Professor McGonagall was profoundly confused by Rove's request for a "Field Guide to Middle-earth Monsters," but considering the boy's extreme vigilance towards "Goblins" (Orcs), she decided to take him to Eeylops Owl Emporium. Perhaps buying a pet would help alleviate his anxiety.
However, just as they were pushing through the crowded throngs of Diagon Alley, a siren blasted in Rove's mind.
> [WARNING! High-Energy Biological Reaction Detected!]
> [WARNING! Extremely Dangerous Dark Relic Detected!]
Rove's body went rigid instantly. His right hand instinctively flew to the hilt of his "Blackthorn Shortsword" (wand), while his left hand moved to protect his chest.
He looked in the direction the System indicated, and his pupils shrank to pinpoints.
Standing at the foot of the white steps of Gringotts was a figure as massive as a mountain. The man was nearly twice as tall as a normal person and five times as wide. A tangled mess of black hair and beard covered most of his face, revealing only eyes that glinted like black beetles. He wore a colossal moleskin coat and radiated a wild, primal aura.
> [Scan Complete]
> [Target: Rubeus Hagrid]
> [Species Identification: Half-Giant -> Skin-Changer (Beorning)]
> [Danger Level: Skull Class (Transforms into a giant bear when enraged to tear enemies apart)]
> [Faction: Chaotic Good (Current) / Feral Nature (Latent)]
"A Skin-Changer," Rove gasped, sucking in a breath of cold air. "I thought these legendary creatures were extinct?"
In the lore of Middle-earth, the Skin-Changers—Beorn's kin—were guardians of nature. They hated Orcs, but they weren't exactly friendly to Dwarves or other races either. They possessed immense strength, could transform into giant bears, and were absolute meat grinders on the battlefield.
"Don't stare, Rove. It's rude." McGonagall noticed Rove's stiffness. "That is Hagrid, the Gamekeeper at Hogwarts. He is a good man."
"The strong always deserve respect, Lady of Light," Rove whispered, the wariness in his eyes shifting to awe. A Skin-Changer who could survive in a world teeming with Orcs (Goblins) and Dark Wizards was undoubtedly a top-tier powerhouse.
The System's alarm didn't stop; instead, it became even more piercing.
> [WARNING! One Ring-Class Dark Source Detected!]
> [Distance: 10 meters]
> [Host advised to evade!]
Rove's gaze shifted from Hagrid to the scrawny figure standing beside him.
It was a boy who looked incredibly frail, wearing round glasses taped together at the bridge and ill-fitting old clothes. He looked completely unremarkable, but in Rove's System vision, the lightning-shaped scar on the boy's forehead was spewing black smoke invisible to the naked eye.
> [Target: Harry Potter]
> [Identity Identification: The Savior -> The Ring-Bearer]
> [Status: Cursed (Soul Fragment of Voldemort) -> Gaze of Sauron]
> [Description: He bears the heavy burden of destroying the Dark Lord, but he is also constantly on the verge of corruption by the Darkness. Wherever he goes, death and misfortune follow like a shadow.]
"Bloody hell..." Rove subconsciously took a half-step back. "It's the Ring-Bearer! A mobile disaster zone!"
If the Skin-Changer was a physical threat, the Ring-Bearer was a nuclear bomb of causality. If you followed him, sooner or later you'd run into Ringwraiths, Balrogs, or something even worse.
"Oh, Minerva!" Hagrid's booming voice rolled down the street like thunder. He spotted Professor McGonagall and waved a hand the size of a dustbin lid happily. "Fancy seein' you here! I'm jus' takin' Harry to get his supplies."
"Harry?" McGonagall's expression softened immediately. She looked at the small boy. "Good heavens, is that Harry? I mean, Mr. Potter."
Harry looked up shyly, meeting Rove's gaze.
In that instant, Harry felt a strange chill. This boy standing behind Professor McGonagall, who was the same age as him, wore brand-new robes and had a very hard-looking wand at his waist. And in his hand... um, why was he holding a frying pan?
"Hello, Hagrid." McGonagall smiled, then turned to Harry. "Mr. Potter, it is a pleasure to see you."
"Hello," Harry replied politely, his eyes drifting back to Rove.
"This is Rove, another first-year student," McGonagall introduced. "Rove, this is Harry Potter."
Rove took a deep breath. There was no avoiding it. Since they were already at close range, he had to show enough goodwill to avoid being held in contempt by the future Ring-Bearer, while maintaining enough distance to avoid getting splattered with blood.
He tucked the frying pan under his arm, took a step forward, and first bowed deeply to Hagrid—an ancient Middle-earth salute to a Spirit of Nature.
"May your honey always be sweet, Great Forest Walker," Rove said solemnly. "Your strength makes the mountains tremble."
Hagrid froze. In his life, he'd been called "Big Guy," "Oaf," and "That Monster Breeder," but no one had ever called him a "Great Forest Walker." His face, hidden beneath his beard, instantly turned beet red.
"Er... thanks? I mean, you're very polite, little fella," Hagrid rubbed his massive hands together, flustered. "I'm jus' the Gamekeeper."
"Humility is the virtue of the strong." Rove nodded, then turned to Harry.
He didn't offer a handshake (absolutely no physical contact with the Ring-Bearer). Instead, he stood two meters away, looking at Harry with a complex expression.
To normal eyes, Harry was just a skinny boy.
But through Rove's System-overlaid senses, he saw a heartbreaking scene:
On the boy's frail shoulders, it looked as if he were carrying an invisible, pitch-black mountain. That lightning scar wasn't just a scar; it was a living, cursed eye oozing black oil. The aura of evil, cold, and nausea (radiating from the Horcrux fragment) was so intense that Rove could practically smell sulfur and rotting flesh.
And Harry, completely unaware, just stood there smiling shyly while bearing a malice heavy enough to drive an adult wizard insane.
"Is this the Mark?" Rove murmured softly, his tone stripped of its earlier sarcasm, replaced by deep shock and sympathy.
This wasn't an act. Any normal person seeing an 11-year-old child burdened with such a hellish weight would feel suffocated.
"A heavy burden," Rove sighed like a battle-weary veteran, his eyes softening involuntarily. "Heavy lies the head that wears the crown. Painful is the hand that bears the Ring. Good luck, Mr. Potter."
He paused, braving the red pop-up window from the System—[WARNING: Spoilers will cause World Line Collapse]—and bit the bullet to add:
"If you ever feel like someone is talking inside your head, or if you feel a sudden urge to put on a ring... remember to eat more chocolate, or come find me. Although I probably can't help much, I can at least call the police for you."
(That's all I can do. Harry, in this world full of monsters, I hope you survive.)
Harry had absolutely no idea what he was talking about, but he keenly sensed the kindness in Rove's tone—a concern that, while eccentric, was devoid of malice.
"Th-thanks?" Harry was touched. This was the first person since he entered the wizarding world who didn't treat him as a "celebrity" or a "rare animal," but rather as a... fellow sufferer.
"Alright, Rove." McGonagall found Rove's speech as bizarre as ever, but at least he was polite. "We must be off to the Owl Emporium. Hagrid, what about you?"
"We're headin' to Gringotts." Hagrid patted Harry on the shoulder.
"Gringotts," Rove's face paled, and he looked at Harry again. "To the Orcs' lair? To retrieve that object?"
Could it be they were retrieving the Philosopher's Stone (The Ring)?
"Yup, gettin' some money, and doin' a little business fer Dumbledore." Hagrid winked mysteriously.
Rove's eyes sharpened instantly. I knew it! The Quest for the Fellowship has already begun!
"Take care." Rove bowed to them again, then spun around and grabbed McGonagall's sleeve, pulling her away. "Let's go, Professor. The air here is bad. The dark power is too thick."
Watching Rove hurry away, Harry scratched his head. "Hagrid, is that boy a bit strange?"
"Harry," Hagrid said nonchalantly, "he seems like a fine lad! Got a good eye! He could see my inner beauty!"
...
Eeylops Owl Emporium.
The shop was filled with blinking eyes, the soft rustle of wings, and low hooting sounds.
"You need a messenger." McGonagall pointed to a beautiful snowy owl. "This breed is excellent. Fast fliers, and very intelligent."
"Too conspicuous," Rove shook his head. "A white target on the battlefield is asking for death. Sauron's archers would shoot it down in seconds."
He paced in front of the cages, his gaze sweeping over the colorful owls until it landed on a cage in the corner.
Inside was a smaller owl, pitch black with sharp, piercing eyes. Unlike the others, it wasn't sleeping or preening; it was vigilantly watching everyone who entered the shop.
> [Target: Barn Owl (Variant)]
> [System Identification: Crebain — Crow of Dunland]
> [Traits: Stealth, Reconnaissance, Counter-Espionage]
> [Description: These are Saruman's favorite spies, but in your hands, it will become a blade against the Great Eye.]
"That one." Rove pointed at the black owl. "Only by blending into the darkness can one monitor the darkness."
"That one?" The shopkeeper looked surprised. "He has a nasty temper. Pecked three students already."
Rove extended a finger toward the cage. The black owl lunged to peck, but stopped just millimeters from Rove's skin. It cocked its head, observing the fanaticism in Rove's eyes.
Then, it let out a short, raspy cry, as if accepting a pact.
"Good." Rove nodded in satisfaction. "From today on, your name is 'Crebain.' Our mission is to monitor all abnormal movements in this place, especially the spies of the noseless guy."
Professor McGonagall sighed. She was beginning to think this child's persecution complex was even worse than Mad-Eye Moody's.
As Rove walked out of the shop carrying the birdcage, the System chimed again.
> [Side Quest Complete: Contact the Ring-Bearer]
> [Reward Acquired: Skill - Detect Evil (Lv1)]
> [Effect: You can see black smoke or dark light emanating from items or creatures deeply corrupted by dark magic/dark forces. Note: Do not stare for too long to avoid Sanity Loss.]
Rove closed his eyes, then opened them again.
The entire Diagon Alley had changed in his vision. In the distance, toward Knockturn Alley, pillars of black smoke rose like signal fires; in the direction of Gringotts, a faint bloody light pulsed; and the man with the turban who had just brushed past them (Quirrell) was practically a lighthouse beaming black light.
"Hogwarts..." Rove gripped the birdcage tighter, a bitter smile playing on his lips. "This isn't a school. This is clearly a forward operating base in Mordor."
Since he couldn't escape this world where his senses were hijacked by the System, he had to accept it. If the System insisted he treat this place as Middle-earth, then he would survive using Middle-earth methods—even if everyone else thought he was crazy.