By the time Link sat together with Emily again, it was already the morning of the third day after the Christmas Ball.
It wasn't because Link hadn't gone looking for her, or because he wasn't paying attention.
It was Emily who was deliberately avoiding Link.
Every time Emily caught sight of Link, she got so nervous she couldn't help herself, wishing she could vanish on the spot.
This time was no different.
As soon as Link sat down beside Emily, ready to enjoy breakfast, her originally relaxed body instantly tensed up. She lowered her head, and her hands twisted at her robes so hard they almost tore.
"Emily, why is your face so red? Are you sick?"
Link, as if it were the most natural thing in the world, put his hand on Emily's thigh as he spoke.
But the moment his hand landed, Emily sprang up like a frightened rabbit, bolted out of the Great Hall, and didn't even touch her breakfast.
The scene left Link, as well as John and Cedric who had followed behind, completely dumbfounded.
A long while later, Cedric cautiously asked Link, "What on earth did you do? Why is she so angry?"
"Angry?" Link said in surprise. "Why do you think that?"
"Her reaction was that strong, wasn't that anger?"
John leaned in too.
But Link just shook his head with a smile and didn't explain further.
Only guys like John and Cedric, who knew absolutely nothing about women, would think Emily was angry.
And only someone like Snape, who had been a lifelong solo since the womb, would believe that what Link did with Emily in the bushes at the Christmas Ball was nothing more than pure animal lust exploding.
But in reality, Link wasn't that impatient.
The reason Link unexpectedly did what he did was entirely to make Emily understand that he truly longed for her.
For young couples, liking usually starts with physical attraction. As for deep soul-bonds and lifelong companionship, those belong to old married couples or the rare extraordinary individual.
So if a woman's fiancé, when they're about to get engaged or married, still treats her like a guest at a dinner table, then there's definitely a problem.
Link had made this exact mistake earlier.
In order not to break their contract, he had forcefully suppressed his own desires and deliberately avoided too much physical contact with Emily.
And what was the result? Emily didn't appreciate it.
On the contrary, she took it as a sign that Link didn't really like her, which even made her feel inferior. That's why she encouraged Link to dance with Fleur and Hermione at the Christmas Ball.
Even though it stung, it wasn't a bad tactic to keep her husband's heart.
Plenty of noblewomen used this method once they grew old and lost their looks.
So when Link realized what Emily was thinking, he immediately switched tactics and dutifully fulfilled his role as her soon-to-be fiancé.
And the outcome was perfect.
Emily loved that kind of behavior from Link. She regained confidence in her own charm, stopped overthinking, and instead was so flustered she didn't dare stay too close to Link, terrified he might really lose control and eat her up.
It wasn't that Emily was unwilling to let Link "eat," but that she was afraid of breaking the contract, which might prevent them from ever being able to have each other in the future.
Days like this suited Link just fine.
Satisfied, he nodded, took a big bite of sausage, then slid his plate aside to make room for the swarm of owls swooping over the Great Hall to drop packages onto the tables.
When the owls had whooshed past, two packages lay before Link.
One was the Daily Prophet. The other was from Mrs. Flamel.
Link could already guess why.
This was most likely the result of Emily, worried out of her mind, writing home to complain to Mrs. Flamel.
Smiling faintly, he ignored Mrs. Flamel's package and first tore open the Daily Prophet.
And then his smile widened even further.
Because today's front-page headline was none other than the story of Professor Hagrid and Beauxbatons headmistress Madame Maxime meeting secretly at the Christmas Ball.
The article laid out the romance between Hagrid and Maxime in detail.
Normally, gossip like this wouldn't even qualify for the front page.
But this article also exposed Hagrid's half-giant heritage, recounted how he had been expelled from Hogwarts years ago for illegally keeping dangerous creatures, and even brought up how, just last year, he recklessly taught students about blast-ended skrewts and hippogriffs, resulting in Draco Malfoy getting injured.
After such dramatic retelling, the article painted Hagrid as utterly incompetent, and claimed that the only reason he had ever become a professor was pure favoritism from Dumbledore.
In the process, what began as tabloid scandal had been turned into a full-on attack piece against both Hagrid and Dumbledore.
And of course, the author was none other than Rita Skeeter.
When John and Cedric finished reading, they were fuming. Together with a group of equally outraged students, they stormed off toward Dumbledore's office, eager to speak in Hagrid's defense.
To them, Hagrid might indeed be a bit weak as a teacher, but he was still a good one.
And as for Hagrid's romance with Madame Maxime, they simply thought it was glorious for Hogwarts.
Link's reaction was different.
After a quick read-through, he sat back and happily read it again in detail.
Because, truth be told, Rita Skeeter's writing was excellent, gripping, even better than Lockhart the so-called real novelist.
As for Hagrid, Link wasn't worried at all.
Hagrid was one of Dumbledore's most loyal people in the Order of the Phoenix, and no pushover in combat either.
So he might be temporarily suspended, but he'd never be expelled or banished from Hogwarts.
Since no real harm would come of it, Link was content to let things be.
In fact, he even thought a little hardship might be good for Hagrid, teach him a lesson or two.
After finishing the last bite of mashed potatoes, Link finally folded up the paper.
At that moment, a steaming cup of warm milk appeared before him right on cue.
He didn't drink it, but turned his head.
And there was Percy's face, smiling obsequiously.
"Percy, what's the matter?"
Wiping his mouth with a napkin, Link drawled.
"Mr. Flamel, ever since our talk at the Christmas Ball, I've been following your instructions, focusing on working for Mr. Crouch."
"But in the process, I've been surprised to find that Mr. Crouch seems to be secretly up to something. I think this might be useful to you and Minister Fudge."
"Oh? What kind of plot?"
Percy gave a mysterious smile, pulled a notebook from his robes, and handed it to Link before explaining, "This is the work journal I've kept to better assist Mr. Crouch. It contains many records of his activities."
Link opened it at once.
After only a few pages, he looked up at Percy with a strange expression.
Percy was being far too modest.
The notebook not only documented Crouch's official duties but also included the times he ate, how many meals, how often he went to the bathroom, what drinks he had, everything, written out in more detail than Crouch's own diary.
"Heh! What you're looking for is at the very back, I've already summarized it all there."
Excited, Percy helped Link flip through the pages, adding, "It's actually pretty simple. I found that recently Mr. Crouch shows no interest in work, he pushes almost everything onto me."
"And yet, he acts incredibly busy, frowning constantly, utterly exhausted. Sometimes when he comes back, he even has injuries."
"And his family used to have a house-elf named Winky. But ever since the Quidditch World Cup, that elf has vanished. I suspect Mr. Crouch sent it on a secret mission."
"Judging from the situation, there must be quite a number of people involved. They're surely preparing some big move. And the target, could very well be Minister Fudge!"
By the end, Percy's voice had dropped to a whisper, but Link could feel his excitement in every word.
And with good reason, if Crouch really were plotting against Fudge, then Percy, as the informant, would be lavishly rewarded by the Minister.
Unfortunately for him, Link knew the truth.
Crouch's weariness was entirely because of his son, the younger Barty Crouch, who had been rescued by Death Eaters.
Even so, Percy's intel confirmed Link's earlier suspicion, Crouch definitely knew something.
Looks like it's time to have a proper talk with old Crouch.
So Link thought, as he casually tucked the notebook into his robes.
Seeing this, Percy immediately realized that his information had at least some value, and his joy was evident, though he tried hard to appear calm, making his expression rather twisted.
Link chuckled, letting his eyes sweep over Percy's shabby, faded school robe, then placed a heavy bag of coins on the table.
"Good work. Here's a hundred Galleons. Go order yourself a decent set of dress robes from Twilfitt and Tattings. When you become Minister Fudge's private secretary, you can't show up without proper clothes."
"Yes, Mr. Flamel!"
Percy bowed gratefully.
But Link didn't spare him another glance, he picked up Mrs. Flamel's package and headed straight for the Room of Requirement.
Only after Link's figure disappeared completely from the hall did Percy finally straighten, and then pounce on the bag of Galleons like a starving dog on a bone.
He carefully opened it.
At once, dazzling golden light shone onto his greedy, frozen face.
As a Weasley, he had grown up never owning, hardly even seeing, so much gold.
———
What impact that casually tossed bag of Galleons would have on Percy, Link did not know.
While Percy was still lost in admiring the coins, Link had already entered the Room of Requirement and opened Mrs. Flamel's package.
As expected, the first thing that appeared was a howler, specially enchanted.
The red envelope folded itself into a mouth, floated before Link, and began scolding him for his audacity with women.
The words were harsh, harshest Link had ever heard in his life.
But partway through, Mrs. Flamel seemed unable to keep up the act. She broke into a laugh, cut off the recording spell, then after a pause, resumed to throw in a couple more playful scoldings before it ended.
Looking at the howler as it fell silent, Link laughed as well.
Mrs. Flamel's wit was indeed remarkable.
Just from Emily's letter of complaint, she had instantly grasped her son's true intentions, and even cooperated by sending this howler.
'What a good mother!'
Link sighed, then carefully put the howler away.
He planned to use it to coax Emily later.
Otherwise, the silly girl might really avoid him for months.
But just as he pocketed the howler, an old book with a black cover appeared before him.
"Secrets of the Most Advanced Dark Arts?"
Link slowly read the Latin title on the cover, then his face lit with joy.
Secrets of the Most Advanced Dark Arts was a true forbidden text. Voldemort had learned how to create Horcruxes from it.
Beyond that, it detailed blood-flesh rituals, life-forbidden fusions, evil spirit summonings, curses, and much more of the most advanced dark magic.
Most importantly, it even contained the casting methods for the three Unforgivable Curses.
Link had discovered this book once in the Flamel castle library and had wanted badly to study it, to become a wizard capable of casting the Killing Curse.
But the shelf was sealed with powerful wards, and Mrs. Flamel had forbidden him from delving too deeply into dark magic. So it became a regret.
Now, to his surprise, Mrs. Flamel had mailed him the book directly.
Without hesitation, Link opened it.
And soon found it was only a replica of the one in the castle library. What's more, most of the taboo rituals, including life-fusion, had been blacked out.
The only legible spells left were the three Unforgivable Curses, Fiendfyre, and a handful of relatively harmless dark magics.
Link understood at once.
This was his reward for proving his maturity and skill.
Mrs. Flamel must have felt he still wasn't developed enough to handle everything, so she gave half and hid half.
Even so, Link was more than satisfied.
Because even with what remained, his combat strength would rise another tier.
The three Unforgivable Curses went without saying. Moody had already taught them in detail in class.
But Fiendfyre, that was different.
In terms of destructive power, it was like a nuclear bomb.
It could summon a vast cursed fire, alive and raging.
The flames would take the form of animals, burning everything they could, enemy or not, and grow stronger through the burning itself.
In theory, this strengthening had no upper limit.
Which meant that under the right conditions, Fiendfyre could consume the entire world.
And most crucially, because of its cursed nature, Fiendfyre could destroy Horcruxes.
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