Chapter 61: Theory of Magical Environments and the Targeted Time
Night.
The Great Hall of Hogwarts was brightly lit, and the golden plates seemed exceptionally warm on this wind-swept and rainy night.
The Sorting Ceremony had just ended, and Dumbledorewas delivering a warning about the Dementors.
"...They are stationed at every entrance to the school. While they have promised not to disrupt our daily activities, I must warn you: Dementors are not to be fooled by smooth talk..."
At the Slytherin long table.
Moen White was elegantly cutting a medium-rare steak. He appeared to be listening, but was actually checking the system logs on his retina.
[Ding!]
[High Magic Environment Detected: Hogwarts Great Hall]
[Magic Concentration: Extremely High]
[Today's Check-in Successful!]
[Reward Obtained: Draw Count +1]
[Current Remaining Draws: 3]
He originally had 2 on the train, used 1 just now to analyze the Dementor but didn't draw, so with +1, he had 3 in total.
Morrin looked at the pitiful number "3" and sighed in his heart.
"As expected, only after returning to school does this damn system truly become 'powered up'."
He mentally reviewed his gains from the summer vacation.
In the mansion in the Muggle world, no matter how he checked in, the system always gave trash like [10,000 GBP], [Stamina Potion (Small)], [wolfsbane potionImprovement], or R&D progress for the [Black SwanMass Production Line].
In Diagon Alley and at the factory, the dozen or so opportunities he had painstakingly saved up were all dumped into the R&D of the [Black Swan Mass Production Line].
"High technology is a gold-devouring beast, and high-magic Alchemy is a black hole that devours 'draws'."
Morrin forked a piece of beef and put it into his mouth.
Now that he was back at Hogwarts, a massive magic node, his 'daily allowance' was finally stable.
"I still need to save up," Morrin thought to himself. "I need at least 20 draws before I dare to make a move on that thing."
His gaze passed through the crowd, over the Ravenclawtable, and landed precisely at the edge of the Gryffindortable.
There, Hermione Granger was hurriedly piling potatoes onto her plate, her expression anxious, as if she were worried about missing her classes.
And at her neckline, a long gold chain was faintly visible, with a small, glittering hourglass hanging from it.
A time-turner.
That was a strategic-level alchemical item strictly controlled by the Ministry of Magic. It contained the most mysterious and dangerous [Laws of Time].
"Hermione," Morrin narrowed his eyes.
In the original story, Professor McGonagall applied for this artifact to help Hermione attend all her elective courses.
This was simply a waste of a god-tier item.
Using an artifact that could reverse causality just to attend Divination Class and Muggle Studies Class?
"This is a massive waste of resources."
Morrin's fingers lightly tapped the tabletop.
"If I could draw [Time Rewind] or [Time Stop]..."
But he knew that things involving laws were extremely difficult to draw. A single draw would definitely be a waste; he had to rely on [Probability Stacking].
"It looks like I'll have to find an opportunity to borrow that turner for a few days to'study' it," Morrin planned in his mind.
Just then, Dumbledore finished his speech.
"Finally, I am also pleased to announce that this year's Defense Against the Dark Arts class will be taught by Professor Remus Lupin."
Scattered applause broke out. Lupin's patched robes were indeed not very respectable.
"Additionally, the Care of Magical Creatures class will be filled by Rubeus Hagrid."
The applause this time was much more enthusiastic, especially from the Gryffindor side.
Hagrid was flushed red, his massive beard soaked with tears.
"Hagrid as a Professor?" Malfoy sneered nearby. "That big oaf? I thought he'd been expelled. My father says..."
"Draco."
Morrin interrupted him, his tone flat.
"Hagrid is now my supplier for magical creature materials. Show him some respect."
"And..." Morrin glanced at Hagrid's massive frame, "if you don't want your ribs kicked in by a Hippogriff in the first lesson, you'd better drop that noble act of yours."
Malfoy shrunk his neck back. "I understand, Morrin."
The feast ended.
Students poured out of the Great Hall.
Morrin deliberately slowed his pace. In the crowded throng, he 'inadvertently' walked behind Hermione.
Hermione was discussing Hagrid's new class with Harryand Ron.
"This is great!" Harry said.
"Yeah, as long as he doesn't bring anything that can bite our heads off," Ron said worriedly.
As Morrin passed Hermione, he gave his cane a light flick. An extremely faint thread of magic silently coiled around the gold chain at Hermione's neckline.
[Marking Successful.]
Morrin didn't make a move to snatch it now.
Doing it in public would be too low-class.
He just made a mark so he could monitor the location of this 'asset' at any time.
"Good evening, Miss Granger."
Morrin gave a polite greeting as he passed.
"Ah! Good evening, Morrin." Hermione was startled, instinctively clutching the time-turner at her collar.
"Don't be nervous." Morrin smiled with the gentleness of a hunter looking at prey. "There are many courses this semester; take care of yourself. Don't exhaust yourself for the sake of classes... or lose yourself in time."
Hermione's face went pale instantly.
He knew?! How did he know?
Before Hermione could ask, Morrin had already walked away with Malfoy.
"He knows about the time-turner," Hermione whispered to Harry, her voice trembling. "Nothing can be hidden from him."
"Ignore him." Harry looked at Morrin's back with disgust. "He just wants to show off that he knows everything. We just need to stay away from him."
...Slytherin Common Room.
Back in the dungeons, Morrin sat on his exclusive 'throne'.
The common room was warm and dry.
"System, check current inventory."
[Draw Count: 3]
[Held Items: Dementor Slices, High-Purity Wolfsbane Potion, Polyjuice Potion...]
"It's not enough."
Morrin listed his plans in his mind.
time-turner: Needs at least 20 draw opportunities for pity-stacking. This requires 20 days of check-ins, or finding new high-magic nodes to check in.
marauders map: In the hands of the Weasley Twins. That thing can monitor the whole school; I must get it or make a copy.
Sirius Black: That big dog should be near Hogwarts by now. I need to find a way to 'reunite' him with Peter.
"Things must be done one by one."
Morrin pulled back his thoughts.
"Tomorrow is the first Divination Class and Care of Magical Creatures class."
"I've heard Professor Trelawney is an old fraud, but her [True Prophecy] talent is top-tier 'Golden Legend' quality. Although uncontrollable, it's worth trying my luck."
Morrin stood up and walked toward the dormitory.
Chapter 62: The Dead Dog in the Tea Leaves and the Hippogriff
The next day, morning.
At the top of the North Tower at Hogwarts, the air was stiflingly hot.
At the end of the silver ladder leading to the Divination Class classroom was an attic filled with the heavy scent of perfume and sherry.
The curtains were drawn tight, and the red light made the place look like a drowsy, cheap fortune-telling parlor.
Professor Sybill Trelawney, a small, thin woman wearing enormous magnifying spectacles and draped in countless shawls, was predicting in an ethereal, trembling voice that Neville Longbottom would break a teacup.
"Is this the Divination Class?"
Moen White sat on a cushioned round chair in the back row, holding an unclean teacup, his brow furrowed.
"It's simply a waste of life."
He activated [True Sight], his gaze cutting through the swirling incense smoke and landing on Trelawney.
[Scan Target]: Sybill Trelawney
[Danger Level]: Low (Normal) / Extremely High (Prophecy State)
[Traits Discovered]: [Gold] True Prophecy: Capable of glimpsing fragments of the river of time and making prophecies that are bound to come true. (This trait is passively triggered and cannot be actively controlled by the host. Most of the time, she is just a charlatan, but on very rare occasions, she is the mouthpiece of fate.) [White] Dramatic Personality: She likes to scare students.
"Gold..." Morrin's fingers rubbed the rim of the teacup.
Although it was Gold, the flaw of being "uncontrollable" was too significant.
If he were to extract it and start rolling his eyes and babbling nonsense from time to time, it would really ruin his image as a mastermind.
"Forget it, I'll leave it for now. Once I've saved up enough attempts, I might be able to improve it with Alchemy."
At that moment, an exclamation came from the front of the classroom.
Ron was holding Harry's teacup, his face full of terror.
Professor Trelawney leaned over, let out a shrill scream, and plopped down into her chair.
"I cannot bear to say it... it is... the Grim!"
"What is it?" Harry asked nervously.
"It is a giant dog that roams the great graveyard! It is an omen of death!" Trelawney said, trembling.
The whole class fell into a deathly silence. Everyone couldn't help but think of the escaped convict, Sirius Black.
"I think it's just a clump of undissolved tea leaves, Professor."
A calm voice broke the terrifying atmosphere.
Morrin stood up, his black ironwood wand gently brushing aside the beaded curtain blocking his path, and walked to Harry's table.
He did not sit at the low table, but instead looked down at the teacup from a standing position.
"From the perspective of Alchemical geometric composition," Morrin said indifferently, "this looks more like... a malnourished sheep. Or someone's poor imagination."
"How dare you question the Inner Eye!" Trelawney was so angry that her glasses were crooked.
"I only believe in data, Professor." Morrin pushed the teacup back to Harry, his eyes cold. "If death were truly so easily predicted by a few tea leaves, what would be the point of Azkaban?"
"Let's go, Draco." Morrin glanced at the time. "The oxygen level in this place is too low; it will affect brain development."
He walked out of the classroom with Malfoy.
Harry looked at the dregs in the cup. Although Morrin's words were harsh, the inexplicable fear in his heart had dissipated quite a bit.
"He's right," Hermione said, packing up her bag. "This is complete nonsense."
...
In the afternoon, on the grassy edge of the Forbidden Forest.
The air was fresh, and the sun was bright. It was a stark contrast to the stifling heat of the Divination Class.
Hagrid was wearing his massive moleskin coat, waiting with excitement for his first group of students.
Behind him in the paddock were tethered a dozen strange-looking beasts: Hippogriffs.
They had massive eagle heads, sharp orange eyes, and steel-like talons, but their hindquarters were those of a horse.
"Beautiful, aren't they?" Hagrid roared. "Come on, closer! Who wants to come and pet them first?"
Everyone was shrinking back, except for Harry, who steeled himself and walked forward.
"Listen, they are very proud," Hagrid warned. "Don't you ever insult them; it's the last thing you'd ever want to do."
Harry succeeded.
He bowed, and the beast named Buckbeak bowed back, even letting Harry ride him for a lap.
The Gryffindors cheered.
"What's so hard about that?" Malfoy watched Harry show off with jealousy. He shoved Goyle aside and strode towards Buckbeak, who was eating a dead ferret.
"I've got it, you ugly big brute!" Malfoy shouted arrogantly. "You're not dangerous at all, are you? You..."
"Screech—!"
The sound of steel talons tearing through the air. Buckbeakwas enraged.
Its massive eagle head jerked up, its sharp talons gleaming with a cold light, and it swung violently down at Malfoy's chest!
If that blow had landed, Malfoy would definitely have been disemboweled.
"Ah—!" Hermione screamed.
Hagrid was still far away and couldn't reach them in time to rescue him.
Malfoy was frozen in terror. He watched the descending talons, his mind a complete blank.
Just at this critical moment.
Boom!
A black figure cut between the man and the beast like lightning.
He didn't use a spell.
Moen White held his black ironwood wand in one hand, not drawing it, but instead using the iron-hard wand shaft to forcefully block Buckbeak's talon, which was capable of tearing through rock!
Clang!
The sound of metal striking metal. Morrin's feet sank deep into the soil, but he didn't step back an inch.
"Kneel!"
Morrin lifted his head, and in that instant, his pupils turned into golden slit pupils.
[Dragon Might (Blue, Growth Type)]— Full power outburst!
[Magical Creature Affinity (Purple)]— Reverse intimidation!
A terrifying aura, originating from a top-tier predator and countless levels higher than a Hippogriff, erupted from Morrin.
At that moment, Buckbeak no longer saw a human teenager. Instead, it saw a roaring dragon, its body burning with Alchemical fire!
The fear from deep within its bloodline overwhelmed its anger. Buckbeak let out a shrill, mournful cry, and its originally fierce gaze instantly shattered.
It retracted its talons, its legs went weak, and right in front of everyone, it flopped onto the ground like a frightened chick, burying its head deep into its wings.
The whole scene was dead silent. Morrin retracted his wand and shook his slightly numb wrist.
He turned around and looked at Malfoy, who was slumped on the ground, having wet himself from fear.
Slap!
A loud slap. Morrin backhanded Malfoy across the face, snapping him out of his stupor.
"Fool."
Morrin's voice was cold as ice:
"How many times have I taught you? Before you have absolute power to suppress something, do not try to provoke anything that you think you can control but is actually deadly."
"If it had killed you, it would just be an 'occupational accident.' Hagrid would be fired, and I would lose a supplier of magical creatures."
Morrin bent down, grabbed Malfoy by the collar, and hauled him up:
"You almost ruined my business, Draco."
Malfoy covered his face, looking into Morrin's cold eyes. Tears streamed down his face, but he didn't even dare to cry out loud. "S-sorry, Morrin..."
At this moment, Hagrid finally ran over, his face covered in cold sweat.
"Good heavens! Morrin! Are you alright? Is Malfoy alright?"
"He's fine, just a bit shaken," Morrin said, tossing Malfoy to Goyle who had rushed over. "Take him to the Hospital Wing and have him drink some Calming Draught. Don't let him talk nonsense."
Morrin turned his head to look at Hagrid, and then at Buckbeak, who was still trembling.
"Hagrid, as an investor, I have a suggestion for you."
Morrin straightened his slightly ruffled trench coat:
"Before the next class, feed these big guys some sleeping pills. Or..."
Morrin's fingers gently brushed across Buckbeak's feathers, and the beast trembled, becoming even more docile.
"...or train them to be a bit more obedient."
Chapter 63: The Nightmare of Mediocrity and the Fear of Being "Formatted"
[Ding!]
[Special Node Detected: Edge of the Forbidden Forest / Magical Creatures Paddock]
[Sign-in successful!]
[Reward obtained: Extraction attempts +1]
[Current attempts: 4]
Morrin glanced at the system panel, the corners of his mouth curling slightly.
"This Buckbeak is not bad. Hagrid, if you don't have time to take care of it, I don't mind taking it to my private manor."
Hagrid was stunned: "Ah? But it belongs to the school..."
"It won't be for long," Morrin said meaningfully.
Because he knew that even if Malfoy didn't complain, Lucius would never let the matter drop once he found out.
An "ownership lawsuit" regarding this Hippogriff was about to begin.
And this was the perfect opportunity for Morrin to intervene and "privatize" it.
"Class dismissed."
Morrin waved his hand and led the Slytherin students away from the paddock.
Harry stood in place, looking at Morrin's back, then at Buckbeak, who was too scared to lift its head.
"He's scarier than a monster," Ron swallowed hard.
"No," Hermione said thoughtfully, "he's stronger than a monster."
October, late autumn.
The Staff Room had been cleared out, leaving only an old wardrobe, the temporary home of the Boggart. The wardrobe was shaking, with thumping sounds coming from inside.
"Don't worry," Professor Lupin said gently; he looked much better than at the start of the term, thanks to the high-purity wolfsbane potion provided by Morrin. "Inside is just a Boggart. It's a Shapeshifter that turns into what you fear most."
The Gryffindor and Slytherin students crowded together. Neville Longbottom's face turned pale with fear.
"Longbottom, you go first," Lupin encouraged.
The subsequent events were as comical as in the original story.
Neville feared Snape most, and the "Riddikulus" spell made Snape wear Neville's grandmother's unforgettable women's clothing, carrying a large red handbag and a hat topped with a stuffed vulture.
Roars of laughter.
"That's the secret to fighting a Boggart—laughter," Lupinpraised. "Next, Ron."
Ron faced a giant spider and put roller skates on it.
"Next... Mr. White."
Lupin suddenly called his name.
His gaze fell on Morrin, who was leaning against the wall, looking at the wardrobe with the eyes of someone inspecting merchandise.
Lupin was curious.
What did this young man, who sliced up Dementors, provided potions to Werewolves, and even controlled the school's public opinion to some extent, fear deep in his heart?
Was it Lord Voldemort?
Or something even darker?
The whole class went quiet.
Malfoy looked at Morrin somewhat nervously: "Boss, if you're scared, I'll let Crabbe take your place."
"Scared?"
Morrin chuckled, adjusted the collar of his trench coat, and walked elegantly to the wardrobe, leaning on his black ironwood wand.
"Fear is a defense mechanism of the brain, Draco. Only by facing it can you dismantle it."
Morrin stood before the wardrobe in a posture of absolute confidence.
"Come out," Morrin said calmly.
The wardrobe door popped open again.
The spider with roller skates disappeared.
A cloud of black smoke rolled in place, seemingly struggling to read Morrin's thoughts.
The [Multiple Mind Core (Purple)] was running frantically like layers of firewalls, wrapping Morrin's true emotions. The Boggart was confused; it couldn't find a clear entity of fear.
Finally, it seemed to find a crack in the deepest part of Morrin's soul—in his memories from before the reincarnation.
*Poof.*
The black smoke dissipated.
Neither Lord Voldemort nor a corpse appeared.
What appeared before everyone was an office desk.
The desk was piled high with never-ending documents, and a cup of cheap instant coffee sat beside them.
Behind the desk sat a middle-aged man in a cheap suit, with a receding hairline and hollow, numb eyes.
The man was mechanically tapping on a keyboard—it was... Morrin from his past life, mediocre, powerless, a corporate slave until the end.
That "middle-aged Morrin" looked up, staring at the current Morrin with dead-fish eyes, opened his mouth, and spoke in an utterly exhausted voice:
"This is the end... You can't escape... In this life, you're just an insignificant cog..."
The whole class was stunned.
They didn't understand. What kind of monster was this? A balding middle-aged man? What was there to be afraid of?
Only Morrin.
His pupils suddenly constricted to the size of pinpricks.
His originally indifferent hands gripped the wand tightly, his knuckles turning white.
Mediocrity.
Losing power.
Losing control.
Becoming just another replaceable protagonist among the masses.
This was his greatest nightmare. It was also the root of his frantic pursuit of money, power, and traits.
"A very interesting choice of topic."
Morrin's voice became extremely cold, a chilling frost below zero.
"You use this method to remind me that if I lose, if I stop moving forward, I'll turn back into that trash, is that it?"
Morrin didn't raise his wand to chant "Riddikulus."
Because he didn't find it funny. Not funny at all.
He suddenly raised his right hand.
He didn't use a wand; instead, he spread his five fingers and aimed directly at the "middle-aged man."
[Gate of Truth (Gold)] — Concept Erasure · Matter Pulverization.
[Half-Giant Bloodline] — Magic Outburst.
"This kind of future..."
A golden fire of rage ignited in Morrin's eyes:
"...I refuse to accept!"
"Begone!"
BOOM—!!!
No incantation was spoken.
A terrifying, visible golden shockwave erupted from Morrin's palm.
That wasn't a transformation spell for the Boggart; it was a pure, destructive torrent of magic.
The "middle-aged man," the office desk, and even the Boggart itself disintegrated instantly in this golden torrent.
"Screech—!!!"
The Boggart let out a shrill scream.
It wasn't "laughed away"; it was "blasted apart."
It turned into wisps of blue smoke, desperately trying to flee back into the wardrobe as if it were the safest refuge in the world.
*Bang!*
The wardrobe door slammed shut.
The entire wardrobe was still shaking violently; the Boggart was shivering in fear.
A deathly silence filled the classroom.
Professor Lupin looked at Morrin in shock.
He had never seen anyone pass the Boggart's test in such a way—not by overcoming fear, but by pulverizing it.
"A brilliant... release of magic," Lupin swallowed and led the applause, "though a bit... violent. Ten points to Slytherin."
Morrin withdrew his hand and adjusted his breathing, the golden light in his eyes gradually fading.
"Sorry, Professor," Morrin regained his elegant demeanor. "I have a bit of 'morning grumpiness.' I don't like seeing such tasteless things."
He walked back to the Slytherin group.
Malfoy looked at him in awe: "Morrin, who was that balding man? Was it your father?"
Morrin gave him a cold look: "That was a dead man. A dead man who will never appear again."
Chapter 64: The "Sinner" Who Broke Into the Castle
Halloween Eve.
Hogwarts was holding a grand banquet.
But for Harry, it was a bitter night.
Because he was the only student in the third year and above who could not go to Hogsmeade.
"How pitiful."
As Harry walked alone down the corridor, Morrin returned with a group of students carrying sweets and joke items.
"Want some?" Morrin handed Harry a box of Fizzing Whizbees.
"I don't need your pity," Harry said stiffly.
"It's not pity, it's an exchange." Morrin pointed at Harry's pocket, where the marauders map was hidden, though it hadn't been discovered yet. "Some things, if you don't know how to use them, are better off given to me."
Harry didn't understand and turned to run away.
After the banquet ended, the students returned to Gryffindor Tower.
But they were blocked outside.
"What's going on?" Harry squeezed into the crowd.
The portrait of the fat lady had been slashed. Shreds of canvas were scattered on the floor, and the fat lady was nowhere to be found.
"Someone broke in!" Percy shouted.
Dumbledore arrived. His expression was grim as he ordered Peeves to tell the truth.
"He was in a right old state," Peeves giggled. "Because the fat lady wouldn't let him in. That man with the messy, filthy hair..."
"Sirius Black."
A collective gasp went through the crowd.
That murderer! Right here in the Castle!
All students were urgently evacuated to the Great Hall to spend the night.
Amidst the chaos, Morrin White did not go to get a sleeping bag.
Standing in the shadows of a corner, he pulled an exquisite Silver Alchemy Plate from his robes.
On the surface of the plate, a red light was flashing frantically.
That was the location of Scabbers, Peter Pettigrew.
The light showed that the rat was neither in the Great Hallnor in Gryffindor Tower.
It was moving out of the Castle at extreme speed.
"That's more like it."
Morrin watched the light, a hunter's cold smile curling at the corner of his mouth.
"The rat has sensed the cat's scent; it's terrified and wants to flee."
"But, Peter."
Morrin put away the compass, his fingers stroking his cane.
"The collar around your neck isn't just an ornament."
He turned and walked toward Professor Snape, who was maintaining order.
"Professor," Morrin said in a low voice, "I think tonight is a good opportunity to catch the 'intruder.' Instead of running around the Castle like a headless fly, why not check the edge of the Forbidden Forest?"
"What do you know?" Snape narrowed his eyes.
"Intuition." Morrin pointed to his head. "Or... a certain 'prophecy.'"
"Professor Lupin seems very sensitive to that direction. Perhaps you could ask him about that touching 'friendship' between him and Black."
Morrin's attempt to sow discord was perfectly timed.
Snape's face instantly darkened, his Black robes billowing as he strode toward Lupin.
"The show begins."
Morrin looked at the chaotic Great Hall, found a comfortable sleeping bag, and lay down.
"Tonight, no one is getting a good night's sleep."
[Task Update: Capture Sirius Black (Misunderstanding Cleared/Vindication)]
[Task Update: Capture Peter Pettigrew (Key Witness)]
[Current Draw Count: 12]
"Still have to wait a bit." Morrin closed his eyes. "The best time to catch them all in one net is when that rat runs under the Whomping Willow."
The Great Hall.
Hundreds upon hundreds of purple sleeping bags covered the floor like a purple ocean.
The magical starry sky on the ceiling had been charmed to look exceptionally peaceful, but it could not soothe the fear in the students' hearts.
No one could sleep; whispers echoed through the hall like mosquitoes.
"Do you think Black is still in the Castle?"
"Maybe he turned into a ghost..."
In the Slytherin area, Morrin White hadn't crawled into a sleeping bag.
He was dressed in a neat shirt and trousers, draped in a heavy trench coat, leaning against a pillar and reading a document on the "History of Goblin Rebellions at Gringotts" by the dim candlelight.
Beside him, Draco was shivering inside his sleeping bag, his wand clutched tightly in his hand.
"Morrin..." Draco whispered, "Aren't you afraid? That murderer is right outside."
"Afraid?" Morrin turned a page, not looking up. "Draco, if Black came here to kill, he would have done it already. He shredded the portrait but didn't enter... he's looking for something specific."
"Something specific?"
"For example... a rat," Morrin said meaningfully.
Just then, a tossing and turning figure caught Morrin's attention.
In the Gryffindor area not far away, Harry Potter sat up.
He clearly couldn't sleep either.
Morrin closed his book, picked up his cane, stepped over several sleeping Hufflepuff students, and walked to Harry's side.
"Can't sleep? Mr. Savior."
Harry jumped, looking up to see it was Morrin, his expression complicated. "It's you... everyone's asleep."
"Only those with no worries can sleep." Morrin sat down on the empty floor next to Harry, his movements casual. "Thinking about Black?"
"He's looking for me." Harry clenched his fists. "I heard it, everyone says he wants to kill me to avenge Lord Voldemort."
"Is that so?"
Morrin gave a light chuckle, one tinged with a hint of mockery.
"Harry, use your brain. If he were a die-hard follower of Lord Voldemort, and if he were truly as mad and powerful as the legends say, he was in Azkaban for twelve years. Why didn't he escape sooner or later? Why this year of all years?"
Harry was stunned. "Be... because I started school?"
"You've been at Hogwarts for two years already," Morrinpointed out coldly. "Moreover, it's said that before he escaped, he asked Minister Fudge for a newspaper."
"A newspaper?"
"Exactly. A newspaper with a photo of The Weasley Familyon vacation in Egypt."
Morrin leaned forward slightly, staring into Harry's eyes as if guiding a lost child:
"What was in that photo? Besides The Weasley Family, there was a rat missing a toe."
A realization exploded in Harry's mind.
A rat? Scabbers?
He remembered the collar Morrin had put on Scabbers, and he remembered Morrin's constant hostility toward the rat.
"You mean..." Harry felt his throat go dry, "Black is after... Ron's rat?"
"It's just a businessman's speculation." Morrin stood up and brushed the dust off his trench coat. "The truth is often more absurd than rumors. Harry, sometimes the 'enemy' your eyes see might just be a scapegoated madman; while the 'pet' you hold in your arms might be the true demon."
"Get some sleep. The weather won't be very good for tomorrow's Quidditch match."
Morrin turned and left.
Leaving Harry sitting alone in the dark, looking at the rise and fall of Ron's sleeping bag nearby, feeling a chill run from the soles of his feet straight to the top of his head.
Chapter 65: "Product" Testing and Investment
The next day, at the Quidditch Pitch.
Wild winds and torrential rain.
This was the worst weather for a match in Hogwartshistory. Gryffindor was up against Hufflepuff, the team led by Cedric Diggory.
In the stands, umbrellas couldn't hold up at all, blown inside out in an instant.
Morrin sat at the very top of the Slytherin stands, where the view was best.
He didn't use an umbrella.
[Gate of Truth (Gold)]— Airflow Manipulation.
All the rainwater automatically slid away three inches from his body, forming a vacuum-like dry field.
He could even elegantly sip hot coffee from a thermos.
"This is pure torture!" Malfoy, wearing a raincoat, shouted from beside him. "Potter will definitely lose! He won't be able to see a thing through his glasses in this rain!"
"Not necessarily." Morrin watched the red figure darting up and down in the air. "Hermione Granger cast a Waterproofing Charm on him. However... today's variable isn't the weather."
Morrin put down his binoculars.
[True Sight] activated.
He wasn't watching the match; instead, he looked toward the Forbidden Forest at the edge of the pitch.
At the very top of the highest stand, a huge, bear-like black dog was crouching in the curtain of rain, staring intently at Harry in the middle of the pitch.
Sirius Black.
"So you really did come." Morrin's lips curled slightly.
At the same time, another colder, more massive aura was converging beneath the pitch.
It was over a hundred Dementors.
They were hungry.
The excitement of the thousands of students on the pitch was like a feast to them.
"Match start!" Madam Hooch's whistle was drowned out by thunder.
Harry rode his Nimbus 2000 into the sky.
But soon, something went wrong.
A bone-chilling cold enveloped the entire pitch. All the cheering vanished.
Below, dense swarms of Dementors rose like black, rotting rags. They surrounded the pitch, countless invisible mouths sucking the happiness from the air.
Harry froze in mid-air.
He heard his mother's screams before her death.
His body lost control, falling from a height of fifty feet.
"Potter is falling!" Malfoy shrieked with excitement.
"Idiot," Morrin cursed under his breath.
He didn't look at the falling Harry, because Dumbledorehad already stood up, and that silver spell was taking shape.
Morrin looked at several Dementors approaching the Slytherin stands.
They seemed to think the scent of 'fear' and 'ambition' over here was quite good too.
"Since you're here, don't leave."
Morrin pulled three alchemical products he had developed over the summer break from his pocket.
[Anti-Dementor Grenade]
It was made from a mixture of Dementor slices, Mandrakejuice, and high-explosive alchemical gunpowder.
"Go."
Morrin gave a casual toss.
Three small silver spheres flew toward the approaching Dementors.
Boom! Boom! Boom!
There was no fire.
Only three clouds of blinding silver mist with holy properties exploded in the air.
The mist contained concentrated 'Happiness Extract,' which Morrin had refined from tons of candy bought from Honeydukes.
"Hiss—!!!"
The Dementors let out agonizing shrieks. This concentrated happiness bomb was like acid to them.
They retreated in panic, even colliding with one another.
"Experiment successful." Morrin satisfiedly recorded the data. "This concentration of Happiness Extract can cause physical damage, but it can't kill them."
At this moment, in the center of the pitch, Dumbledore had already acted.
"Expecto Patronum!"
A massive silver Phoenix drove away all the Dementors and caught Harry with a Cushioning Charm.
But Harry's broom wasn't so lucky.
The Nimbus 2000 was blown away by the wind, flying straight toward the Whomping Willow.
"Crack, crack."
Even through the rain, everyone could imagine the fate of that broom... Hospital Wing.
When Harry woke up, he saw Ron and Hermione's mud-splattered faces.
"We lost," Ron said sadly. "Cedric caught the Snitch. And... Harry, your broom..."
Ron dumped a bag of Wood splinters and bent twigs onto the bed.
It was the wreckage of the Nimbus 2000.
Harry felt like a piece of his heart was missing; that was his most precious partner.
"What a pity."
A voice came from the doorway.
Moen White walked in, carrying a long object wrapped in black cloth.
"White?" Wood, the Gryffindor captain, looked at him warily. "Are you here to mock us?"
"No, Captain Wood." Morrin shook his head. "I'm here to do business."
He walked to Harry's bedside and looked at the pile of Wood splinters.
"Nimbus 2000, a decent broom, but unfortunately too fragile. The Whomping Willow doesn't have a good temper."
Morrin placed the long package at the foot of Harry's bed.
"Open it and see, Harry."
Harry unwrapped the black cloth in confusion.
A broomstick, pitch black all over with a wild design and metal jet nozzles at the tail, lay there quietly.
It was Morrin's personal ride—the [Black Swan (Black Swan)].
However, this [Black Swan] looked a bit more restrained, without so many menacing spikes.
"This is..." Harry was stunned.
"Black Swan · Mass Production Model," Morrin introduced. "This is the first civilian version I've launched with German craftsmanship after acquiring the Nimbus Company."
"Its speed is 10% faster than the Nimbus 2001, and its durability is three times that of a Nimbus. Plus, it's been fitted with an 'Anti-Adverse Weather' alchemical coating."
Morrin looked at Harry:
"It's yours."
"What?!" everyone in the ward cried out in shock.
Ron's eyes looked like they were about to pop out.
"That's a trade secret," Morrin smiled. "However, for a spokesperson, the product is free."
"Spokesperson?" Harry was dazed.
"Exactly." Morrin pulled a parchment contract from his robes. "As long as you ride this to win your upcoming matches and say 'White Heavy Industries, strictly premium quality' during post-match interviews, this broom is yours."
"Of course, if you refuse, I'll give it to Malfoy. I think he'd be quite happy to fly circles over your head with it."
This was an overt scheme.
Harry looked at the incredibly cool broom, then at the pile of Wood splinters.
He needed a broom—one that could defeat Dementors and defeat Malfoy.
"I'll sign," Harry said through gritted teeth.
"A wise choice." Morrin handed over a quill.
After the signature was done, Morrin tucked away the contract, feeling pleased.
This wasn't just an advertisement; it was a further 'binding' of the savior.
"Get some rest, Harry."
Walking out of the Hospital Wing, the smile on Morrin's face vanished.
He pulled that Alchemy Compass from his pocket.
The red dot for Scabbers was still in the Castle, but just now, the black light representing Sirius had been very close to the Castle walls.
"The big dog has already caught the scent."
Morrin gripped his cane.
"Next, it's about leading these two animals into the same cage."
[Current Extraction Count: 5]
[Target: Marauder's Map]
"The Weasley Twins..." Morrin narrowed his eyes. "Looks like I'll have to go talk to those two jokers about a 'patent acquisition'."