two, severely violating Professor's instructions during Flying Lessons, taking off without permission and endangering the safety of others (Neville's accident is directly related to his provocation);
Three, using highly insulting and bloodline-discriminatory terms (Mudblood), deliberately undermining house unity, with extremely egregious circumstances!"
With each point Ron made, his voice grew colder, and the foot on Malfoy's wrist pressed slightly harder, eliciting another pig-like wail from beneath him.
He stared at the ashen-faced Marcus: "As a first-year Prefect, I have the right to intervene on the spot and… necessary disciplinary action against such blatant disregard for rules, damage to house honor, and endangerment of fellow students' safety! To serve as a warning!
What, Captain Flint, do you want to question the Dungeon's rules? Or do you want to shield this idiot who is disgracing Slytherin?"
Marcus and the players behind him were silenced by Ron's accusations of "upholding rules" and "house honor," especially the badge in Ron's hand, symbolizing the underground monarchy, which made them hesitant to act.
Marcus's face turned liver-purple, and the veins on his wand-holding hand bulged, but he ultimately didn't dare to make a move.
Just then, Lin calmly walked up to Harry and handed him the Remembrall, which was still swirling with red mist. "Your friend's."
Harry dazedly took the Remembrall, looked at the gruesome sight of Malfoy on the ground, then at Ron, who stood in front of him with a stern face, holding the badge, and the four Uchiha clan members behind him, like black bedrock. An indescribable warmth dispelled the anger and tension from earlier.
Ron was even more flushed with excitement. Seeing Malfoy's miserable state, he almost wanted to rush up and give Ron a hug!
"Well done!" Ron couldn't help but cheer softly, his eyes filled with admiration for Ron. "That was so satisfying! That bastard deserved it!"
Harry also nodded vigorously, his gaze towards Ron filled with sincere gratitude and a sense of finding a reliable ally.
At this moment, the humiliation and anger brought by Malfoy vanished in the face of the Uchiha quintet's thunderous actions and Ron's resounding "rules."
[Humanity's Wish Unlock Progress: 100%]
[Key Affiliates: Hermione Granger, Harry Potter, Ron Weasley Bond Certification Complete]
[Reward Granted: origin of heavenly power Fully Analyzed—
Fragment of Destiny: Professor Quirrell's back of the head is shrouded in ominous black mist]
The words appeared in Ron's mind, accompanied by a sense of relief, as if some kind of shackles had been completely broken.
At the same time, an extremely bizarre fragmented image flashed: beneath Professor Quirrell's tightly wrapped purple turban, a blurry, twisted, pained human face seemed to writhe, emanating a chilling and dark aura that made one's heart palpitate.
Ron's fingers tightened slightly around the badge. Back of the head... black mist... Quirrell? Hmm... well, he couldn't remember anything.
"Ron!" Hermione ran over, panting, her small face flushed from the exertion, her eyes still showing lingering shock and fear.
She didn't even glance at Malfoy on the ground, rushing directly to Ron, pulling out a bulging, dark green silk pouch—larger than usual—and unceremoniously slapping it against his chest.
"Honestly, fighting again! You haven't changed since you were little!" She spoke rapidly, with an undeniable tone, as if trying to conceal something. "Candy, double mint! For alertness... to calm your nerves... for disinfection... whatever you want!"
Her gaze quickly swept over Ron's knuckles (which were a bit red) and the boot on Malfoy's wrist, her voice lowering, carrying a hint of barely perceptible excitement... excitement? "Hmm, next time don't be so... reckless."
From the highest tower window of the castle, Dumbledoreput down his lemon sherbet. A deep light flashed in his sapphire eyes behind his half-moon spectacles.
He watched the black-haired boy on the grass, surrounded by his companions, looking down at the telescope and candy bag in his hand.
He then glanced at the wailing Malfoy on the ground and the furious but hesitant Marcus in the distance, a meaningful curve forming on his lips.
"The threads of fate have begun to intertwine..." he murmured to himself, his gaze seemingly piercing through the castle's stone walls, landing in the direction of a classroom permeated with the smell of garlic and... a faint, elusive dark aura.
"Hmm, garlic just isn't as good as lemon sherbet."
(I accidentally wrote too much, so I won't split it up.)
Chapter 27: Fali's Home Service
The uproar and ferocity of Flying Lessons seemed to be swallowed by the deep waters of the Black Lake.
At dinner, the Slytherin long table was shrouded in a strange, low pressure. The food was as abundant as ever, but the crisp clinking of silverware was much sparser than usual.
Gaze after gaze—awe, wariness, scrutiny—like cold spider silk, silently wrapped around the five silent, black-haired figures eating at the end of the long table, especially Uchiha Rong, who sat in the center.
Malfoy's miserable state as he was carried to the Hospital Wing was still vivid in everyone's minds.
And the instigator, the first-year Prefect, was now calmly eating, his expression so serene it was as if he had merely brushed away a speck of dust.
No one dared to approach them. The Slytherins tacitly left an invisible "zone of reverence" around the five Uchiha. Dinner ended in a near-frozen silence.
— Evening break, Slytherin Common Room.
The Black Lake's gloomy shimmer danced on the dark green carpet. The fireplace crackled, but couldn't dispel the Dungeons's chill. The five Uchiha occupied a corner by the fireplace with an open view.
Rong leaned back in a high-backed chair, a block of oak in his hand being precisely carved by a kunai, wood shavings falling like snow. This familiar action allowed his chaotic thoughts to settle—fragments of the bizarre black mist on Quirrell's occiput still lingered in his mind.
Cheng sat cross-legged, playing with the victorious iron wire, mimicking throwing sounds with "whoosh, whoosh," a look of delight on his face. Rin wiped his steel kunai, a cold glint flashing, his cold gaze sweeping over his cowering classmates.
Lan held "Basic Principles of Charms," his eyes unfocused, no different from dozing off in class. Xian, meanwhile, was immersed in healing arts, faint, luminous green Chakraswirling around his fingertips, infusing practice moon-grass leaves, oblivious to his surroundings.
The Common Room was not silent. Other Slytherins gathered at a distance, discussing the day's storm and the five in the corner in hushed tones, awe and fear intertwined. No one dared to step into that invisible circle.
Until—
The stone wall at the Common Room entrance slid open silently.
Gemma Fali, also known as Prefect Fali, walked in. She wore a dark green uniform, her brown hair meticulously tied back.
Her lips were tightly pressed, and deep within her sharp eyes surged extremely complex emotions: struggle, unwillingness, a battle intent forcibly suppressed, and... a hint of almost desperate scrutiny. Her steps were no longer her usual composed confidence, appearing heavy.
Her appearance instantly sucked away all sound, leaving only the fireplace's crackle and Rong's wood-carving rustle.
Fali's gaze pierced through the crowd, locking onto Rong in the corner. Ignoring the surrounding astonishment, she walked directly towards that "isolation zone." The sound of her high heels clicking on the stone floor was particularly grating in the dead silence; each step seemed to tread on the Slytherins' taut nerves.
Cheng stopped playing with the wire, Rin paused her wiping, Lan put down his book, and the green light at Xian's fingertips extinguished. Four pairs of black eyes coolly scrutinized Fali as she approached.
Rong's hand movements did not stop. He didn't even look up, his gaze focused on the gradually forming wooden kunai, though the rhythm of his carving seemed to become slower and more deliberate.
Fali stopped three steps away from Rong. She could clearly see Rong's downcast eyelashes, the real kunai glinting coldly between his fingers, and the sacrificial-like wood shavings at his feet. An invisible pressure made her breath catch.
She took a deep breath, considering her words. Under dozens of gazes, shocked to the point of splitting, Faliraised her hand—not her wand, but the ancient ring on the middle finger of her left hand.
A coiled silver snake, its eyes set with tiny emeralds—the official Slytherin Prefect's symbol, the "Silver Serpent Ring."
That represented authority second only to the Head of House within the house: commanding all Slytherins in emergencies, free access to the Head of House's office, deploying emergency supplies, and managing the Quidditch team.
Fali's fingers trembled slightly, but her movements were exceptionally firm. She forcefully, pulled off the "Silver Serpent Ring," that symbol of Slytherin's highest student authority, from her finger!
The entire Common Room was as if collectively petrified! Breathing stopped, eyes wide! Pansy's feather fan clattered to the floor. Marcus Flint, who had just entered, froze in his tracks, the color drained from his face, leaving only an incredulous horror!
"What is she doing?" Only Young Master Malfoy, clueless, was still recalling the pain from earlier in the day.
Fali ignored the gazes that could pierce her. She took a step forward, bent down, and gently placed the warm Silver Serpent Ring on the small round table in front of Rong, which was piled with wood shavings.
"Clink."
The ring landed on the wood shavings, its crisp sound like thunder in the dead silence!
Immediately after, Fali's voice was clear, calm, yet loud enough for the entire Common Room to hear, each word like a falling ice bead:
"This is the'Silver Serpent Ring' of the official Prefect. With it, you can command all Slytherins in an emergency, including the Quidditch team.
Free access to Professor Snape's office, no password needed.
Access to the Common Room's emergency reserves." She paused, her gaze sweeping over the wooden kunai in Rong's hand, her voice low,
"...and all permissions under my name. As... an apology for the previous offense, and a thank you for your defense of Slytherin's... overall interests today."
"Overall interests" was said with difficulty. It clearly referred to Rong using "rules" and violence to prevent Malfoy from dragging Slytherin into deeper trouble.
After speaking, Fali straightened up, no longer looking at the ring, nor at Rong, as if shedding a heavy burden and breaking free from shackles. She nodded very slightly in Rong's direction—a ceremonial handover.
Then she turned, straightened her back, and, under the baptism of countless shocked, puzzled, and disdainful gazes, walked out with stiff but resolute steps, not looking at anyone else.
"Stop her when she goes out." Lan nodded, following Faliout of the stone door.
The dead silence lasted for ten seconds.
"Boom—!" The Common Room exploded!
"Merlin! Prefect Fali gave the Silver Serpent Ring to... him?!"
"Is she crazy?! That's the Prefect's token!"
"Command all? Free access to the Head of House's office? What on earth did she..."
"...What did he do to Fali?!"
"Wednesday! At Professor Snape's! Something must have happened!"
"An Unforgivable Curse? Did he use... to control Fali?!"
"Shh—! Do you want to die?!"
Waves of horror boiled! The gazes completely transformed: disbelief, deep wariness, and the shudder of facing an unknown terror!
Gemma Fali, a fifth-year official Prefect, the acknowledged strongest in Slytherin (before Rong appeared), a rebel of the Fali Family, actually bowed to an "Obscurus" first-year!
She handed over the highest authority in such a complete, humiliating, and order-subversioning manner! This was more shocking than beating Malfoy a hundred times! It shattered Slytherin's foundation of pure-blood supremacy!
Marcus's face was ashen, his fists clenched, rattling, as he stared at the ring glinting in the wood shavings, his eyes venomous yet powerless.
Fali's action undoubtedly trampled on the Fali Family's face and his own prestige as the strongest contender for the former Prefect position!
Cheng and Rin looked at the ring and Rong in astonishment, "Rong, did you really... have a deep conversation with her?"
Rong, who had just created a powerful aura, stumbled, almost falling to the ground, and his aura instantly collapsed.
"Don't talk nonsense. If you keep talking nonsense, I'll give you a Leaf Village Secret Finger Jutsu: A Thousand Years of Death with this thing." Although he didn't know what that was, seeing Rong's dangerous eyes, Cheng decided to shut up for a minute.
Xian pushed up his non-existent glasses, muttering venomously: "Acute stress reaction accompanied by cognitive restructuring... Wednesday's 'guidance' was remarkably effective." He was referring to the battle where Fali's core beliefs were utterly shattered by the clan extermination genjutsu and the heart-piercing words.
Rong finally stopped carving wood. He put down the kunai and the woodblock, his fingertips stained with fresh wood shavings. Slowly, he looked up, his black eyes as deep as a dark pool, calmly gazing at the silver serpent ring lying in the wood shavings on the table.
The emerald eyes of the snake glowed faintly in the firelight, watching coldly like a living creature.
He didn't pick it up. His wood-stained finger reached out, gently caressing the ring's cold silver serpent body. His movement carried scrutiny and assessment.
The Common Room's clamor strangely subsided the moment he looked up, everyone holding their breath, as if the ring was connected to Slytherin's fate.
The stone door opened, and Fali and Lan returned to the fireplace together. "What? Is my gift not heavy enough?"
Rong's gaze shifted from the ring, swept over the faces twisted with shock, and finally settled on Fali. The corner of his mouth twitched upward ever so slightly, not in triumph, but with a knowing, almost cold clarity.
"Prefect Fali," Rong's voice was not loud, but it clearly cut through the lingering noise, carrying the calm and insight characteristic of the Uchiha Chief, "Your 'gift' is very heavy." His fingertip tapped the ring on the table, and the silver band swayed slightly in the wood shavings.
"Slytherin's rules are written in the ripples of the Black Lake," he continued, his gaze sweeping over the ashen faces of Marcus and others, "Prefect authority is seized by strength, and transferred through challenge."
He shook his head slightly, his movement conveying an undeniable negation, "This ring, if worn on my hand now, would be without proper title or justification. It would only cause more chaos among the snakes in the Dungeons, and... trouble for Captain Flint and his team."
He deliberately mentioned "Captain Flint" and "trouble," causing Marcus's face to twitch.
Rong's words precisely hit the core contradiction of Slytherin's belief in "strength above all" and "rules and order."
He rejected the highest title that was within easy reach, but pointed out the consequences of accepting it—chaos and insubordination, which was precisely the whirlpool of trouble Fali wanted to escape.
"I have received your apology and gratitude," Rong's gaze returned to Fali, as if he could see through her to the stubborn Fali who yearned for power, "They are more substantial than this cold metal." This was an acknowledgment of Fali's rational choice, and a respect for the power she represented.
He changed tack, his finger leaving the ring to gently tap the table: "However, in Professor Snape's Potionworkshop, there are some ingredients... Before the next 'Wednesday training,' I need to prepare them in advance. Free access, then, would be a good 'key'."
He didn't want the crown, but he wanted the key to unlock the treasure! A practical, specific, and mutually understood request—to share this power-based authority.
"The ring, it's better to return it to its rightful owner," Rong said finally, his tone as nonchalant as if discussing the return of a quill, "Slytherin's Prefect still needs someone... familiar with the rules to wear it steadily."
He implied that Fali was still the best enforcer of the rules, while simultaneously re-anchoring the "Prefect" identity on her, giving her a dignified way out.
With that, Rong flicked the ring back to Fali. As Faliwatched with a complex expression, he picked up the woodblock and kunai again, as if he had just dealt with a trivial matter. The rustle of wood carving resumed, carrying a composure of being in control of the whole situation.
"Why are you acting..." Rong casually used the woodblock to hit Uchiha Shiro. Hmm, mischievous kids should be disciplined.
Xian's lips curved almost imperceptibly, and he whispered, "Precise political cutting... The Chief is indeed the Chief."
Cheng scratched his head; although he didn't fully understand everything, he felt Rong must be right. Rin put away his kunai and closed his eyes to rest. Lan picked up his book again, as if nothing had happened.
The entire Common Room once again fell into an eerie silence. The shock had not subsided, but a deeper wariness and confusion had been added.
This Uchiha Rong... He refused the highest authority that was within easy reach, casually defused a potential storm, and still left Fali owing him a specific favor, while preserving her status? What exactly did he want?
Marcus's tense body relaxed slightly, but his gaze towards Rong became even more complex. The ring still lay in the wood shavings, like a red-hot branding iron.
New authority had quietly fallen into his pocket in another form, and Fali finally collected her gaze.
"Perhaps, you will be the most perfect rising star of the magic world." Fali put the Silver Serpent Ring back on, her steps regaining confidence as she headed out.
"I accept your goodwill, Uchiha Rong."
Chapter 28: Galleons? What is that?
Time flew as fast as Professor Snape's spells. More than a month had passed since their arrival at Hogwarts, and Rong finally discovered a major problem.
"You mean Dumbledore came to see each of us before school started, but he never took us to Gringotts or anywhere else to exchange money? Not even a single Galleon?" Rong's hand, clutching his Prefect badge, began to tremble.
Cheng finally stopped gnawing on that cursed bread and switched to a new favorite—tacos: "Galleons—(chew chew chew)—what—(chew chew chew)—are those? (chew chew chew)"
"Stop eating, Xian San," Lan snapped, piercing the taco with a kunai. "Can't you see Rong is about to kill you a thousand times over?" After Rong's explanation, this Konoha secret taijutsu finally reached a consensus within the Uchiha clan.
"NO—my taco…" Cheng's face turned ashen. Just looking at him was enough for the other four to deduct enough House Points from Hogwarts to build a new three-bedroom, one-living-room dormitory.
"Forget him, he's always like this," Xian said, calming Lan's raised wooden stick.
"Let's hear Rong's thoughts first." Lan snorted and said no more, her gaze fixed on the jasmine buds on the windowsill, about to bloom. Only Lin silently handed Cheng another taco.
"This means that all our expenses so far have been paid by Dumbledore. He probably only has one reason for doing this," Rong slammed the badge onto the table, "co-optation, favor, utilization."
"What are you mumbling about? Isn't it good that someone is paying for us?" Lan finally couldn't help but give him a smack on the head, "Don't you understand that he who takes the bribe is obliged? You'd best stop eating tacos, or your brain will turn into a taco!"
"Don't say that, he doesn't have much of a brain to begin with." Rong selectively ignored Cheng's "Why are you saying that too?" look and continued with his point:
"We need to make one thing clear to Dumbledore: the Uchiha will not threaten his position or plans; in fact, we can be an asset. The premise is win-win cooperation, not being pawns to be ordered around!"
"Makes sense!" Cheng, comforted by Lin, quickly returned to his normal Xian San state. "But I have one question, which I hope Mr. Rong can explain."
"Speak."
"Why bring it up suddenly?"
"Uh… of course, it's because we haven't spent a single penny all these days!" This excuse clearly couldn't fool the four. "Alright. Hermione's birthday is September 19th…"
Meeting the teasing glances of the three, Rong ultimately scratched his face in embarrassment.
Cheng, however, was as straightforward as ever, pointing to the owl calendar on October 14th.
"Isn't Halloween almost here? Isn't it a bit too outrageous to give her a birthday present now? Can she even change her own birthday?"
And so, the three's teasing turned into three's speechlessness and one's helpless forehead-slap.
"Cheng, promise me, next time, don't speak rashly before Rong finishes talking," Lin said seriously, patting Uchiha Shiro's shoulder.
"All in all, I want to give her a birthday present on Halloween night."
Everyone returned to the teasing Rong camp, with Xian, the sharp-tongued one, starting the battle: "Oh~ So UchihaHermione Granger Rong doesn't care about his poor, penniless clansmen, but is only single-mindedly trying to get money to buy a birthday present?
How heartbreaking~" She even dabbed at non-existent tears with a tissue.
"...Didn't you used to prepare birthday presents for your younger siblings?" This single question brought up everyone's sad memories, and a silence fell for a moment.
"Rong, you know me, we've been neighbors since childhood, and I'm an only child." The speechless glances returned to Cheng.
"Well, no matter what, no money is absolutely impossible! I'll go talk to Dumbledore and have him take us to exchange for some currency usable in the Wizarding World!"
Lan interrupted Rong's movement to leave: "Why bother? Have you forgotten? Fali is from the Fali Family, and you did her such a huge favor. Do you really need anyone else?"
—Prefect's Bathroom—
"...That's roughly how it is. Prefect Fali, I imagine the Silver Serpent Ring should be worth quite a bit, shouldn't it?"
Rong hid his personal motives, only informing Fali of Dumbledore's true intentions.
It was hard to imagine what kind of anxious mood Fali was in as she listened to this financial plea from the Uchiha.
"...Is that all?" Fali still replied with a hint of speechlessness. "Firstly, a Prefect gets a personal reward, roughly ten Galleons per school year. As a Prefect, I can directly allocate this—aren't you suddenly regretting not taking it?"
Uchiha Rong's right eyelid began to twitch uncontrollably. "You mean, this sum of money, as long as no Prefectdemands it, a Prefect can use it freely?" Fali slowly but genuinely curved her lips into a smile under Rong's blank stare. "Yes."
Rong: I feel like I lost a hundred million. (Collapses)
Fali: Hahahahaha, this damned Sharingan user actually has such a day hahahaha!! (Laughs herself unconscious)
"Ahem... Secondly, as a future contender for power in the Fali Family, I can have personal investments and expenses."
Fali lifted the coffee on the table and took a small sip, seemingly to hide her amusement. "Which means, I can use 'investment' as a way to provide you and your clansmen with sufficient funds."
"What's the purpose?" Rong was very reluctant to admit that he had made a huge mistake regarding money, but now was clearly not the time for regret. "It can't be that you're just giving me this money for development, can it?"
"Of course—not possible." Fali put down her cup, her eyes burning bright. "I need your friendship. More precisely, your friendship."
She stood up from her chair and looked out the window. "You are very strong, so strong that I cannot say I will still be stronger than you a year from now. And I need some powerful assistance to help me secure the position of head of the Fali Family at a critical moment.
That person, I'd rather it be you."
Fali suddenly turned back, a fire burning in her eyes. "Every contender for power cultivates their own base. I never thought much of it before.
But now, I believe gaining the Uchiha family's assistance will make it easier to cross this threshold. What do you say?"
"One hundred Galleons per semester, happy cooperation." Rong offered what he considered a bold asking price. But Fali waved her hand.
"Three hundred Galleons per semester. Fifty Galleons for each of your clansmen, and you, my friend, you are worth a hundred."
Fali played the part of being wealthy and powerful very well. Her slender hand extended an olive branch, waiting for the other party to consider. (Rong: Did I open too low?)
"A good bargaining chip, Fali." Rong smiled, indicating his affirmation. But holding that Prefect badge, a symbol of "expensive lessons," he felt it was heavier than any brick at that moment.
Fali's words, "ten Galleons per school year" and "can be used freely," replayed in his mind like a spell, each syllable precisely striking his nerves, which were throbbing from his "strategic error."
"The 5·3 Workbook" flashed a small line of text at the opportune moment:
[Economic Strategy: D-rank (requires remedial classes)]
Rong, poker-faced, internally OS-ed: Shut up, anti-human scroll!
"But 'friendship' and 'taking sides' are two different things. The Uchiha will not become anyone's subordinate or enforcer; that is the bottom line.
Our 'friendship' means that during your 'reasonable' process of contending for power within the Fali Family, we will not become an obstacle to you, and we will provide the 'assistance' you need, within our capabilities, without violating our own principles and interests.
For example, removing certain overly dirty stumbling blocks, or providing a little… 'deterrence' during crucial negotiations." His fingers unconsciously caressed the cold serpent pattern on the badge, hinting at the thunderous methods displayed on the Quidditch pitch and during Flying Lessons.
"As for how to specifically define 'reasonable' and 'without violating,' we can negotiate before each action. How about it?"
The flame in Fali's eyes flickered. Rong's response neither blindly accepted her overture nor completely rejected her investment; instead, he drew clear boundaries, emphasizing the Uchiha's independence and the principle of "equivalent exchange."
This was trickier than the direct cooperation or further demands she had anticipated, but it also better matched her expectations for a "dangerous ally"—strong enough, clear-headed enough.
"Very fair, Uchiha Rong." Fali reined in her overly exposed ambition, nodded slightly, and resumed the Prefect's composure,
"I have received your principles. So, this 'friendship,' based on mutual benefit and limited trust, takes effect from this moment."
She took a heavy, dark green velvet money bag from her desk drawer and pushed it across to Rong. "Here is the first semester's share, three hundred Galleons. Would you like to count it?"
Rong didn't touch the money bag, merely glancing at its bulging shape. "I trust the credibility of the future heir of the Fali Family."
He stood up, emphasizing the words "future heir," his eyes carrying an emotion Fali couldn't decipher (Rong: Why do Slytherin people all like green things so much?).
"Funds are in place, happy cooperation. As for the specific form of 'assistance'…" A faint smile curved his lips, "When your 'stumbling blocks' appear, we can discuss how to make them disappear reasonably. Goodbye, Fali."
Fali watched Rong's tall figure, imbued with a ninja's characteristic vigilance, disappear beyond the stone door, her fingers gently tapping the table. Three hundred Galleons?
No, this was more like seed money invested in a "future nuclear weapon." She picked up her slightly cool coffee and murmured to herself, "Uchiha Rong… how much of a storm can you truly stir up, to set the Uchiha ship sailing, indeed…"
She shook her head, a flicker of genuine interest in her eyes. Compared to a mere enforcer, an "ally" with terrifying power, a clear mind, and a weakness (like Hermione Granger), was clearly more interesting, and more… worth anticipating.
—Slytherin Common Room—
When Rong returned with the heavy velvet money bag, four pairs of eyes focused on his hand, even Cheng temporarily forgetting his tacos.
"Settled?" Lan raised an eyebrow, her gaze as sharp as a scalpel, as if to cut open the money bag and see the terms of the deal inside.
"Mm." Rong casually tossed the money bag onto the small, sawdust-covered round table, producing a pleasant clinking of metal. "Fifty Galleons each, help yourselves."
He pointed to the money bag, then added, "Fali's investment. The condition is to become her 'deterrent assistance' in the Fali Family's internal struggle, under the premise of 'reasonable and not violating principles.'"
Xian immediately picked up the money bag and weighed it, his sharp tongue coming online: "Three hundred Galleons for five people's occasional help for one semester? Rong, you didn't really have a deep conversation with Fali, did you?"
Before Rong could flare up, he quickly poured out the glittering Galleons and began to precisely divide them into five portions. "Even a fly's leg is meat, especially after Dumbledore 'kept us' for over a month.
Chief, your share?" He pushed out a small pile of noticeably more gold coins.
"One hundred." Rong said concisely, taking his share. The heavy weight provided a small comfort to his soul, wounded by the "Prefect stipend."
He carefully put the gold coins into his inner pocket, his mind already rapidly calculating a shopping list for Diagon Alley.
"Rong! You can't sell yourself for money!!" Cheng blurted out, and Rong's gaze grew more dangerous.
Cheng quickly picked up his fifty Galleons, nervously examining them in the firelight from the fireplace. "Oh, this money is real money! How many tacos can this buy? Can they put double chili sauce?…" No one paid attention to the Taco Sage anymore.
Lin silently put away her gold coins, only asking one question: "'Deterrence,' to what extent?" Her hand instinctively rested on the handle of her kunai. For her, if she took the money, she had to be ready to act.
Lan, meanwhile, picked up a gold coin, twirling it between her fingers with a playful smile. "'Reasonable and not violating principles'? Rong, you've painted her a very clever picture.
It seems Wednesday's Potion wasn't for nothing; Professor Snape's 'guidance' has improved your bargaining skills." She looked at Rong meaningfully.
Rong rubbed his forehead, giving Lan an annoyed glare. "This is called strategic cooperation, understand? Strategic! It's better than being leashed by Dumbledore with Galleons."
He paused, remembering the "original intention" of this trip, a rare hint of embarrassment appearing on his face. "Um… now that we have money, before Halloween, we need to go to Diagon Alley. To get Hermione a belated birthday present. Do you… have any suggestions?"
"Cough—" Cheng almost choked on his spit. "You're really still thinking about that!"
Xian pushed up his non-existent glasses: "According to 'Hogwarts: A History' and the Diagon Alley shop directory, combined with Miss Hermione Granger's known preferences, I suggest purchasing: a limited edition Ancient Runes dictionary, an upgraded Quick-Notes Quill, or… a copy of 'How to Live Peacefully with Your Ninja Friends and Avoid Their Bankruptcy'?"
Lin said concisely: "Kunai maintenance kit. Practical." Well, playing it cool while joking was indeed intimidating.
Lan elegantly put down her gold coins, revealing a smile that sent shivers down Rong's spine: "Perhaps… a magical hair care set that can keep hair smooth and shiny for twelve hours in the library?
After all, a certain someone often causes that young lady to become so anxious she practically explodes." She accurately hit Hermione's pain point (and cute point).
Rong: …He felt that taking this group of people to choose a gift might be a disaster.
He began to seriously consider acting alone.
Chapter 29: Against Old Beeden
"Speaking of which, how should we handle the Headmaster?" Xian, for once, didn't continue her sarcastic jabs and instead brought up the main topic.
"Tomorrow, I will go to the Headmaster's office to handle it." Rong put away his own Galleon and disappeared into the deep shadows of Slytherin.
— The Next Day —
The Headmaster's office door silently closed behind Rong, cutting off the hum of the spiral staircase.
The room was filled with a peculiar mix of scents: overly sweet lemon sherbet, old parchment, the warm fragrance of Phoenix tail feathers, and a faint, almost imperceptible… caramel pudding smell?
This overly cozy atmosphere made Rong, who was accustomed to the cold dampness of the Dungeons and the bitter wormwood scent of Potions, feel a bit uncomfortable.
Dumbledore sat behind a large desk, his azure eyes behind his half-moon spectacles holding a… Rong couldn't quite describe it, a gentle scrutiny, like looking at a group of cubs in his backyard who had just discovered a honey pot and were figuring out how to open it.
Fawkes gently preened his feathers on his gilded perch, letting out soft chirps.
"Ah, Mr. Uchiha, please sit." Dumbledore smiled and pointed to a plate of crawling cockroach clusters on the table. "Care for one? They can cheer you up."
"No, thank you, Professor." Rong politely but firmly refused. Who would like cockroaches crawling on their tongue?
"What a pity." Dumbledore picked one up himself, happily popped it into his mouth, and let out a satisfied sigh. "Well then, I assume you've come to see me about this?"
He pulled open a desk drawer and took out an ancient-looking brass key, gleaming with the cold light of Goblincraftsmanship, and gently pushed it towards Rong.
"The Gringotts vault key. It contains enough Galleons for the five of you to comfortably spend seven years at Hogwarts. I had originally intended to give it to you at a more suitable time, perhaps Christmas?
Or when you were more familiar with the magical world's currency system." His tone carried a hint of elder-like apology, as if he had merely forgotten to give pocket money to new boarders.
Rong's gaze fell on the key; its cold metallic sheen seemed to reflect Prefect Fali's heavy, dark green money pouch. He took a deep breath and gently pushed the key back.
"Thank you very much for your generosity, Headmaster." Rong's voice remained steady, carrying the calm characteristic of the Uchiha. "However, we have already resolved… hmm, the 'urgent need.'
Prefect Fali made a friendly investment in us." He deliberately emphasized "friendly" and "investment."
Dumbledore's eyebrows rose in surprise, like two silvery crescents. "Oh? Gemma Fali? Well, that is… unexpected, yet perfectly logical."
The smile in his eyes deepened, filled with the pure satisfaction of seeing the younger generation solve their own problems.
"That child has good foresight and courage. It seems you are getting along well?" He showed no intention of inquiring about the investment details, as if it were as natural as children exchanging sweets.
"A cooperation based on mutual benefit, Professor." Rong answered cautiously, avoiding the overly complex word "friendship." He didn't want Dumbledore to think the Uchiha had been easily swayed by any party.
"Mutual benefit… a very good phrase." Dumbledorenodded, as if savoring the meaning of the words. "Cooperation is always better than confrontation, especially in such… peculiar times."
He changed the subject, the elder's gentleness in his tone settling down, tinged with a subtle heaviness. "Rong, I must tell you something. This concerns Hogwarts, and it concerns yourselves."
His long fingers tapped lightly on the desk. The silver mist at the edge of the Pensieve silently churned, but it did not project any specific images, only emitted a hazy glow.
"Professor Quirrell," Dumbledore's voice deepened, "his back of the head… is shrouded in an extremely ominous Dark Arts aura. It is a darkness that is etched into my memory."
His azure eyes, through his spectacles, looked directly into Rong's calm black eyes, filled with pure worry, not a test. "Very dark, very dangerous.
It clings like a maggot, parasitic on Quirinus. I suspect… it, or rather 'he,' is targeting something protected deep within the castle."
Rong's pupils suddenly contracted! The dark mist at the back of Professor Quirrell's head! The vague fragmented image from "The 5·3 Workbook" instantly became clear and chilling!
The clue from origin of heavenly power pointed to… Voldemort! Dumbledore actually told him so directly?
"You telling me this…" Rong's voice carried a tension he hadn't even noticed, "is it because you want the Uchiha… to do something?"
He instinctively tensed his body, Chakra flowing faintly through his meridians. Battle? But this felt somewhat disconnected from the "recruiting harmless Obscurus" atmosphere Dumbledore had previously created.
"Not 'hope,' Rong." Dumbledore gently shook his head, that heavy worry covered by a deeper, almost compassionate benevolence.
"It is 'informing.' Because you are at Hogwarts, you are students here, regardless of what powers or pasts you possess. As Headmaster, it is my responsibility to protect all students. And you…"
He paused, seemingly choosing his words carefully, "Your power is very special, perhaps more… easily coveted by darkness, and more easily drawn into the center of the storm, than you yourselves imagine.
I am telling you this because I hope you will be vigilant, protect yourselves, and protect each other.
Before the true storm arrives, enjoy your school days as much as possible, learn knowledge, and make friends."
He looked at Rong as if looking at a child who needed to be warned of thorns ahead but was still encouraged to explore the garden.
"As for the darkness itself," Dumbledore's tone became firm again, "that is my battlefield, the responsibility of adult Wizards. Your primary task is to learn, grow, and… be safe."
He once again pushed the Gringotts key towards Rong, this time with a gentle, undeniable force. "Please, take this key.
Miss Fali's investment may solve a temporary problem, but it's perfectly normal for a Headmaster to prepare some pocket money for his own students.
Think of it as… buying sweets? Or preparing small gifts for your friends?" He winked, implying something.
Rong looked at the key, then at Dumbledore's blue eyes, filled with complex emotions.
He understood. Dumbledore wasn't distrustful; he genuinely wanted to take these five children of unknown origin and special power, these "Obscurus," under his wing.
Using his methods (including Galleons) to provide shelter and care, allowing them to grow steadily, to become a force against darkness in the future, rather than being pushed onto the battlefield now.
This was a heavy kindness, an elder's form of recruitment based on powerful strength.
"I understand, Professor." Rong finally reached out and took the key, which carried a sense of emotion. This meant he accepted this "funding" of protection from the Headmaster, but it didn't mean the Uchiha would become pawns to be manipulated on his chessboard.
"The Uchiha value emotions above all else. We… dislike trouble, but we also don't fear storms. As for Professor Quirrell… we will keep an eye on him." His promise also carried the Uchiha's boundaries.
"That's good." Dumbledore seemed to breathe a sigh of relief, a warm smile reappearing on his face, and he picked up another lemon sherbet.
"Cooperation for mutual benefit, right? Now, go find your friends. Halloween is coming soon, and Hogwarts' pumpkin pie is something to look forward to."
Rong stood up to leave. As he exited the Headmaster's office, the hem of his robe seemed to brush against the crumbs of lemon sherbet on the table, picking up a bit of sweet, fine icing sugar.
"Thank you, Headmaster." This was the heartfelt gratitude of a duckweed to the old farmer who tended it… The shadows in the corridor were softer than those in the Dungeons, but Rong's mood felt like it had been smeared with lemon sherbet, cloyingly sweet and a little sluggish.
As he walked quickly, he subconsciously pulled out the crumpled parchment from his inner pocket—it was a list of shops in Diagon Alley (and the less-than-reputable alley next to it) that he had secretly researched last night.
"What should I buy…"
For Hermione's birthday present, he wanted to find something special; ordinary books and quills felt unworthy of her peppermint… and unworthy of his own belated sentiment.
Just as he was looking down, studying the reviews for a mysterious little shop called "Owl's Nest" next to "Borgin and Burkes," a familiar figure, carrying a stack of thick books that almost blocked her view, hurried around the corner from the library direction.
"Rong?" Hermione's voice carried a hint of surprise and an imperceptible… inquiry? She struggled to peek her head out from the side of the book pile, her brown curly hair somewhat disheveled against her forehead, wearing her signature ginger-yellow sweater and coffee-colored trousers.
"Hermione." Rong quickly tucked the parchment back into his sleeve, his movement almost instinctive.
Hermione's sharp gaze caught his fleeting action, and… her small nostrils twitched slightly.
The unique scent of lemon sherbet from the Headmaster's office, mixed with a hint of… old parchment and some indescribable smell, wafted from Rong.
"Did you just come out of the Headmaster's office?" Hermione stared at him, her brows habitually furrowed, like a vigilant chipmunk.
"Did you get into trouble again? Or Professor Snape…" Her gaze swept over Rong's face, trying to find any signs of injury or being dazed by Potion fumes.
"No, it's just… Professor Dumbledore wanted to talk to me about something." Rong answered vaguely, trying to change the subject, "About… well, some arrangements for daily life." He couldn't very well say the Headmaster gave me a bag of Galleons to buy sweets, could he?
"Daily arrangements?" Hermione's brows furrowed even deeper. Would Dumbledore specifically talk to a student about "daily arrangements"? And the mix of sweetness and… dark corners in Rong's scent made her inexplicably uneasy. She recalled his action of hiding something just now.
"What do you need to hide…" She didn't finish her sentence, her gaze sharply fixed on the hem of Rong's robe—where a few conspicuous, bright yellow lemon sherbet icing sugar crumbs clung.
The atmosphere instantly became a little delicate.
Hermione's arms, holding the books, tightened slightly, and a complex emotion flashed in her brown eyes. She looked at Rong's slightly unnatural expression, then at his concealed sleeve, and finally her gaze fell on those few glaring sugar crumbs.
Dumbledore's saccharine concern, coupled with Rong's obvious concealment… the thoughtful girl's mind instantly raced through countless possibilities, each pointing to Rong possibly being involved in some trouble or secret plan she didn't know about, related to the Headmaster.
She was silent for a full two minutes, her small body standing perfectly straight, only the pages of the books in her arms making a faint rustling sound. Then, she suddenly let out a cold "Hmph," the sound not loud, but like a piece of ice hitting the ground.
"Whatever." Hermione's voice carried a deliberately suppressed disappointment and sadness.
She no longer looked at Rong, holding that heavy stack of books, her back straight, like a proud yet wounded little lioness, she turned and quickly walked away.
Her brown curly hair traced a slightly stubborn arc under the corridor wall lamps, quickly disappearing around the corner leading to Gryffindor Tower.
Rong stood rooted, the feel of the parchment in his sleeve still lingering in his hand, his nostrils filled with the cloying sweetness of lemon icing sugar and the faint, clean scent of ink left by Hermione's hair. He was completely bewildered.
"???" Rong's mind was filled with enormous question marks. Things were fine just now (though they hadn't spoken), so why did she suddenly… get angry? What did he do wrong?
Hiding the list was to avoid revealing the birthday surprise prematurely, was that wrong too? The icing sugar Dumbledore gave… could that also upset her? A girl's thought process was even harder to understand than Professor Snape's Potion recipes!
He stared blankly in the direction Hermione had disappeared, feeling a sense of powerlessness he'd never experienced before, even more so than Chakra depletion.
Halloween was approaching, and pumpkin decorations began to hang in the castle, a cheerful atmosphere starting to emerge.
Yet Rong felt that, inexplicably, he had somehow angered the most important little witch. And he didn't even know why.
Chapter 30: For the Gift! Leaving School! (Part 1)
Hermione's cold "hmph" and her decisive departure felt like a tiny thorn in Rong's heart.
Although he didn't understand the reason at all, the clear sense of estrangement made him feel a frustration more unfamiliar than Chakra depletion.
However, in Uchiha Rong's dictionary, "confusion" could not hinder "action."
The idea of making up for Hermione's birthday gift didn't fade due to this inexplicable cold war; instead, it burned even brighter in his heart.
The problem was: Hogwarts was not Diagon Alley. The castle's thick stone walls and strict protective magic kept students firmly confined within the campus, especially the younger years.
Without a Professor's note, trying to sneak off to Hogsmeade Village on the weekend? It was simply a pipe dream.
Rong sat in a high-backed chair by the Gryffindor common room fireplace, unconsciously toying with a Galleon. The firelight danced on the smooth surface of the coin, reflecting his slightly furrowed brow.
Fali's investment had solved his immediate financial needs, and Dumbledore's key represented long-term security, but at this moment, these cold metals couldn't transform into the heartfelt gift he wanted to give Hermione.
He needed a "justifiable reason" to leave the castle.
"Tsk, do I have to go to Professor Snape and apply for 'Potion Ingredient Procurement'?"
Rong thought to himself, then immediately dismissed this crazy idea.
Given Professor Snape's personality, he would most likely hand him a lengthy list, then make him wrestle with slimy, oddly scented creatures deep in the Dungeons all day, only to finally sneer and tell him, "Materials have already been ordered by owl."
Or worse, he'd simply withhold the funds, calling it "safekeeping."
Just as his thoughts were in a jumble, a faint yet distinct tapping sound echoed from the small, perpetually closed window high up in the common room, used for ventilation.
The sound wasn't the familiar pecking of an owl's beak, but deeper, steadier, with a certain rhythm.
Rong abruptly looked up.
Outside the window, against the deep, dark background of the Black Lake, a magnificent bird with wings as black as ink, larger and more imposing than a common raven, was gently tapping the glass with its strong beak. Most striking were its eyes; in the dim light, they faintly glowed with a dark red luster, like blood jade.
When it tilted its head slightly, allowing the moonlight streaming through the window to sweep across its tail feathers, a faint golden dust scattered in the air.
Night Feather!
This naughty child, who had gone off to find his mother raven after entering Hogwarts, had finally returned home!
An indescribable sense of familiarity welled up in his heart. Rong almost instantly rose, walked quickly to the window, and with a light press of his finger on a hidden magical rune in the window frame, the window silently slid open a crack.
Night Feather deftly slipped inside, landing lightly on Rong's outstretched arm.
The cold metal armguard felt the strength of its claws, heavy. It tilted its head, its blood-red eyes gazing at Rong, seemingly conveying something silently.
It brought no scroll, nor did it speak in human tongue, but Rong could feel a sense of reunion and security from their bloodline contract.
"Where have you been?" Rong whispered, his fingers gently stroking its smooth back feathers. Night Feathermerely rubbed his finger with its beak, but its gaze shifted towards the stone door leading to the Head of House's office in the common room.
Following Night Feather's gaze, that stone door, symbolizing Professor Snape's absolute authority and exuding the scent of wormwood and Potion, seemed to glow with a faint light in Rong's eyes—not a physical light, but a spark of inspiration that illuminated his thoughts.
Head of House's office... Professor Snape... note... permission to go out!
A bold (or rather, self-entrapping) plan instantly formed in Rong's mind. To buy Hermione a gift, he was willing to deal with that old viper!
For the next week and a half, the Potion storeroom in the Slytherin Dungeons became the place Rong spent the most time, apart from classes and his dormitory.
The air was ten times thicker than usual with peculiar smells strong enough to make an ordinary person faint: rotten African tree snake skin, viscous Bubotuber pus, finely ground venomous tentacula spikes needing precise milligram measurements, and barrels of frog brains reeking of swamp... Professor Snape had apparently "considerately" understood Rong's "eagerness" to "improve his Potion skills" (Rong's original words were: "Professor, I believe there's much I still need to learn from you regarding the pre-treatment of Potion ingredients, and I hope to assist you with some basic tasks in my free time"), and had "generously" granted his wish.
Every afternoon after class until before curfew, and for most of the weekend, Rong was confined to the cold, damp storeroom or Potion preparation room.
His hands were stained various colors by all sorts of slime, powders, and juices, and the pungent odors seemed to have seeped into his skin and hair.
His body was exhausted from this high-intensity, high-precision repetitive labor, only able to stay awake by relying on the few remaining double mints Hermione had given him earlier.
Chang watched Rong float back to the dormitory like a ghost every day, smelling strangely and collapsing into sleep, couldn't help but click her tongue: "Rong, has Professor Snape cursed you? Is it really worth it, just to go out?"
Fali, while carefully dripping nutrient solution onto her moonlark, added a sharp comment: "Chief's endurance assessment: S-rank. Target value assessment: Unknown. Behavioral logic: High risk, low reward."
Lan elegantly trimmed her finally blooming jasmine, a faint voice drifting over: "Uchiha, they're all like that." Lin, meanwhile, silently pushed his almost untouched dinner pudding to Rong's bedside.
Just as Rong felt like he was about to be pickled by Potions and was on the verge of a mental breakdown, Professor Snape finally, on a gloomy Saturday afternoon, after he had perfectly sorted and bottled the last bucket of Flobberworm mucus, tossed him a neatly folded piece of parchment as if bestowing a favor.
On the paper, in Professor Snape's characteristic, ornate yet sharp handwriting, it read:
> Permission Slip
> Student: Uchiha Rong (Slytherin House)
> Reason: Accompanying Headmaster for personal business (Gringotts matters)
> Destination: Hogsmeade Village (en route)
> Time: October 30th (Sunday), 9 AM to 3 PM
> Issued by: Severus Snape (Head of House)
Below was a line of small text, the ink seemingly imbued with mockery:
> "In view of your… 'impressive' focus and endurance in material processing this week, this is hereby approved. May you maintain the same 'precision' amidst the piles of Galleons at Gringotts."
Rong clutched this flimsy but heavy permission slip, watching Professor Snape's black robes disappear behind the stone door. A huge sense of relief and… a feeling of being played for a fool surged through his utterly exhausted body!
Accompanying the Headmaster? Gringotts business? Dumbledore had already arranged it! That old bastard Professor Snape! He knew all along! This past week, he was purely exploiting free labor! Using information asymmetry to treat him as a grunt!
The "The 5·3 Workbook" scroll flashed in the depths of his consciousness:
[Information Asymmetry Utilization: B+]
Rong: Shut up! You useless thing! And Professor Snape, that master of information asymmetry utilization!
But no matter what, the permission was in hand. October 30th, Hogsmeade Village!
— Meanwhile, Gryffindor Tower —
In the warm but somewhat empty common room, Hermione was curled up alone in a large armchair by the fireplace. A thick book, "Innovative Charms Theory," lay open on her lap, but her gaze wasn't focused on the complex runes.
Her eyes constantly drifted towards the entrance to the Great Hall, or the direction of the Slytherin table. Almost a week had passed since that unpleasant encounter in the corridor.
For the past week and a half, Rong had been like a wandering ghost—at least from her perspective.
At lunch and dinner, he was always the first to appear at the Slytherin table and the first to leave.
He would quickly gobble down a few bites of food, as if on a mission, then disappear without a backward glance towards the Dungeons, as if a Troll was chasing him.
Forget about him coming over to say a word; there was hardly even a glance exchanged.
Hermione had tried several "chance encounters." She lingered longer near her usual spot in the library, slowed her pace at the Transfiguration Class classroom door, even dawdled packing her bag after Charms class… But Rong either didn't appear at all, or he swept past like a gust of wind, seemingly carrying with him a scent… a mix of earth and strange herbs (which were actually Potioningredients)?
And he always seemed rushed, his brow furrowed, looking unapproachable and preoccupied.
Each "missed opportunity" was like cold rain, slowly extinguishing Hermione's initial anger born of worry and curiosity, replaced by a heavy sense of grievance and a deepening gloom.
"He must be involved in some task Headmaster Dumbledore gave him… that's why he's so busy, that's why he's avoiding me…"
Hermione hugged her knees, burying her face in her arms, her voice muffled, with a hint of an almost imperceptible sob. This was the most reasonable explanation she could think of.
Otherwise, how could the Rong who would clumsily coax her at the Maria Orphanage, who would shield her from Malfoy on the train, who would quietly read with her in the library, suddenly become so strange and distant?
"Doesn't he even want to give me an explanation?" This thought gnawed at her heart like a venomous snake. She felt like a fool, still worrying and getting angry about his secrecy and potential danger, while he perhaps… didn't care about her feelings at all? Or even thought she was in the way?
"Maybe… he doesn't need me as a friend anymore?" This terrible, self-deprecating thought was quickly suppressed. "No, Rong would never be like that!"
As Halloween approached, with the castle's increasingly festive decorations and laughter, this uneasy seed gradually germinated.
She felt as if she were isolated in a transparent bubble; the merriment outside had nothing to do with her, and inside there was only loneliness and a constantly fermenting bitterness.
She sniffed hard, forcing herself to pull her attention back to her book. Although the familiar magical symbols on the pages now seemed blurry and cold… October 30th, Sunday morning. Hogwarts Castle was shrouded in a thin morning mist.
Rong changed into a clean, neat dark casual outfit, carefully put away the money bag containing Galleons, and took one last look at the parchment list in his sleeve, which included shops like "Owl's Nest." He took a deep breath and stepped out of the castle gates.
The crisp, cold air filled his lungs, dispelling the gloom of the Dungeons and the smell of Potions. The scent of freedom! Destination: Hogsmeade Village!
Hogsmeade Village's bustle was a stark contrast to Hogwarts' solemnity.
The pointed rooftops were covered with a thin layer of early frost, and the streets were filled with students and villagers in various Wizard robes, their laughter ringing out.
Shop windows displayed a dazzling array of magical goods: biting cauldron cakes, sizzling Butterbeer, strangely shaped Halloween decorations… After confirming the Gringotts vault with Dumbledore, Rong, with a clear goal, headed straight for the cluster of shops he remembered. The cloying sweetness of Honeydukes wafted over, and the clamor of Zonko's Joke Shop was incessant, but he merely glanced over them. His gaze sharply scanned the signs on both sides of the street.
Uh, where was the magical pet shop again?
"If you're looking for a furry little companion, I believe Diagon Alley might have a clue~" Dumbledore said with a benevolent smile, "Come, take my hand."
Rong did as told, and then experienced the after-effects of his first spatial transfer.
"Ugh—couldn't you have given me a warning—",
"It wouldn't be fun if I did… Cleaned up!"
Dumbledore received a murderous glare x1.
Before them was the magical pet shop. Rong tidied his clothes slightly and pushed the door open.
The doorbell chimed crisply. The shop was warm and slightly crowded, the air mixed with the scent of hay, feathers, and a certain small animal smell.
Cages held various strange creatures: colorful magical birds chirped melodiously, the carapaces of fire crabs glimmered in glass tanks, and a cage of Pygmy Puffs rolled around like furballs in a corner.
Rong's gaze quickly swept over the shop, finally settling on a slightly larger cage near the counter.
There, a ginger-colored cat was sprawled lazily.
Its fur was fluffy and thick, like a warm flame, and its flat, round face made it look a bit comical, but its large amber eyes were unusually sharp, now half-closed, observing Rong with an almost arrogant scrutiny as he entered.
The tip of its tail twitched idly, making it seem both lazy and… intelligent?
For some reason, the moment he saw this cat, Rong immediately pictured Hermione in the library, frowning as she rapidly flipped through thick tomes, and impatiently pushing back the unruly strand of brown curly hair from her forehead with her finger.
That focused, intelligent, yet slightly stubborn feeling, and the temperament of this cat… were surprisingly similar!
This was it! Rong barely hesitated, pointing to the ginger-colored cat and saying to the shopkeeper, "Hello, I'll take this cat." He believed that this special companion would surely dispel the gloom in Hermione's heart caused by him—though he still didn't know what that gloom actually was.
(Crookshanks Online!How can you not start raising a cat from childhood??How about giving Fluttermoth some cat food for Crookshanks' sake??վ'ᴗ' ի)
Chapter 31: For the Gift! Leaving School! (Part 2)
Uchiha Rong rushed out of the shop, and Crookshanks in the cat basket in his hand let out curious purrs.
Suppressing the discomfort of Apparition, his destination was clear: Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions.
Tomorrow was the Halloween feast, and time was short; he absolutely had to get back to give it to Hermione.
Pushing open the shop door, Rong went straight to the counter: "Madam Malkin, rush order! Two items, must be ready by five PM tomorrow!"
Madam Malkin looked troubled: "Tomorrow? That's too rushed! It will cost..."
"Triple pay, deposit upfront!" Rong decisively slapped down a bulging money pouch, "One minute late, and the final payment is halved!"
The power of money was immediate; Madam Malkin's eyes visibly lit up.
"Deal! What are the requirements?"
Rong spoke quickly:
"Five sets of regular clothes.
Two sets for each person, black or dark blue.
The fabric must be tough, light, and durable.
Embroider this symbol on the back with white and red thread (hands over a drawing of the Uchiha clan crest).
The simpler the style, the better, easy to move in, for example, one set like hunting attire and one like a cloak."
"One dress.
For Hermione Granger, a first-year Gryffindor student.
If I remember correctly, you should have her measurements from the school records here; use those.
The color should be a stable and warm chestnut brown, with a cream-white trim.
High-waisted, with a loose skirt that's easy to walk in, and three-quarter length sleeves.
Add a small, same-color lace bow on the chest.
The fabric needs to be light and breathable, preferably with a little magic for warmth and stain resistance.
Elegant, beautiful, and not cumbersome."
Madam Malkin noted the requirements: "That will be ninety-seven Galleons and seven Sickles, a round figure will do, how about ninety-seven Galleons?"
Rong showed a relaxed smile; the power of money was indeed effective: "Then I'll leave it to you."
Madam Malkin then rushed into the clattering workshop in the back like a whirlwind.
Rong left the shop and found Dumbledore loitering outside the Diagon Alley bookstore.
"Professor, could you please take Crookshanks back to Hogwarts first? I have to wait here for the clothes; I won't be back until tomorrow afternoon."
Dumbledore gladly took the basket; Crookshanks was very interested in his silver beard.
"Who could refuse such a lovely little thing? Glad to help, and I wish you a pleasant time supervising.
I'll help you excuse Severus, and I'll wait for you here tomorrow at five PM."
After speaking, he blinked his blue eyes and disappeared into the air with the kitten.
Rong returned to the robe shop, found a hard stool, sat down, and closed his eyes to rest.
Night fell, and the shop windows lit up.
Night Feather landed on his shoulder, vigilantly watching the quiet street for a while, but ultimately couldn't fight off drowsiness, nodding off against him.
One person and one bird quietly waited for dawn among the piles of fabric.
— Hogwarts, evening of October 30th —
The Gryffindor common room was warm and cozy, but Hermione was like an isolated island in the corner.
"History of Magic" lay open on her lap, but she couldn't read a single word.
"Ten days."
This number weighed heavily on her heart.
Since the last corridor conflict, Uchiha Rong had gone from a wandering ghost to being completely elusive.
At meal times, he was always the first to appear and the quickest to disappear from the Slytherin table, as if on a mission, radiating a "don't bother me" aura, barely touching dessert.
Today, he didn't even attend breakfast.
Her usual seat in the library?
Empty for a week.
The corridor outside the Charms class classroom?
She leaned there all afternoon, only other Slytherins walked by the door.
At lunchtime, Lan elegantly raised her hand, Xian was calculating, Cheng was tearing bread, and Lin was wiping kunai that weren't there—only he was missing.
On Saturday in the Great Hall, she deliberately sat for a long time, until most people had left, but his seat remained empty.
Each time her expectations were dashed, the initial anger had long since faded, leaving only a heavy sense of grievance and an increasingly thick gloom—a chilling feeling of being completely ignored.
"He must be on a secret mission for Dumbledore... dangerous, requiring secrecy, so he's avoiding everyone, especially me..."
She tried to convince herself with logic over and over again, but her heart felt heavy.
The Rong who would offer her candy, who would block the annoying Malfoy in front of her, who would quietly accompany her in the library, and this shadow who now ignored her, simply couldn't overlap.
"Not even a word... a glance... any sign?"
She blinked hard to clear the sting from her eyes.
She felt like a fool, still worrying about him, making excuses for him, while he perhaps... didn't care at all, or even found her annoying?
"Maybe... he doesn't need me as a friend anymore.
Maybe... I'm just an unlikable nuisance?"
This terrifying thought, amplified by the increasingly festive Halloween clamor in the castle—the grinning pumpkins floating about, the flapping bat decorations—drowned her like a cold tide.
All the merriment was behind glass; she was trapped alone in solitude.
Even Ron and Harry's gazes seemed to carry a hint of... distance?
She tugged at her ginger-yellow sweater, feeling as though it had lost all its warmth...—October 31st, Halloween morning - Corridor after Charms class—
The suppressed emotions reached their peak after Charms class.
Everyone packed up and surged towards the Great Hall.
Hermione helped Neville with the Levitation Charm, and the feather finally floated precariously, making her sigh in relief.
She turned to see Ron still struggling with his motionless feather, his face flushed red.
"Wingardium Leviosa, Ron," she habitually pointed out, her voice clear, "You have to flick your wrist lightly, and the emphasis is on 'gar' and 'o-sa'! It's 'Win-GAR-dium Levi-O-sa', don't just slur it all together!"
This sentence became the last straw that broke the camel's back.
Ron's accumulated frustration (her endless corrections, nitpicking, and her closeness to that strange Rong, and now that Rong ignored her, she came to bother him) instantly erupted.
Due to the Professor's authority, he had to hold it in for now.
Finally, class was dismissed.
He pulled Harry away and poured out his grievances to his good friend.
His face was flushed, his voice not loud but full of resentment, and unfortunately, Hermione, who was walking behind, overheard it:
"She's a nightmare! Who can stand her!"
He rolled his eyes at the empty space, his gaze as if looking at some troublesome person.
He just didn't notice the little witch behind him, "No wonder she doesn't have any friends!"
The world instantly went silent.
The faint smile that had appeared on Hermione's face due to Neville's success froze and shattered.
Ron's words were like an ice pick, stabbing fiercely into her most painful spot—the ten days of accumulated grievance, the coldness of being ignored by Rong, and the heavy fear of "being unliked" exploded!
Her face turned deathly pale, and her body trembled uncontrollably.
Shock, humiliation, and the pain of heartbreak instantly overwhelmed her.
Hot tears streamed out, blurring her vision.
She bit her lip hard, tasting blood.
Harry opened his mouth in astonishment: "Ron, how could you say that..."
Hermione didn't give him a chance.
She spun around abruptly, bumping past the Gryffindorboy beside her, covering her face, suppressed sobs escaping through her fingers.
Like a wounded rabbit, she stumbled through the crowd, ignoring Professor Flitwick's alarmed shouts, and bolted towards the empty girls' lavatory on the second floor.
"Uh, she didn't hear that, did she...?"
Bang!
The heavy lavatory door closed behind her, cutting off the world.
The chill of the cold tiles pierced through her clothes.
She slid down to the floor, leaning against the cold door, burying her face deep in her knees.
The tears she had suppressed for ten days finally burst forth, and desperate cries echoed in the empty lavatory, full of grievance and loneliness.
— Diagon Alley, Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions —
When the setting sun shone into the shop window, Rong opened his eyes.
Night Feather also became alert at the same time.
Fatigue lingered, but his eyes were sharp.
Madam Malkin, with dark circles under her eyes, excitedly rushed out holding two gift boxes tied with dark purple ribbons: "It's done! Look! It's a miracle!"
Rong stood up to inspect.
Ten sets of dark blue pants and tops, the fabric tough and thin, flowing with a subtle cool sheen.
The Uchiha clan crest on the back was embroidered with dark silver thread, precise and sharp, the style extremely simple and neat.
Perfect.
And the dress?
Warm chestnut brown silk like melted amber, cream-white trim outlining simple lines.
A high-waisted A-line dress, three-quarter sleeves, a small lace bow on the chest adding a touch of liveliness.
The fabric was light, with a soft sheen, comfortable to the touch and constant in temperature.
Rong almost saw it under the library lights... Hmm, if it could be paired with Hermione's smiling face, that would be even better.
"Excellent, thank you.
Here are the ninety-seven Galleons we agreed upon."
Rong promptly paid the remaining balance and then handed over an additional three Galleons.
"This is a tip, Madam, to thank you for your promptness."
He carefully put away the box of regular clothes and placed the gift box containing the dress into a newly purchased magic bag (with cushioning and space expansion) as if it were a precious ninja tool.
"Oh, you're too kind... Next time, remember to come back to me; I guarantee you'll be satisfied with the craftsmanship!"
Madam Malkin's eyes sparkled in the reflection of the golden Galleons.
He was eager to return!
Fatigue was overcome by impulse.
He just wanted to immediately return to Hogwarts and give Crookshanks (Dumbledore should have settled him in) and this belated birthday surprise to that sulking girl.
Imagining her wide eyes when she saw Crookshanks, the possible brightening of her expression when she put on the dress, and the scene of the peppermint candy bag being placed back in her hand...
He hoped these things would dispel all her unhappiness.
He quickly walked out of the shop, the setting sun painting the alley golden.
Dumbledore was already waiting at the door, "It seems you're very satisfied with Madam Malkin's work!
Don't throw up this time; after all, clothes are hard to wash."
Rong couldn't help but roll his eyes, but a smile involuntarily appeared on his face.
He had no idea that at this moment, in the girls' lavatory on the second floor of Hogwarts, Hermione was crying heartbrokenly because of Ron's words, "No wonder she doesn't have any friends."
A strong stench, a mixture of mud, decaying grass, and animal musk, was spreading through the castle corridors like a living thing, growing thicker and thicker, heading purposefully towards the lavatory from which the crying emanated.
The prelude to Halloween chaos was about to begin.