Hairy Heart and Horcruxes

The Compost task was completed quickly, and the odor in the Third Greenhouse subsided considerably after a period of ventilation.

When Professor Sprout gathered all the students together and lined them up at the entrance of the Third Greenhouse, the young wizards suppressed their excitement and wore expectant smiles.

On Friday, during the last period of class, they would just have to wait for Professor Sprout to announce the end of the class so they could have a good time for the afternoon and then enjoy a refreshing weekend.

Professor Sprout, dressed in a gardener's robe and wearing a large brown wizard's hat, stood with his hands on his hips at the entrance of the Third Greenhouse: "Some of you have diligently Compost and collected hay. Here, I want to commend Lomberton and Abbott."

Applause erupted, and everyone turned their attention to Neville and Hannah. Neville felt the gazes of others, and his neck and ears flushed red from the blood.

Hannah wore a pleasant smile.

Ron tilted his head slightly, covered his mouth with his hand, and whispered to the side, "Harry, Seamus, don't you think Neville is more shy than before?"

"I think so too. He's like he's back to being a first-year student." Seamus's mouth parted slightly, and his voice came through the gap.

Loren looked at Neville and Hannah standing together with a mocking smile on his face.

Hermione tilted her head... not understanding what this person was laughing at.

"But! There are also people slacking off in the crowd, and you know who I'm talking about!" Professor Sprout's eyes swept over Loren and the others, with a look somewhat like Professor McGonagall's, exuding a strong sense of pressure.

Hermione, Harry, Ron, Seamus, and Dean all shrank back, not daring to meet Professor Sprout's gaze.

Only Loren stood tall and proud, with an air of "I don't know what you're talking about, but it's not me," completely self-righteous.

Professor Sprout glared at him fiercely, which made Hermione and the others around him even more guilty, all thinking that the professor was glaring at them.

"Those whose names I call, stay. The rest of you, disperse."

Professor Sprout's words made Loren's neck stiffen, and his seasoned demeanor lost some of its confidence.

"Harry Potter, Ron Weasley, you two stay here. The rest of you can go back."

"Yay!"

Seamus and Dean immediately cheered. The two of them walked up to Harry and Ron, jumped up and high-fived in celebration, their actions extremely smug and utterly irritating.

Before Harry and Ron could beat them up, the two of them ran off with the other unrelated young wizards, their figures quickly disappearing into the grass.

Loren and Hermione remained where they were; they hadn't abandoned their friend, mainly because Loren wanted to see what the commotion was about.

Professor Sprout walked up to Harry, stopped, and tapped the thick sole of his left gardener's boot with the heel of his right foot to knock the dirt off.

"Do you know why I left you two here?" Professor Sprout said casually, his feet still moving.

Harry and Ron probably guessed what was going on, and nodded sheepishly. Harry muttered under his breath, "Sorry, Professor, we'll write our papers more carefully from now on."

Ron nodded and said, "Yes, Professor, we promise."

"I remember your promise, lads," Professor Sprout said, looking at them with a cheerful voice. "But wrongdoing must be punished. I need you to take off the Mandrake's winter socks and scarves."

Do you know what to do?

Harry and Ron nodded obediently.

Do you know which nursery bed contains Mandrake?

Harry and Ron nodded obediently.

"Good boy!" Professor Sprout praised. "Get started now. I'll lock the Greenhouse before dark."

Ignoring the young wizards, she hobbled down her heavy gardener's boots toward the Greenhouse, her muttered words fading into the distance, "The Mandrake will be ready soon after it takes off its socks..."

Hermione watched the professor's departing figure thoughtfully, nodding her head repeatedly.

"It's the end of January now. By the time we have our final exams, it will be almost ripe." Loren had a similar expression on his face.

The two men nodded in exactly the same way, at a slow and even pace, with a slight curve, vaguely resembling an old man with a white beard.

Harry looked at the two of them with a puzzled expression. "Are you and Professor Sprout exchanging secret codes? What does that mean?"

"You must not have been paying attention when you copied my paper." Hermione gave him a disdainful look. "If you had just read the second half carefully, you would have known that we were talking about the ripening time of Mandrake."

Seeing that the two were still somewhat confused, Loren reminded them, "Mature Mandrake can be used to make a potion to awaken the petrified Colin and Justin."

"And Mrs. Norris," Hermione added, "Filch will be very happy to hear this."

"We still have several months until our final exams, which isn't going to be fast," Ron said in a miserable tone. "Come on, Harry, we need to hurry up and take off those noisy guys' socks, and don't forget to bring earmuffs."

Ron dragged Harry inside, his expression so tragic it looked like he was going to his death.

Loren smiled and pulled Hermione toward the Greenhouse: "Let's go, the two of them alone might not be able to finish before dark."

"I, I..." Hermione looked left and right, but dared not look Loren in the eye, and stammered, "I need to go to the Forbidden Forest. I need to see Hagrid about something."

The little Witch lied nervously, afraid that Loren would find out something. Her agreed meeting place with Professor Flitwick was at the Edge of the Forbidden Forest, so she could only use Hagrid as an excuse.

"Is that so—" Loren drawled, leaning close to the girl's eyes, looking her straight in the eye with a suspicious expression.

They were too close; Hermione could feel his scorching breath, like flames, making her heart race with unease.

"Would you like me to come with you? I haven't seen Hagrid and Fang in ages."

"No!" Hermione shoved him away, her eyes sparkling as she watched him warily, like a little squirrel guarding its food.

Loren rubbed his chest, feeling a bit sore from the push, and muttered a complaint, "If you don't want to go, then don't go. Why push me like that... Do you want me to pick you up when you go back to the Castle?"

Hermione felt a little guilty and gently patted his chest to comfort him, saying, "No need, no need, I'll be back before dark. I'll come find you."

Fearing her lie would be exposed, Hermione felt uncertain and quickly slipped away.

Loren smiled, turned and walked into the Greenhouse...

Hermione has been keeping things from him lately, seemingly busy with something she can't tell him. However, everyone has secrets, and Hermione won't pry if she doesn't want to talk about it. Putting herself in his shoes, Hermione respects him in the same way.

Anyway, Hermione is unlikely to side with Voldemort.

Hmm, he wouldn't either...

Weekend, Gryffindor Common Room.

Most of the young wizards were playing and chasing each other outside, and the room was quiet with hardly anyone around.

Beside the blazing fireplace, Loren nestled in a soft armchair, a copy of the Tales of Beedle the Bard covering his face, breathing evenly and sleeping soundly.

But the space inside the Fantasy Book is a completely different story.

Alchemy Laboratory, in an inverted hemispherical red brick building, Loren and Flamel huddled together, discussing the phantom heart created by light and shadow in mid-air.

"As described in ' The Wizard and His Hairy Heart,' the heart, having had its senses shut down for so long, becomes shrunken and covered in black hair," Flamel said, waving his hand.

The once healthy, full, and constantly beating bright red heart withered like a flower; the plump muscles lost moisture and became dry and brittle, like withered and wrinkled Bark. Just like the process of food going moldy, long, dark mold sprouted, and even a faint stench of decay emanated from it.

"Hiss--"

The sight before him sent a chill down Loren's spine, but he quickly realized what was happening and said, somewhat speechlessly, "Flamel, this is a heart, not an apple."

"You must have read those anatomy books; the heart can't possibly age in this way."

Flamel shrugged, his tone helpless. "That's what the book says. The world of magic is different from Muggle medicine. You can't use Muggle thinking to understand magic."

"Is there really such magic that can move such a vital organ outside the body and still maintain its vital signs?"

Loren blinked. "Don't tell me that's how wizards are, that they can live even if you take their heart out."

"Of course not," Flamel paused for a moment, "Perhaps it's just an allegory, it doesn't conform to magic, nor to Muggle medicine. Nicol hasn't seen this kind of magic for at least several hundred years."

Loren still hadn't given up; he felt that the stories in "The Tales of Beedle the Bard" were not so simple.

There are five short stories in total. The Deathly Hallows that appear in "The Tale of the Three Brothers" are real. The Elder Wand, the Resurrection Stone, Invisibility Cloak were all seen by Loren. "The Fountain of Good Fortune" is confirmed by Dumbledore. "Babbitty Rabbitty and Her Cackling Stump" is based on the Animagus.

The remaining titles are "The Wizard and the Jumping Pot" and "The Warlock's Hairy Heart".

After restoring the Warlock's Humbled Heart in the air to its healthy form, Loren stared blankly at the heart, recalling the clues mentioned in the story.

A cold, powerful, and wise wizard, he possesses a vast Castle and astonishing wealth. He is devoid of emotion and, upon the death of his parents, is instead grateful to have inherited their fortune.

Until a Witch appeared and gained his trust, the wizard showed Witch his the Warlock's Humbled Heart hidden in a magic box, claiming that he had sealed his heart and his emotions.

The heart, having been deprived of its senses for so long, became the Warlock's Humbled Heart. The Witch begged the wizard to put the heart back so she could feel emotions and desires... Driven by desire, the wizard killed the Witch, and then, not wanting to be controlled by the Warlock's Humbled Heart, he gouged it out and committed suicide.

When the servants arrived, they found only two hearts and two corpses.

"A cold, wise wizard... who shows no grief for the death of his parents..."

"... If emotions are shut off... the heart can survive even after being removed from the body... but if the heart is destroyed, death will occur."

"Why does this feel so strangely familiar?" Thinking this, Loren's eyes lit up, and his voice unconsciously rose slightly, "This is Horcrux!"

Replacing Voldemort with the wizard in the story feels perfectly natural.

Cold, intelligent, possessing exceptional magical talent, devoid of emotion... He can live even if his heart leaves his body, let alone his soul. He dies if his heart is destroyed; isn't the heart simply a Horcrux that houses the soul?

Flamel's eyes lit up. He waved his hand, transforming the heart back into its the Warlock's Humbled Heart form, blurring its outline until only a blur remained. The black hair on it dissolved into rising black Magic Power, twisting and turning evilly.

"The Warlock's Humbled Heart may just be a symbol; the story still holds true if you replace the heart with any vessel that holds the soul," Flamel said.

Loren clicked his tongue, "Then this story is going to get complicated."

Speculating along the lines of conspiracy theories, who did the warlock kill to create Horcrux? Could it have been his parents?

Why did the Witch approach the male witch? Did she come with the intention of killing him from the beginning?

In the story, only the servants survived. Were the deaths of the male and Witch really that simple?

The story is far more complex than the Poet Beedle makes it out to be.

Loren gazed at the shifting phantom of the heart, its swirling black Magic Power strikingly resembling Ravenclaw's Diadem. He sighed softly, "Over a thousand years have passed since Hعلbo invented the method for creating Horcrux, and who knows how many have attempted it..."

Flamel didn't seem to care much. He said nonchalantly, "Believe me, Loren, immortality isn't as wonderful as you think. Nicol didn't want to live anymore after six hundred years. I think he's lasted long enough. At least in six hundred years, he hasn't found much trace of other immortals."

Loren nodded noncommittally.

The virtual consciousness flickered. Someone in the real world was calling him. Loren's thoughts shifted, and his consciousness withdrew from the space of the Fantasy Book.

"Horcrux?" Flamel's disdainful voice rang out. He casually waved his hand, and the floating phantom of the Warlock's Humbled Heart turned into countless tiny rays of light, dissipating in mid-air.

When his consciousness returned to his physical body, Loren felt that the book on his face had been removed, and his eyelashes were being played with, making him feel itchy.

Opening her eyes, she saw Hermione standing before her, just back from outside. Her face was flushed, and a smile was overflowing from the corners of her eyes, completely unstoppable. She was sitting on the armrest of a single sofa, with the Tales of Beedle the Bard placed beside her, her mischievous little hand still outstretched.

With her eyes wide open, that delicate little white hand was still causing trouble. Loren took a bite, and their teeth made a crisp "crunch" sound as they clashed together.

"Ah!" Hermione pulled her hand away quickly, nimbly dodging the attack. After realizing what had happened, she pushed his head away and couldn't help but giggle.

"You found Galleons? You seem so happy." Loren shook his head and propped himself up, changing from lying down to a normal sitting position.

"Mind your own business," Hermione snorted. The little Witch had experienced Apparition several times with Professor Flitwick today and was beginning to grasp that strange feeling.

She changed the subject. "Why didn't you go to the Quidditch Pitch with them? When I came back, I saw Professor Black riding Flying Motorcycle chasing Flying Car, with dozens of flying brooms following them, and a lot of onlookers around."

Loren clicked his tongue, gloating, "If Professor McGonagall finds out, the new Professor Black will also be put in solitary confinement."

"Professor McGonagall seems to be busy; she must be grading the Animagus Exam papers."