Hearing Hermione's words, Ron, despite his difficulty speaking, managed to croak, "Hermione, you can't just ask about things like that!"
Hermione was confused. "What's wrong with it?"
"Because... that might be ancestral magic," Ron explained. "My dad told me the Potter family is actually very ancient."
Readers, Ron's caution was not for nothing; he understood the situation well.
The wizarding families each had their secret inheritances—be it magical treasures or special abilities—which they regarded as the foundation of their status. The Gaunt line, for example, relied on their blood-trait of Parseltongue to secure their place among the "Sacred Twenty-Eight."
Although the Potter line was not among the Twenty-Eight, their roots ran deep.
However, Harry's great-grandfather, Henry Potter, was a staunch fellow who recognized only "justice" and often spoke up for Muggles, disregarding his own interests. When things settled down, those who considered themselves "pure-bloods" began ranking everyone.
When compiling the "Sacred Twenty-Eight," someone brought up this old case. They deemed Henry Potter's defense of Muggles as "heresy" (离经叛道, líjīngpàndào) and proof of "impure blood."
In the end, with a flick of a quill, the Potters were struck from the sacred list.
Ron explained this history, and Harry found it fascinating.
In that case, he thought, my Invisibility Cloak... could it be the family treasure?
"I remember the Weasleys are in the Twenty-Eight, right?" Hermione asked. "Ron, does your family have any special, powerful abilities?"
"Er... no. I think only some families have ancient magic or treasures."
Harry shook his head. "Brother, you're wrong. If we're talking about 'abilities,' your Weasley family should be at the head of the Twenty-Eight."
Ron and Hermione looked at each other, confused.
Ron squinted, thinking hard. "I don't remember learning any 'Weasley-only' magic."
"I have five older brothers. Unless they all swore an oath to hide it from me, I'm sure I'd know."
Harry laughed. "Brother, you're looking for the wrong kind of magic. Have you not heard the saying 'a flourishing and prosperous population'?"
"Look at all the other families. Which one has raised seven children in one generation? The Malfoys are drowning in money, and they only managed that one, Draco."
Ron was dumbfounded. "Being fertile... is a talent?"
(He wished his parents had fewer kids; maybe then they wouldn't be so poor.)
Seeing his disbelief, Harry explained. "You have five brothers. In the future, you all will have your own families. One person has five or seven kids..."
"In just a few generations, the entire wizarding world will belong to the Weasleys."
(He thought of the Chen clan of Jiangzhou, who in 15 generations had 3,700 mouths eating from the same kitchen, remaining prominent through the Tang and Song dynasties.)
In a few years, there wouldn't be a "Sacred Twenty-Eight." There would only be the "English Weasley Family."
Hermione's eyes went wide. Ron's mouth opened and closed several times, speechless.
Seeing them stunned, Harry turned to Hermione. "Sister, if you truly wish to learn the Fulu (Talisman) Dao, when we have time, this one will teach you."
"It's just... the Lightning Magic... my Master forbade me from teaching it to others."
Hermione was thrilled. "That's fine! Just knowing the principle is enough!"
Joking, they arrived at the hospital wing.
Madam Pomfrey first treated Ron's bruises, then took out a round-bellied bottle.
"Your internal organs took a magical shock, but it's not too serious. This potion... remember to drink a small sip before every meal."
Ron took the bottle, and Harry immediately stepped forward, pulling ten Galleons from his robes.
Madam Pomfrey had heard of Harry's reputation for generosity, but she was a proud woman. "Mr. Potter, I am a healer. It is my duty to treat the sick."
Harry bowed. "Madam, your skill in healing the world, your miraculous hands that save the dying... this one has long admired you. This small token... I have had it prepared for a long time, waiting just for you."
"I only regret that I am rarely sick or injured, and thus have had no chance to see your immortal face. Today, using my brother's small injury as an excuse, I finally have the honor of meeting you, and this gold, saved for two years, has finally found its owner."
He pushed the Galleons forward. "A small token of my heart. I pray you will accept it."
Harry's words... they soothed the soul.
Even if Madam Pomfrey had a heart of stone, she couldn't withstand Harry's "iron-pestle-grinding-a-needle" verbal skills.
"Oh, alright, Harry." The woman's face softened, her smile like a spring breeze. "You really are... impossible to refuse."
She wrote an address on parchment. "This is my private address. If Mr. Weasley shows any other symptoms, you can contact me by owl immediately."
Harry nodded, accepted the parchment, and they left.
They were all starving and headed to the Great Hall.
Ron, after Pomfrey's treatment, could walk fine. Harry, hands free, was about to explain the Fulu to Hermione when they entered the hall and were met by a deafening, tsunami-like roar.
Fred and George, at the head of a tide of Gryffindors, surged forward. They lifted Harry onto their shoulders, chanting:
"All hail the Lion King!"
"Make way for the future Dueling Master!"
They cheered and carried Harry to the long table.
Ron and Hermione understood immediately: the story of Harry battling Draco and defying Snape had spread.
Seeing the crowd around Harry, Ron found a quiet spot. Before he could even take out his potion, Fred and George were charging at him.
"Well done, Ron!"
"I can't believe you did that!"
Ron was confused. Fred clapped him hard on the shoulder. "Ron, you're famous!"
It turned out that while the "streets" were buzzing with Harry's fame, they had also heard how Ron, after being "betrayed and ambushed," had fought on, bloodied, for "nearly half an hour" without once begging for mercy.
Who wouldn't be awed by such a heroic deed?
The Grey Lady (Helena) heard of it and admired Ron's "bloodthirsty" (血性, xuèxìng - means 'gutsy/fierce') spirit. Hearing he was the sixth son, she gave him a resounding nickname.
"Did you hear?" George's face was a mask of jealousy and pride. "They're calling you 'Death-Defying Sixth Brother Ron' (拼命六郎罗恩, pīnmìng liù láng)!"
"The Grey Lady herself named you!"
Ron stood in a daze, his face burning. He repeated the nickname, his heart pounding with shock and joy.
"Right," Fred suddenly lowered his voice, "that Malfoy... he has a new nickname, too."
"Want to know what it is?"
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