A Startling Dream

The list of Animagus class and the distorted report in the Daily Prophet, together like depth charges, created a huge uproar among the young wizards.

The Great Hall was very noisy at dinner, with everyone at the long tables of each college discussing the two issues.

"The Daily Prophet should have attacked this a long time ago. I suspect Dumbledore orchestrated this because he wants to become Minister for Magic. My dad told me they're planning to push for a new Educational Decree from the Ministry of Magic. Just wait and see, he'll be kicked out of Hogwarts soon."

Marcus Flint spoke at the Slytherin table, "We should get a Pure-blood headmaster. A decent headmaster would never let those Mudblood idiots into the school."

Draco, not far away, swallowed his beef expressionlessly. Besides disdain, he even found it somewhat ridiculous... If Marcus were really that bold, he wouldn't have deliberately suppressed his voice, allowing only a few people around him to hear.

Sitting to Draco's right was Goyle. The new school term had been underway for a few months, and Goyle seemed to have adapted to life without Crabbe. He had found a new friend—Pike Selwyn, also of Pure-blood Families, also academically weak, and also eager to curry favor with Malfoy. He took over Crabbe's place with almost no resistance.

Unlike Crabbe, he was thin, barely reaching a normal build, and even smaller than his peers.

They formed a new Malfoy clique, which Draco didn't object to. He couldn't always be a loner and stand out. Occasionally, by agreeing with Goyle and Selwyn and saying a few words about Pure-blood Supremacy, he could integrate into the Slytherin group.

"Remember Vincent? I've heard some news about him," Theodore Nott suddenly reached out to speak to them.

Theodore Nott, also of Pure-blood Families, had known Draco since childhood, and they maintained a friendly relationship. However, Nott didn't need to curry favor with the Malfoy, nor did he join their clique. Nott excelled in Potions Master and always kept to himself. But occasionally, he would join in when mocking Muggle and Half-blood wizards.

"Speak quickly if you have any news." Draco picked up a napkin and wiped his mouth casually.

"I peeked into my dad's letters to my uncle abroad, who works in Ilvermorny. The letters said that Ilvermorny had received a special transfer application from a student named Pierre Crabbe," Nott said mysteriously.

Goyle didn't quite grasp it, scratching his head dumbly. "Even though he also has the surname Crabbe, what does that have to do with Vincent?"

"Are you stupid?" Selwyn patted Goyle on the shoulder, his tone somewhat agitated. "It must be Vincent changed his name."

No one keeps secrets when news is shared at the dinner table; people overhear it and immediately pass it on to the next person, so the news spreads very quickly.

After dinner, back in the Gryffindor Common Room, Loren soon heard about the incident from Seamus.

"The Ministry of Magic just released him so easily?" Harry clenched his fists angrily, his anger rising with a strange violence that made his mind a mess.

"Actually, it might not be so easy," Loren muttered. Seeing the puzzled looks on his face, Loren explained...

"Remember the Malfoy family's donations to the Ministry of Magic? The Crabbe family must have paid a heavy price this time as well. They also bribed St Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries, donating a large sum of money to the hospital and certainly bribing the Healer. They spent money to stir up public opinion in the Daily Prophet, and the trial ended before any news of it even came out, which means they also spent money to bribe the judges and the recorder."

Hermione listened to these previously unknown accounts, she vaguely felt as if some barrier in her mind had been pierced, as if she were witnessing something deeper. While incredulous, her thoughts broadened, and she began to see many things from a different perspective.

Seeing Hermione's eyes flickering and shifting, Loren wanted to tell her more about similar things. Her heart was beautiful, but she couldn't assume others were as beautiful as her; understanding the darker side of human nature would help her find her own path.

"Despicable Pure-blood rich man!" Seamus and Dean spat out a curse.

Harry was so angry that he couldn't suppress his violent emotions and kicked Ron hard on the armchair where Ron was sitting.

"Hey, what are you doing!" Ron poked his head out, holding a newspaper. "Even though I'm Pure-blood, my family isn't rich. The Weasley aren't Crabbe."

Loren frowned slightly; Harry's behavior was a bit unusual.

Harry realized what was happening, let out a long sigh, and relaxed his tense nerves. "I'm sorry Ron, I... I was just thinking about how we were almost killed by the Basilisk that day, and Crabbe didn't get any punishment... I was so angry."

Loren was suddenly flicked on the ear. He turned around in pain and looked at Hermione in shock. "Why did you hit me all of a sudden?"

Hermione snorted and turned her head away, ignoring him... It was nothing, she just couldn't help herself when she heard about the Basilisk.

"Oh dear, you started it and you still think you're right?" Loren refused to give up and reached out to flick Hermione's ear.

Hermione grabbed his wrist and pressed his hands to either side of his head. The two of them wrestled on the sofa and soon sank into a ball under the fabric.

It's unbearable to look at... Ron waved the newspaper in his hand and called out to the two of them with disgust, "Stop fighting, take a look at this first!"

Loren and Hermione sat up, their faces flushed, and sat upright, a seat between them. They were both wondering to themselves, "Why did they suddenly start fighting?"

Never mind, it's all his/her fault.

Loren coughed. "We've seen what's in the newspaper."

"Did you notice this sentence?" Ron read it to them. "Our special correspondent Rita Skeeter will continue to report on this!"

Loren and Hermione started to realize what was happening and began to think.

Harry, a little slow on the uptake, asked in confusion, "Is there anything special about that sentence?"

"She's read the Ministry of Magic's files and reports. She's definitely interviewed all the residents of Godric's Hollow who could be interviewed. Where else can she dig up information to continue reporting?" Ron stretched the newspaper, the papers rustling as they shook.

Harry's eyes widened in disbelief: "You mean—"

"Hogwarts," Hermione said calmly, "Is the only Hogwarts."

"Besides the professors at the school, the only people who have come into contact with the Chamber of Secrets and the Basilisk are the four of us. She might contact us to get information from us."

Loren's words put them on guard, and the four of them found a place to discuss Rita Skeeter in detail.

"This report alone shows her skill in using words to move people. Look here,"

Loren pointed to the section describing Dumbledore's childhood and family environment, then to the passages describing Dumbledore's correspondence with the famous wizard, and said softly, "Putting two completely unrelated things together makes people mistakenly believe that there is a causal relationship between them. By weaving and piecing together, the reader is led to mistake the partial truth they see for the whole truth, hiding what they want to express behind the words, and guiding the reader to draw their own conclusions."

Loren concluded, "We'd better not talk to her, because anything we say will be twisted into a sensationalist report."

Harry was astonished, amazed that a single report could have so many twists and turns.

"Guiding readers to draw their own conclusions feels more persuasive than simply telling them directly..." Ron muttered to himself, his heart racing.

He had initially felt a sense of pride in predicting Rita's actions, but that pride had vanished, replaced by a slight excitement. Through Loren's words, he seemed to have glimpsed an advanced method of chess: beyond simply guessing the opponent's moves, he could also guide them to play according to his own ideas.

Hermione recalled many things, including the philosophy and social science books Monica had made her read: the manipulation of public opinion, mass psychology, political power, and...

Many things floated vaguely in her mind. She was too young to sort them out clearly, but many of the once ethereal concepts seemed to have a concrete form.

The world and society are like a vast web, Hermione felt she had touched some of the interwoven knots.

"Don't mention the Chamber of Secrets of Secrets or the Basilisk anytime soon," Loren cautioned. "Invisibility Cloak, Disillusionment Charm, or anything like that... This is a magical world; she might overhear our conversation."

"Is it necessary to go to this extent?"

Harry asked hesitantly, Sirius Black occasionally talked to him about the Basilisk... but with his three friends staring at him with menacing eyes, Harry finally nodded in agreement...

It was late at night, and Harry tossed and turned in his four-poster bed, unable to sleep. The events of the day kept replaying in his mind.

Harry sadly discovered that he seemed to have a pathetic barrier between himself and his three friends; he couldn't keep up with their thoughts.

"You can't use the Portkey or the Apparition, because teleportation will leave a trace."

"Then what should we do?"

"Fly over there."

"Are you kidding me? Flying from England to United States, across the Atlantic Ocean?"

"..."

The argument around him was a bit noisy. It took Harry a while to regain his sense of self from his hazy mind and realize that he was Harry, because the perspective before him was indeed a bit different from Harry Potter's usual perspective.

He seemed to reside in someone's chest, perhaps as an infant being held in someone's arms. Looking up at the adults around him from this angle, these neatly dressed men with Pure-blood Families crests embroidered on their collars all appeared excessively tall.

Then a cloud of mist and water vapor obscured the view... because they were flying over the sea, that reason suddenly popped into Harry's mind.

His mind was a jumbled mess, as if filled with some kind of Potions brewed by Neville. He couldn't think for himself, nor was he even aware that he couldn't. He watched everything unfold before him like a dream, only able to wait for thoughts to spring to mind on their own.

The scenery changed, and they seemed to have arrived at their destination. It was a very, very high mountain, and they had reached the summit in a strange way.

On a mountain Obscuring Mist, the outline of a magnificent Castle emerges, with two enormous statues standing at its main entrance. Strangely shaped emblems are carved on the stone pedestals at the statues' feet.

The badge is engraved with four different animals in the four directions: top, bottom, left, and right. At the top is a large bird with outstretched wings, to the left and right is a Horned Serpent and a Gnome, and at the bottom is an animal that looks like a rabbit. Harry looked closely and realized it was Wampus.

Then, everything went black.

Harry didn't receive any information, but he understood that it was to evade some kind of powerful detection magic.

He didn't know how much time had passed when he suddenly heard a man's voice. The voice sounded timid and frightened, but also carried a sense of pride and joy.

"I made it! Master, I finally made it!"

Harry's vision brightened; it was a closed, dark room with only a faint light from a hand lamp.

A short, stout man stood in front of me, his posture respectful. I couldn't see his face clearly, only a bottle of medicine being handed to him.

The perspective changed, Harry felt himself floating. He looked back following the perspective... Harry was shaken, and his stiff and dizzy mind suddenly started to work.

It's Crabbe!

His eyes were vacant, and everything only made his eyeballs move slightly, as if he were being controlled by something.

It was the Imperius Curse, Harry knew that without a doubt.

A hoarse, unpleasant voice managed to squeeze out a hint of joy, "Finally... finally it's done! My decision was right, Wormtail. Although you're a terrible wizard, you are a sound servant and can still follow my instructions. This will give me a simple, frail body in which I can dwell and wait for the regenerative materials needed for true rebirth."

"Yes—yes, Master, you saved Wormtail. It's what I should do," the first voice said nervously. "As you instructed, I've prepared a medicine using Unicorn Blood and Basilisk venom."

The camera zoomed in rapidly, and Harry felt himself floating inside the potion bottle. The bubbling sound indicated it was boiling violently...

After an unknown amount of time, his reactions stopped, and the first thing Harry saw was the ceiling. It wasn't until Wormtail picked him up and placed him in a swaddle that Harry realized he had truly become a baby.

From a wandering spirit to an infant.

The Wormtail's timidity and fear became even more apparent. He trembled as he said, "I have prepared some food in the bottle, Master. If you are hungry, I can feed you a little water."

"Hmm." A high-pitched voice, as cold as the wind, came out of her throat.

The Wormtail respectfully finished feeding the baby, then put the infant down. After doing all this, he mustered up his courage and asked, "Master, may I ask how long we are going to stay here?"

"It's not certain yet, maybe a few months, maybe longer," the chilling voice said. "Don't worry, Wormtail, I'll let you return to Hogwarts when the next school year begins."

The short, stout middle-aged wizard immediately knelt down, tears and snot streaming down his face, choking out, "No, please, Master, don't send me back to Hogwarts... Master... Master..."

The cold voice said lazily, "Don't worry, Voldemort won't send an obedient servant to his death. I still need to plan this carefully..."

On the other side of the Atlantic Ocean, Harry suddenly woke up from his dream.