Chapter 44
Ron nudged the dazed Harry, trying to distract himself from his own gloom. "Harry, what is wrong with you?"
Harry started. When he snapped out of it, he realized he had already pulled out his textbook and was ready to do his homework. It was terrifying.
He tried to shake the echo of Hermione's piercing words, forcing his attention elsewhere. "I was thinking about Halloween presents."
As soon as he said it, he felt a jolt of shock. Was it almost Halloween already? Time was flying by. That meant the year was nearly over as well. The sense of urgency Hermione had instilled in him was almost crushing.
Ron let out a whimper like a whipped dog, trying to shake off his own misery. He had just remembered something else. Halloween called for presents. The problem was that presents cost money. He had none. That was the real tragedy.
For the next few days, Harry was haunted by nightmares. He dreamed of time rushing past him like a tidal wave, leaving him old and gray before he knew it, dying before he had ever truly lived. How was that allowed?
He spent the next few days enjoying himself, trying to forget Hermione's terrifying words. Then he received a notice from Wood. Gryffindor's first Quidditch match of the season was right after Halloween against Slytherin.
This plunged Harry, who had just been feeling better, back into gloom. To make matters worse, as Halloween approached, his two best friends were acting increasingly strange. With Hermione, it went without saying. Her time anxiety was incurable. But even Ron was acting weird. He spent his days staring into space, and occasionally Harry heard him sighing miserably in the bathroom. This was worst in the mornings. Harry often caught Ron staring at Warren's back, looking like he wanted to approach but could not quite bring himself to do it.
Harry asked a few times, but Ron always mumbled something and changed the subject.
Warren had also noticed Ron's odd behavior, but he did not have the time to address it at the moment. Dumbledore's offer would have to wait, and his interest in magical creatures could be set aside. Developing potions was the immediate priority.
From that day forward, Warren buried himself in Snape's office, surrounded by a vast stock of ingredients. He invested the five Reputation Points earned from the previous month into Scarpin's Revelaspell. Thanks to frequent use over the past month, bolstered by his Charms talent of 7 and Potions talent of 10, the progress for Scarpin's Revelaspell had already increased by one a few days ago. With the addition of the five points, the spell naturally leveled up.
[Scarpin's Revelaspell LV3 (0/32)]
Warren dismissed the system panel with a thought. He gazed at the potion before him and cast the spell. A familiar play of light and color soon shimmered into view. With a wave of his wand, the potion began to revert back into its raw ingredients.
This time, however, felt distinct. His mastery of Scarpin's Revelaspell had suddenly reached a far deeper level. He was beginning to perceive the intricate mechanics of the spell itself. As he cast it, he channeled a sliver of extra magic, intentionally guiding the result. The reversion halted before the ingredients could fully return to their physical state. Instead, they began to emit a faint glow. It was the radiance of their inherent magical properties.
Snape looked up from the essays he was grading, sensing the shift in the atmosphere. He spotted the shimmering lights dancing within the separate pools of liquid arranged before Warren. For a moment, his carefully composed mask slipped.
"You applied Scarpin's Revelaspell to reverse the potion's properties instead of deconstructing the materials?" he asked, astonishment coloring his tone. "How did you manage that?"
Warren, clearly pleased by the reaction, carefully transferred the separated fluids into phials. He replied with a smile, "I incorporated a bit of magical interference during the casting, along with focused intent, Professor."
However, intimately familiar with Scarpin's Revelaspell, Snape knew it was far from a trifling technique. The more advanced and intricate a spell became, the harder it was to modify. Any rash alteration could cause the spell to backfire or result in unpredictable consequences. Warren's success demonstrated that he had achieved a profound mastery of Scarpin's Revelaspell. It surpassed his own, at the very least.
For a moment, Snape's emotions were a tangled mess. Envy rose to the surface first, directed specifically at Warren's talent. It was a natural reaction to seeing someone else outperform him. Yet joy quickly followed, complex and layered. There was the pride of a teacher witnessing a student's achievement. There was the thrill of seeing the magical extraction method and new potions offer a glimmer of hope. And most of all, there was the satisfaction that it was a Slytherin who had done it.
Snape had not forgotten Dumbledore's plan to groom the famous Potter. Hmph. Let him groom Potter. Snape would groom someone who would become even more famous than Potter. Warren. That thought almost thawed the ice on Snape's face. His voice even rose slightly as he said, "Ten points to Slytherin. Well done, Warren."
"This is not class, Professor. Points…"
"I will explain it to Professor McGonagall."
Snape, openly biased, saw no problem with this. Ten minutes later, he left the office in a good mood and encountered another Weasley, Harry's best friend, at the door. He did not hesitate to invent a reason.
"Weasley. Two points from Gryffindor for skulking suspiciously outside a professor's office."
He swirled his robes and glided away like a bat.
Ron stood there, dumbfounded and shaking with rage. Why could the world not just be fair? When were the innocent ever going to catch a break?
However, when Warren heard the commotion and opened the door to ask, "Ron? What are you doing here?" Ron's shoulders slumped, the energy draining from him instantly.
He fidgeted with his robes, stammering, "You, um, could you lend me some money? Halloween is coming up. I want to buy presents for my friends. Mum said we could just give homemade candy, but I, I…"
His voice faded to a whisper. He did not dare meet Warren's gaze, but he could not suppress the hope rising within him. His eyes darted about, shimmering with unshed tears.
Warren said nothing, simply looking him up and down. Ron tightened his grip on his robes. He forced himself to muster his courage. "I could call you b-brother."
Warren laughed suddenly. He had not expected this. All his life, Ron had been stubborn and stiff-necked, refusing to back down. But today, he was giving in. It was so sudden. It was so brave.
It took courage to beg the boy who had tormented him his whole life for money, just so he could buy his friends Halloween presents. Warren had been planning to tease him, but suddenly lost interest.
"How much do you need?"
Ron, torn between joy and suspicion, asked cautiously, "T-ten Sickles?"
Warren fished the money out of his bag and handed it over. Even with the silver coins in his palm, Ron still looked dazed, as if he were dreaming. He could not help but ask, "You do not want anything in return? You are just lending it to me?"
Warren was momentarily speechless before an idea struck him. A slow smile spread across his face. "Since you insist, there is one small thing you could do for me."
Seeing that familiar smile, Ron wanted to slap himself.
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