The next morning, as Harry walked out of the Hospital Wing, he didn't feel much relief. The news of Colin Creevey's petrification had spread through Hogwarts as if it had wings, and everyone was whispering.
"Maintain formation." Rove walked on Harry's left. "Hogwarts now is like Osgiliath under the gaze of Sauron; any shadow could hide an Orc assassin. Or worse, a corrupted companion."
> [Environmental Scan in Progress...]
> [Warning: Hostility of surrounding units rising.]
> [Suggestion: Enter stealth mode.]
"Rove, don't be so tense," Ron muttered, though he was quite scared himself. "We're just going to... you-know-where. Nobody wants to go there."
"Precisely because no one wants to go there, it is the safest tactical stronghold." Rove lowered his voice. "In Middle-earth, Rangers always camp in haunted ruins or cursed forests, because even Orcs dare not approach them."
They traversed the corridors, avoiding crowds, and finally slipped into a girls' bathroom on the second floor.
This was Moaning Myrtle's territory.
"This is perfect." Rove looked around at the constantly dripping taps and nodded with satisfaction.
> [Temporary Stronghold Discovered: The Forgotten Ruins]
> [Concealment Value: High (Due to Wraith Garrison)]
> [Environment: Damp, Gloomy, Suitable for Dark Alchemy Experiments]
> [Note: Every drop of water here is filled with sorrow, a natural mental barrier.]
Hermione was already waiting there. She sat on a toilet lid, holding a frighteningly thick old book—Moste Potente Potions.
"I found it."
"Since we need to find out if Malfoy is the Heir, we have to sneak into the Slytherin common room and question him."
"That's impossible," Harry and Ron said in unison. "We're Gryffindors."
"No, it is possible." Hermione opened the book, pointing to a page dense with text. "Polyjuice Potion. It allows you to turn into someone else. Think about it, if we turned into Crabbe and Goyle..."
Rove leaned in, staring at the illustration. To Hermione, it was a complex potion-making flowchart; but under Rove's System filter, it wasn't an ordinary recipe, but a dark blueprint depicting the twisted faces of Orcs, covered in forbidden runes.
> [High-Level Alchemy Recipe Detected: Orc Disguise Elixir]
> [Effect: Temporarily alters biological structure, simulating enemy race appearance.]
> [Principle: Consuming target's genetic sample (hair/nails) to undergo painful flesh reconstruction.]
> [Side Effects: Extreme nausea, pain, risk of permanent solidification.]
> [Note: Frodo and Sam used similar disguises to infiltrate Mordor. This is a suicide mission deep behind enemy lines.]
"Genius tactic." Rove spoke, his tone filled with fanatical admiration. "This is highest-level infiltration warfare."
All three looked at him with weird expressions.
"This is like Bilbo wearing the Ring to infiltrate the Lonely Mountain, or Rangers disguising as Easterlings to blend into the armies of Harad." Rove's eyes were shining as his finger traced the image on the page that looked like a pot of boiled sludge. "Although it's disgusting—I know what Orc armor smells like—in war, to gain intelligence, we must endure. For victory, a Ranger would even wear a Warg's skin."
"Er, it's not Orc armor, Rove," Hermione corrected, though she looked visibly relieved to have someone agree with her idea, she couldn't help but lecture. "It's a very difficult potion. We need lacewing flies, leeches, fluxweed... these are fine, they're in the student store cupboard."
"Leeches..." Ron made a gagging face. "We have to drink water boiled with leeches?"
"Necessary sacrifice, Sam." Rove patted Ron's shoulder. "Think of it as Dwarven spirits; burns the throat, but gives you courage."
Hermione's finger slid down the page, stopping at a few lines.
"But these..." Hermione bit her lip. "Powdered bicorn horn, and shredded skin of a boomslang. These are only in Snape's private stores."
Harry and Ron sucked in a breath.
"Snape?" Ron's face went pale, his voice cracking. "Steal from Snape? That's suicide! He'll chop us into potion ingredients!"
"Stealing from Saruman's armory," Rove corrected, his expression graver than ever. "That Black Robed Mage has extremely high perception. His dungeon is his Wizard Tower, full of magical traps and alarms. A frontal assault is impossible; we'd be turned into toads or fed directly to Dementors."
"So we need a plan." Hermione looked at them, eyes flickering. "Harry, Ron, you cause chaos in Potions class... no, too dangerous. If you get caught..."
"Let me."
Rove suddenly stood up straight.
"You?" Hermione's eyes widened. "Are you crazy, Rove? That's Snape! If he catches you..."
"I didn't say I'd steal." Rove shook his head, a sly smile appearing on his lips. "I will perform a tactical feint."
He pulled something rock-hard and compressed biscuit-looking from his pocket. It was his own failed "Lembas" bread.
"I will create an 'accident'." Rove explained. "An accident big enough and chaotic enough to draw his attention completely. Like challenging at the Black Gate to give the Ring-bearer a chance to slip into Mount Doom."
"What will you do?" Harry asked, worried yet curious.
"That's classified tactics." Rove winked mysteriously. "But I can reveal a bit: when 'Lembas' bread meets a certain unstable potion, it creates a wondrous chemical reaction—or rather, an alchemical explosion. Professor Snape will be busy saving his classroom, with no time to mind his storeroom."
"But you'll be punished!" Harry said worriedly. "Snape will give you detention, maybe even expel you! He's always wanted a reason to kick you out."
"Punishment?" Rove smiled contemptuously, lifting his head. "Compared to the survival of Middle-earth, what is mere detention? If my detention can buy an intelligence breakthrough, it's a bargain. Even if he makes me scrub cauldrons for a year, I won't hesitate."
He looked at Hermione with the trust of a comrade-in-arms.
"I trust our Chief Alchemist can complete the mission in that window. You only need five minutes, right?"
Hermione looked at Rove, touched by his unreserved trust. She took a deep breath, nodded firmly, the hesitation in her eyes gone. "As long as he's busy dealing with the chaos, I can get it. I just need five minutes."
"Then it's settled."
Rove extended his hand, palm down, hovering in mid-air.
"To find the truth. To protect the Shire."
Harry, Ron, and Hermione looked at each other.
They stacked their hands on top.
"For Hogwarts," Harry said.
"For... not drinking leech water," Ron added quietly, but pressed his hand down firmly.
"For the truth," Hermione said resolutely.
Just then, a shrill, mournful voice drifted from a nearby stall, breaking the solemn atmosphere.
"Are you plotting something bad? Or is someone going to die again?"
Moaning Myrtle floated out of a toilet, her translucent body swaying in the air as she adjusted her thick glasses. She looked at the pile of hands with a hint of interest.
"Don't worry, Ghost Lady." Rove turned around. "We are merely preparing for a... masquerade ball. A slightly dangerous ball held to save this castle. And you, are our most honored witness."
Myrtle paused.
"Oh... no one's ever spoken to me like that," she floated bashfully back to the cistern. "Well, just don't blow up the toilet."
As the quartet disbanded to prepare their materials, a line of blood-red system notifications popped up before Rove's eyes:
> [Mission Update: Operation Polyjuice]
> [Phase 1: Tactical Feint (In Preparation)]
> [Target: Severus Snape's Attention]
> [Tactical Codename: Battle of the Black Gate]
> [Difficulty: Nightmare]
> [Note: Good luck, Ranger. You are about to face the wrath of a Potions Master, which burns hotter than dragon fire.]