The next morning, breakfast time in the Great Hall was much livelier than usual. News of the "Troll Intrusion" from the night before had spread throughout the castle. Although the Prefects vehemently claimed it was just a "Halloween Special Program" or a prank by some upperclassmen, that didn't stop the students from exercising their overactive imaginations.
Rove sat at the Hufflepuff table, a mountain of grilled sausages and fried eggs piled high in front of him. But he wasn't in a hurry to eat. Instead, he narrowed his eyes, his gaze cutting through the crowd and fixing firmly on the staff table.
> [Hostile Unit Status Abnormality Detected.]
> [Target: Saruman (Snape).]
> [Status: Limb Damaged / Dark Magic Backlash / Movement Speed -30%.]
Professor Snape arrived very late today. When he walked into the Great Hall, although he wore his usual gloomy expression that screamed "keep away," Rove keenly noticed something unnatural in his gait.
His left leg seemed reluctant to bear weight, and with every step, his brow furrowed slightly.
"Look there." Rove slid over to the Gryffindor table with his plate, squeezing in between Harry and Ron.
"What's up, Rove?" Harry was feeding toast to his owl, Hedwig, who pecked affectionately at his finger.
"Observe Saruman... I mean, Professor Snape's leg," Rove whispered. "See that? The incoordination in his stride."
Harry and Ron immediately turned their heads.
"He looks hurt," Ron mumbled through a mouthful of bacon. "He's limping."
"Not just hurt," Rove's gaze deepened. "Those are marks from the bite of a powerful guardian beast. Last night, while we were dealing with the Cave Troll, someone tried to break into the Forbidden Zone."
Harry's eyes went wide.
"You mean?!"
"Exactly," Rove nodded with certainty. "He tried to steal the object. But he underestimated the power of the Watchdog—I mean, Carcharoth the Wolf (Fluffy)."
In Rove's System logic: Snape = The White Wizard Saruman (Traitor); Fluffy = The Ancient Wolf Carcharoth; The Philosopher's Stone = A Silmaril / The One Ring.
In Harry's reality logic: Snape = Bad Guy; Fluffy = Three-Headed Dog; The Object = The small package Hagrid mentioned.
Two completely different lines of logic somehow achieved a perfect closed loop in this moment.
"I knew it!" Harry slapped the table excitedly. "He tried to get past that corridor during the chaos!"
"Shh!" Hermione arrived, clutching a book thicker than a brick. "What are you discussing? Keep your voices down."
"We are analyzing enemy intelligence, my lady," Rove pulled a piece of parchment from his pocket. "Also, given the current situation, we need to bolster our armed forces. Specifically, our air power."
He spread the parchment on the table.
It was originally a sketch of the Quidditch pitch, but now Rove had covered it with dazzling lines and arrows.
> [Tactical Simulation: Great Eagle Knights vs. The Nazgûl.]
> [Operation Codename: Skyfire.]
"Wood told me the Quidditch season is about to start," Rove pointed to the circles on the diagram. "Harry, as the Seeker, your mission isn't just to catch the Golden Snitch. You are our aerial scout, the Hawkeye on the battlefield."
"Er, what's this?" Ron pointed to a red curve descending from the sky on the map, labeled with strange runes and the words 'Justice from Above'.
"It's a tactic," Rove explained seriously. "Utilizing gravitational potential energy, dive vertically from high altitude, and pull up at the last second before impact. This maneuver creates a massive sonic boom, which not only terrifies enemy Chasers but can even destabilize their brooms."
"That sounds extremely dangerous," Hermione commented with a frown, quickly calculating acceleration and centrifugal force. "And it violates Quidditch Rule 72: No intentional crashing or life-threatening flight maneuvers."
"It's not crashing, it's deterrence," Rove said solemnly. "On the battlefield, momentum is everything. Remember, Harry, when you mount that broom, you aren't playing a game; you are piloting a Great Eagle."
Harry looked at the "military-style" tactical map. Although he didn't really understand terms like "flanking maneuvers" or "firepower coverage," he suddenly felt that Quidditch had become something sacred.
Just then, a timid voice interrupted their tactical meeting.
"Um... Rove?"
The air behind Rove seemed to sweeten. Susan Bones stood there, wringing her hands, holding a small pot of pale green ointment. Her face was flushed red all the way to her ears. With her long golden-red hair braided into two plaits, she looked both nervous and shy, like a little badger gathering the courage to step out of its burrow.
"Oh, Susan." Rove turned around, his expression softening instantly. "Is something the matter?"
"I... I heard about last night," Susan's voice was as quiet as a mosquito. "They said you fought a Troll. I wanted to see if you were hurt."
Before Rove could answer, Susan plucked up her courage and grabbed Rove's arm, carefully inspecting his wrist and the web of his thumb. The area where he had gripped the frying pan to withstand the Troll's shockwave was indeed still red and swollen.
"Goodness, it's all swollen," Susan exclaimed in distress. She quickly opened the ointment and carefully applied it to Rove's hand. "It must hurt, doesn't it?"
> [System Notification: Friendly Unit administering treatment.]
> [Judgment: Rohan Maiden's Affinity increased significantly.]
> [Current Relationship: Admiration / Affection.]
> [Buff Acquired: [Maiden's Prayer] — Healing Speed +50%, Mood +20, Minor increase to all elemental resistances.]
Rove coughed awkwardly, sensing the gossipy gazes from around them—especially from the Hufflepuff table, where Cedric was winking at him vigorously.
"Ahem, it's nothing, Susan," Rove tried to pull his hand back but failed. "Just a warrior's medal. For a champion who has faced a Cave Troll, this little scratch—ouch, gently."
"Don't move!" Susan glared at him. Her gentle dominance made Rove obedient instantly. "If you don't treat it properly, there will be aftereffects. You don't take care of yourself at all."
Hermione watched from the side. For some reason, seeing Susan's careful demeanor and Rove's expression, she suddenly felt the History of Medieval Magic in her hands become dull, even a bit of an eyesore.
She slammed the book shut with a loud thud, startling Ron beside her.
"Since your injuries are being handled by a 'professional'," Hermione stood up abruptly, hugging her book to her chest, her tone stiff, "I won't disturb you. I'm going to the library."
She turned to Harry and Ron, speaking rapidly: "Harry, Ron, don't forget Snape's essay is due today!"
With that, she tossed her bushy brown hair and strode toward the Great Hall doors without looking back, her retreating figure radiating an inexplicable anger.
Rove looked confusedly at Hermione's back, momentarily forgetting the pain in his hand.
"What's wrong with her?" Rove asked Harry. "Did I say something wrong just now? Or does she think my aerial combat tactics are flawed?"
"I don't know." Harry shrugged, looking bewildered. "Girls are hard to understand."
"Maybe she's going to the library to look up information on treating Troll impact injuries?" Ron guessed. "After all, she loves finding answers in books."
Rove paused, then a look of realization and approval dawned in his eyes.
"So that's it!"
Rove watched the direction Hermione disappeared and sighed with emotion: "Truly our Scholar. Seeing a teammate injured, she immediately goes to seek higher-level healing magic or knowledge on countering Trolls. Such thirst for knowledge and drive... she really is a future White Wizard."
He turned back and patted Harry on the shoulder, speaking earnestly:
"Not bad, Harry. Your insight is getting sharper, being able to notice details like that. It seems you really have the potential to become an excellent Ranger. Remember, on the battlefield, you must not only observe the enemy but also understand the intentions of your allies."