"Where'd the dog come from?"
When he got back to the common room, that was the first thing everyone blurted out when they saw Skyl.
"This is Afu. He's very mysterious. A mysterious dog." Skyl patted the wolfhound's head. "Want to pet him? He's very well-behaved."
The little lions all loved the handsome wolfhound; boys and girls alike couldn't help crowding around.
Afu had a pair of cold, dark eyes. He was utterly quiet; even when the children were furiously scrubbing and ruffling his head, he didn't show any reaction. He was like a middle-aged man whose heart had already died, bearing the pressure of life in silence, without a word.
"So good… he's gorgeous."
The girls couldn't resist the urge to dress him up. These little witches didn't need to fuss with hair ties or clips; they just had to pull out their wands and give a flick. The wolfhound's long fur changed colour, braided itself into bows, and jingling golden bells appeared, hanging from his hair.
Skyl watched with smiling eyes. Not only did he make no move to stop them, he even encouraged everyone to use their imagination and go overboard. He and Afu didn't mind at all.
The younger wizards deliberately said in loud voices that they needed to check whether the dog was male or female. The girls shrieked and burst into giggles. The Weasley twins egged them on enthusiastically, though they kept themselves well back, as far away as the girls. Harry wanted to go closer but felt too shy, so he too retreated to the back of the crowd. The older boys surrounded Afu, and after a while a few miserable, high-pitched barks rang out. The boys roared with laughter, as though they'd discovered something terribly funny.
The girls hid their faces and asked what they'd found out, but the boys refused to say a word.
When the crowd finally thinned a little, the wolfhound's expression was blank, the light in his eyes completely dimmed.
Percy pushed through the merry crowd to Skyl's side, a very troubled look on his face. "Skyl! You can't keep a dog this big at school."
"Don't worry. Afu won't cause us any trouble. If I let him wander outside, I wouldn't feel safe. So it's better to keep him here."
Skyl had no illusions about Voldemort's abilities. If he didn't keep a tight leash on him, Gryffindor would become a gathering place for dark wizards in less than a term.
"You promise? But as for the professors…" Percy sighed. "I'll… try to think of something."
Skyl took out a bag of strawberry-and-cream toffees and handed them out to the little lions around him. "Don't you trust me yet? I may not follow school rules, but no one's ever managed to catch me breaking them."
"Well said!" a few of the lions cheered, clapping. The Weasley twins came forward and grabbed Skyl's hand. "To tell you the truth, we're huge fans of yours!"
Once everyone had had their fill of the novelty, a new worry rose up: would the professors send the dog away? Harry came to Skyl and suggested they could leave Afu with Hagrid. As gamekeeper, Hagrid was brilliant with animals; Afu would live in absolute comfort at his hut.
Skyl vaguely remembered that Tom Riddle seemed to have some bad blood with Hagrid. He politely but firmly declined the suggestion on the spot.
It was obvious Harry really liked Afu—though rather than "liked," it was more that he was drawn to some quality in him. The other children drifted off once they'd finished playing, but Harry stayed by Afu's side the whole time.
Skyl leaned back in an armchair and took out a blank notebook to scribble in—these notebooks were actually made from his pyjamas, and had self-repair enchantments. They weren't afraid of water or fire; even if torn to pieces they would restore themselves, along with everything written in them.
A leisurely evening ought to be spent like this: studying magic, sitting in a comfy armchair, sipping hot tea, watching kids in the common room fuss over a dog. Skyl suddenly felt a pang of sadness at how much he enjoyed this grandpa-style existence.
He glanced at the door-shaped mark on the back of his hand (how long had it been since that last showed up?), and was pleasantly surprised to see the countdown for World III appear.
[World I: Arrived]
[World II: Opened]
[World α: Opened]
[World III: Countdown 99:12]
In another three and a half days it would unlock. He had no idea what kind of world it would be this time. Hopefully somewhere with more interesting magic to see.
Harry was squatting beside glassy-eyed Afu. Like every cautious child, he felt both pity and a little fear toward a lonely animal. Harry had always wanted a pet of his own, but his aunt's family already resented having to "keep" him; how could they possibly allow the little servant boy the right to keep a pet?
Hermione was squatting next to him. By this point Afu had been decorated until he looked like a Christmas tree. The little witch had had a hand in that earlier. As if worried Harry might not recognise the breed, she began explaining the history of Russian wolfhounds.
"Russian nobles bred them to help with hunting. They'd supposedly take a hundred out at once, and no prey could escape them—like a pack of wolves."
Harry was used to Hermione's way of being. At least with her around, his ears never had a chance to get bored.
"Hermione."
"Mm?"
"Do you think… Afu seems a bit sad?"
"That's because of what you boys did to him earlier!" Hermione's face flushed red. Feeling guilty, she cast a furtive look around and then leaned closer to whisper, "Did you see? Is Afu a boy or a girl?"
Harry shook his head. "Let's not talk about that. I think Afu can understand us."
Hermione tilted her head and called over to Skyl. "Is Afu a magical creature?"
"Yes. Not only does he understand, he's very petty. You bullied him just now—Afu definitely won't forget it. Remember not to be alone with him in future."
Hermione's little face went paper-white. She leaned close to the wolfhound's ear and pleaded in a whisper, "Good dog, you won't hurt me, will you? I'll make you dinner from now on, all right?"
Afu didn't spare her so much as a glance. All of his attention was focused on Harry.
He had recognised him. Harry Potter. The Boy Who Lived, the saviour who had killed the Dark Lord. Voldemort could still clearly recall that scene, eleven years ago, in Godric's Hollow. After he killed James and Lily Potter, he had never intended to spare the baby in the crib.
Back then, Voldemort hadn't known that Harry Potter was protected by a magic so powerful that when the Unforgivable Killing Curse struck the infant, it not only failed to kill him, it rebounded and struck the caster.
Voldemort was destroyed by his own curse, leaving only a scrap of soul to crawl on.
He had never imagined that the magic protecting Harry could be that strong. For it contained the warmest, most abundant emotion in the human world—an emotion Voldemort despised yet could never obtain: love.
To cast the Killing Curse required intense hatred and malice. The more a witch or wizard wallowed in the Unforgivable Curses, the farther they drifted from love.
Even now, Voldemort had not let go of his hatred for Harry.
The wolfhound's cold eyes were fixed on the boy's neck—slender, smooth, faintly scented. One bite would be enough to crush his windpipe.
Unfortunately, that damned Skyl was right here.
Damn Skyl. Damn Harry Potter.
Sooner or later, I'll have my revenge. Every humiliation I've suffered will be repaid a hundredfold!
Harry stared into the dog's eyes for a long time, then suddenly turned to Skyl. "I think Afu likes me."
Skyl: …
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