Mental Mentor

Neville was much larger and more robust than his peers, but this did not give him any courage.

The past glory of his parents and the constant expectations placed on him by his grandmother created a family environment that led to long-term emotional repression, making his Magic Power duller than that of his peers.

Neville was among the slowest learners of magic, always forgot things, and consistently lost points in Potions class. All of these factors combined made him somewhat insecure.

Neville felt incredibly lucky to be able to attend Hogwarts, and being sorted into Gryffindor by the Sorting Hat was the only thing he could be proud of. Attending school allowed him to escape his grandmother's oppressive gaze and gave him a group of friends.

But today, Malfoy's pranks and the ridicule of others shattered Neville's sanctuary.

"I don't have the courage, I'm not worthy to be Gryffindor ..." Neville kept repeating this sentence.

His slightly overweight body behaving in a childlike manner only made Loren and the others feel even more uncomfortable.

Harry and Ron looked at the crying Neville, at a loss for how to comfort him, Hermione unconsciously clutched the hem of her clothes.

Loren stepped forward and knelt down in front of Neville. "Neville, listen to me..."

Neville was consumed by twisted emotions, thinking, "I don't deserve to be a—"

"Listen to me!"

Loren's voice grew louder, carrying a hint of intimidation, and Harry and the others beside him were somewhat intimidated by Loren's serious demeanor.

Neville stopped his churning lips, lowered his hands from his face, and stared blankly at Loren.

"Your parents are Aurors, did you know that?" Loren pulled his handkerchief from Neville's robe and handed it to Neville, gesturing for him to wipe himself.

Neville took the handkerchief and clutched it in his hand.

"Your parents, the Lumbard couple, escaped Voldemort's pursuit three times, and they bravely resisted him when they Voldemort directly."

Neville knew all this; his grandmother always encouraged him with stories of his parents, but it wasn't the same—he wasn't as brave or as magically talented as his parents.

He looked at Loren, wondering why they were bringing this up now.

"Harry's parents, the Potter couple, had the same experience as your parents, escaping three times only to die at Voldemort's hands. Harry eventually grew up in the home of his wicked aunt."

"He was locked in a storage room from a young age, and his head would touch the ceiling when he stood up. He was treated like a servant."

Loren stared at Neville, then pointed at Harry. "Do you see any of this affecting him? Has he lost his courage?"

Neville stared blankly at Harry, following the finger he was being pointed at.

Loren turned his head and asked Harry, "Have these things affected you?"

"This..."

Harry opened his mouth, wanting to say that the storage room wasn't that small, that a child wouldn't be able to touch the ceiling even if they jumped, and that Harry felt these things were affecting him.

But in the end, Harry obediently shook his head, acknowledging that it wasn't true.

"Look at him, after he entered Hogwarts, he broke Malfoy's arms and legs and several ribs in the second week, and he even killed a troll on Halloween Night. What was he afraid of?" Loren said passionately.

Standing before the fireplace, Neville found Loren's blue eyes, reflected in the firelight, so dazzling that Neville shook his head when asked what was wrong.

Harry was very upset by these words. What did they mean by breaking Malfoy's arms, legs, and ribs? It was as if he had broken Malfoy's arms and legs himself. He wasn't like Dudley. And the troll incident was something they all did together.

"Your parents look so much like Harry's parents, and your birthday is only one day earlier Harry's. You and Harry are actually quite similar." Loren's voice softened.

These words, like a devil's whisper, drilled into Neville's mind through his ears, and he could feel his heart pounding uncontrollably.

But he quickly realized, "Harry's magic is better than mine, and he's also very good at Quidditch. We're different, and our talents are different too."

"No, your talents are quite similar."

Loren's voice became even more seductive as he reached out and pulled an old-fashioned wand from Neville's body. "I guess this isn't your own wand, is it?"

"No, no," Neville replied. It was his father Frank Lomberton's wand, which his grandmother hoped would give him power.

"Every wand is meant for a specific wizard. If you start with an unsuitable wand, of course you won't be able to use it effectively."

"Ron is an example. Think about it carefully, didn't he become much more powerful after changing his wand?"

Loren's words made Neville's eyes widen, and his heart pounded again. Ron had indeed become more powerful after changing his wand, and for a while he was always giving them pointers on spellcasting.

"Let's talk about Quidditch again. Don't forget, you were the first little wizard to fly in Flying Class. That doesn't mean you lack talent."

"The ones who really lack talent are people like me and Hermione. It took us a long time to get even the slightest reaction from the flying broom."

His thoughts involuntarily followed Loren's words, Neville felt a surge of heat rush from his left chest to his head. His breathing became heavier involuntarily. "Is... is that so?"

"Yes, you were flying slowly and cautiously because you were scared. Whether it's magic or Quidditch, your talent is about the same as Harry's. Get a wand that suits you, control your emotions, and show the courage you would have as Gryffindor."

Loren paused, his voice becoming almost inaudible, "You too can be the Chosen One."

Neville couldn't hold back any longer and scrambled to his feet. "I'll go write to Grandma right now and get her a new wand."

Hermione, Harry, and Ron stared in disbelief as Neville jogged away and disappeared from sight.

"What kind of spiritual mentor is this?!" Loren clapped his hands, quite pleased with his own smooth talk. "Problem solved."

"Are you telling the truth?" Ron looked at Loren with some admiration.

"Gryffindor Quidditch Team will have another Seeker! That's great!" Harry exclaimed excitedly, his mind still on Quidditch, hoping it would help him escape Snape's persecution.

"Wake up, Harry. Even if he joins the team now, it's too late for training," Loren said bluntly.

"Sigh..." Harry sighed. "Yes."

He pulled Ron aside to continue discussing what to do.

Hermione turned her head and whispered in Loren's ear, "You just acted like a door-to-door salesman."

The girl's breath brushed against Loren's cheek, making it slightly hot. Loren retorted, "What do you mean by 'liar'? Is there anything wrong with what I said? The wand does have an effect, and Neville was indeed the first to fly."

Then came a muttering, "I only did some processing and speculation, how can that be considered a scam..."

The lights were still on in the Hogwarts basement.

Loren walked towards Snape's office. It had been almost a week since school started, and it was Friday night again. Grandpa Bates's Wolfsbane Potion should be running out soon.

He was still thinking about Neville. Neville wasn't weak in the later stages, and his talent wasn't bad either. Maybe changing his wand would really make him soar.

I gradually walked to the end of the corridor and stopped in front of the office door.

Knock knock knock.

"Come in." Snape's voice was muffled, sounding as if it were coming from the storeroom.

Loren pushed open the door and went in. He saw that there was no one in the office area. He walked a little further in and entered the storage room.

Snape, dressed in a black robe, was waiting for him, still expressionless, as if he were mocking him.

Upon seeing the four boxes placed beside him, Loren froze, but then remembered that the snakes should still be hibernating, and relaxed.

"Good evening, Professor Snape."

Snape chuckled. "I thought you'd call me the thief who stole the Sorcerer's Stone."

It seems that Dumbledore did indeed discuss this issue with Snape.

Loren didn't reply, inwardly thinking, "It's not like that's what I think. Why are you making sarcastic remarks about me? Go make sarcastic remarks about Harry."

Snape received no response and turned his gaze to the box. "Work with me on these herbs, and keep up with me."

After saying that, he waved his hand, and four boxes flew onto the control panel. Two of them slid to the side, clearly containing herbs for Loren to use.

Upon opening the lid, the box was filled with many different types of herbs from various origins, all of which looked very fresh, with white frost still covering the tender leaves.

The box must have been enchanted with special preservation magic. Loren noticed some shimmering patterns on the inner wall of the box, suggesting it might be an alchemical artifact specifically for storing herbs.

Loren had never seen many of the herbs before, but he wasn't too worried. He had already learned the processing procedures for most herbs before, and he could deduce some of them by looking at the categories of herbs, not to mention that he could just follow Snape's instructions.

Snape didn't say much, and took out the herbs to start treating the wound.

Loren hurriedly followed.

At first, they dealt with some flower and plant stems and leaves. Snape was a little faster, but Loren could barely keep up.

The number of herbs waiting to be processed in the box is decreasing, while the processed herbs are piled up in another empty box, growing higher and higher.

When they came to a piece of dark, tuberous herb, things changed.

Snape placed the tuber on the workbench, and with a swift and deft motion of Snape wand, he removed the tuber's black outer skin. The tuber's flesh was a deep purple with some red, oozing a dark red, sticky sap with a strange smell.

Then Snape carefully used the Levitation Charm to suspend the tuber in mid-air, waiting for the slime on the surface of the tuber to solidify into a thick film, and looked at Loren to the side.

Loren was dumbfounded. Seeing Snape's careful handling, not daring to touch the slime and using magic to cut it, he knew that the slime was no good.

He couldn't possibly be stupid enough to just grab a knife and cut it; who knows what would happen if he touched the slime?

He looked at Snape, and the two stared at each other for a long time. After confirming that Snape really wouldn't help, Loren turned to look at the herbs.

Fine, I'll do it myself then.

Unsure whether using a knife would affect the medicinal properties of the herbs, Loren decided to use Transfiguration to complete the operation.

"[Wingardium Leviosa] "

Suspend the skin that Snape cut off, and without changing the material, use Transfiguration to create a blade on it.

Loren was not yet able to skillfully manipulate the special blade with the Levitation Charm to cut through the tuber's skin; he could only slowly control the blade to make a slit in the tuber.

Having completed this step, he set the skin aside, exhaled, and prepared for the next step. Loren planned to use Transfiguration to widen the incision along the seam to the junction of the epidermis and the flesh, so that a layer of skin could be peeled off completely.

Such intricate Transfiguration were a considerable challenge for him.

Loren envisioned the Transfiguration in his mind, aiming the tip of his wand at the dark tuber.

"That's enough," Snape interrupted the Transfiguration that was being prepared. "While it's uncertain whether it will succeed, it will at least prove that you're not a fool who just sits around waiting to die."

"Just one drop of the slime from the Andean Nightmare Tuber can put you into a deep sleep until graduation." He pointed his wand and moved it back and forth, cutting off the tuber in front of Loren and suspending it in the air.

"You can go back now." Snape said without looking at the tuber sap, checking its consistency.

Why can't you just ask me if I have any ideas? Why do you have to mess with me like this?

"Goodnight, Professor." Loren thought to himself, but smiled and turned to leave.

Just as I stepped out of the storeroom, Snape's voice came from behind me, "Take the things off the table and give me a different result next week."

"This is the professor, this is the professor." Loren took a deep breath and told himself this.

On the table was a bottle about the size of a palm, which he recognized well; it contained Wolfsbane Potion.

Loren picked up the potion and noticed a piece of parchment underneath the bottle, probably some kind of homework assignment. Without even looking at it, he pocketed the parchment and left, not wanting to stay in the office any longer.

Walking slowly back to the Gryffindor Common Room, Loren tucked the potion into his robe pocket before opening the parchment to see what the assignments were for the week.

The ink on the parchment was still wet, so it must have been written not long ago. The first line in the center read, "Sectumsempra".

Back in his dorm room, Neville was already snoring. He had been skipping up and down the Gryffindor Tower that day, experiencing a huge emotional rollercoaster of grief and joy, leaving him physically and mentally exhausted.

Loren reached onto the bed, and a flash of silver light appeared beneath the unseen bedding.

The Duel Practice Room of the Fantasy Book.

The drawing of Rune has reached a bottleneck. Before understanding the true meaning of Rune, Negative Rune cannot correspond with Positive Rune, and practice will not be helpful.

Flamel was not surprised that Loren had chosen the dueling practice room.

"[Sectumsempra] "

Loren waved his wand, aiming directly at Flamel, who was floating in the air flipping through parchment.

"No, your wand didn't fire anything."

Flamel didn't even look up, but stared at the parchment and exclaimed, "The wizard who invented this spell was exceptionally talented, perfectly embodying the cutting properties."

The parchment contained the contents of the Sectumsempra, a copy of the Fantasy Book based on Loren's memories.

"But I don't recommend you continue practicing." Flamel looked up.

Upon hearing this, Loren stopped waving his wand and looked at Flamel in confusion, "Why?"

"The cutting in the spell has an irreversible property; in other words, it's black magic," Flamel paused, "It's a Dark Arts."

"Dark Arts?!"