Snape, usually a man of impenetrable composure, now looked as if his eyes were about to pop out of his skull.
He had never, in all his scholarly life, seen a Patronus eat a Dementor.
After studying the great tiger for a long moment, Snape said coldly, "Not bad, Mr. Potter. In the nearly two years I have known you, you have finally, for once, impressed me."
"Albeit, your Patronus is... special, using 'consumption' to destroy a Dementor."
Harry, however, knew the truth. The Dementor was not destroyed. It was just... curled up, subdued, inside the tiger.
Back on Mount Erlong, Brother Zhishen told this one that those killed by tigers become 'Chang' ghosts (伥鬼), forced to serve the tiger that ate them. This is 'Wei Hu Zuo Chang' (To be a tiger's ghost-servant).
This Dementor... has it now become some kind of 'Dementor-Chang'?
Harry willed the Dementor-Chang to make trouble. The tiger, as if reading his mind, opened its mouth and spat out the black mist, which reformed and shot straight at Snape.
Snape's face changed. "Expecto Patronum!" His silver doe appeared. "Potter! What did you do?!"
"Aiya, Professor, do not blame me. This one does not know."
Harry feigned surprise and slipped over to Snape's potions cabinet. It was locked.
But Harry was not worried. He plucked a single hair from his temple, straightened it, and slid it into the lock.
His fingers moved, picking the lock as smooth as flowing water.
(A poem for the occasion):
His ear listens to the tumblers' sound,
A single hair, the lock's heart found.
Left three, right four, a gentle pick,
He lifts and presses, quick, quick, quick!
The hair seemed to have a mind of its own. Click. The lock sprang open, faster than a key.
This skill, readers, Harry had learned on Liangshan, from the "Flea on a Drum," Shi Qian, a master of thievery. Harry had saved Shi Qian's life, and in return, Shi Qian had taught him his "low-class" skills.
Harry opened the cabinet. Lacewing flies, Fluxweed, dried snakeskin... He was dazzled. Not knowing what was needed, he just stuffed a bit of everything into his robes.
Then, he took out a pouch of a hundred Galleons and tossed it into a dark corner.
By the time he was done, the doe had dispersed the Dementor. The tiger then opened its mouth and inhaled all the dark mist again.
"Potter!" Snape was furious. "What tricks are you playing?!"
"I have never seen a Patronus that can imprison a Dementor!"
Harry cupped his hands. "This one learned this spell from the Professor. If it now has some strange new tricks, why does the Professor not examine himself, instead of bothering this one?"
"Very well," Snape sneered. "Are you questioning my teaching?"
"Professor, this one said no such thing."
Harry just shook his head, playing dumb. Snape, realizing he'd get nowhere, threw open the door. "Please leave, Mr. Potter. The next time we meet, we will begin Occlumency."
"I hope, by then, you can... hide... all those little thoughts in your head!"
Harry snorted, gave a salute, and left.
Back in the common room, Ron and Hermione were dozing by the fire.
"Harry, what did Dumbledore say?"
"Is the Chamber really open?"
Harry quieted them and pulled the ingredients from his robes.
Hermione gasped. "Harry, where did you get these?"
"From Snape's cabinet, of course."
He explained the lock-picking, leaving them speechless.
Harry's skillset is... too diverse. Strategy, butchery, forensics, and now... thievery.
Ron looked complex. "Harry... are you sure you're not a reincarnated ancient wizard? Did you forget to drink the 'Granny Meng's' Soup of Forgetfulness?"
Harry laughed. "This one truly did not drink that soup."
Hermione, meanwhile, was checking the ingredients. "We're lucky. Boomslang skin, Bicorn horn... the rarest ones are all here."
"If all goes well, we should have the Polyjuice Potion by Christmas."
Harry was shocked. "Why so long? A whole month?"
Hermione held up the recipe. "It can't be helped. The Lacewing flies have to be stewed for twenty-one days."
Harry thought: This potion is a time-waster. By the time it's done, that scoundrel might have killed half the students.
He felt a sense of urgency.
The next day at noon, Harry went straight to the Headmaster's office.
"Professor, did you find out? Is Dobby connected to the Malfoys?"
Dumbledore looked up. "You were right, Harry. Dobby is, indeed, the Malfoy family's house-elf."
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