Knowing When to Stop, and Showing Some Sportsmanship
The Goblin whispered among themselves, discussing their next move.
After a moment, Manager Scad spoke up, "Mr. Potter, the Gringotts Council still needs to discuss your concerns internally. As for the warning we just received, we will take it seriously."
Harry understood and nodded slightly.
The Goblin- like seriousness and internal discussions almost translate to "Deal made, but we need to go through a process and discuss the details."
He was already familiar with this awkward acceptance that was unique to Goblin.
"Of course, that's only right." Harry responded with equally impeccable diplomatic language. "Gringotts is known for its prudence. I only hope that the necessary vigilance will not be relaxed during your discussions."
He gave Bodric a meaningful look, and the latter shifted uncomfortably.
Clearly, Bodric understood what Harry said.
"Of course," Manager Scad replied curtly, regaining his professional, calm smile. "Gringotts security is always on standby."
"That's good." Harry nodded, saying no more.
As the saying goes, one should know when to stop and uphold martial ethics.
He has laid out the stakes and the framework for cooperation; the rest is up to the Goblin to weigh and decide.
He believed that with Scad's shrewdness, they knew how to choose, especially in the face of the threat posed by the names Voldemort and Runcorn.
Of course, for the Goblin, the threat posed by Runcorn and Voldemort was actually quite far away.
The real threat closest to them was none other than Harry Potter himself!
He nodded slightly again, this time as a clear farewell, then turned and walked steadily out of the manager's office.
The heavy wooden door closed silently behind him, separating the inside from the outside.
Inside the door, the Goblin whispered amongst themselves in hushed tones, and Scad quickly issued a few brief commands.
Outside, Gringotts Hall was bustling with activity as always, the Goblin engrossed in ledgers and coins, completely unaware of the secret talks that had just taken place that could potentially impact the financial order and even the balance of power in the magical world.
Harry walked through the marble hall, ignoring the curious or appraising glances cast at him from the counters on either side.
He didn't need the Goblin to make public statements, nor did he need any blood oaths.
This tacit understanding is sometimes more flexible and better able to adapt to the ever-changing undercurrents of the magical world than a written contract.
As he walked outside Gringotts, the afternoon sun made him squint slightly.
He reached into his pocket, pulled out his phone, and dialed Veratia's number.
"Harry?" Veratia's voice rang out. "Looks like your work went very smoothly, didn't it? You got the results you wanted in less than an hour?"
"Hmm," Harry said with a smile, "The Goblin are quite pragmatic; that's the ancient wisdom that has allowed them to survive to this day."
"What kind of wisdom?" Veratia chuckled. "Is it about being a fence-sitter? Or about surviving in the cracks? That's certainly a kind of wisdom."
It's clear that Veratia doesn't feel any affection for Goblin at all.
After all, they had seen the various faces of Goblin a hundred years ago and had a very clear understanding of the nature of this race.
"In a way, yes." Harry said into his phone as he strolled leisurely through Diagon Alley. "They're masters at finding a balance among the powerful, ensuring they're always part of the winning hand, not just a pawn on the board. But this time, they should understand that there's no neutral position on Voldemort and Runcorn's chessboard; Gringotts itself might be a castle to be devoured."
"So, they chose to subtly follow our lead and place their bets first." Veratia's voice carried a knowing tone, then she changed the subject, "Cass just sent word that through an old connection in North America made by Lucius Malfoy," mentioning that during the second survey of the Ministry of Magic ruins, hidden Goblin runes were discovered, related to certain legends of the gates passed down from the ancient Goblin Kingdom. Cassandra is analyzing them, and they seem to match the map fragments very closely. After the analysis is complete, you'll need to return to Vienna."
"Okay, I understand," Harry nodded.
"Alright, we'll see you again in a while," Veratia said. "I'll let you know as soon as I have any news—and don't let the training of the Hogwarts students fall behind. The situation is getting more and more serious every day, and we can't take care of everyone perfectly. Of course, they need to have a certain level of self-defense ability."
"Hmm," Harry replied, his eyes scanning the passing crowd. "You can rest assured about that."
After exchanging a few more words, Harry hung up the phone and put it back in his pocket.
He made a special trip to Florin Ice Cream Shop to buy an ice cream with extra chopped nuts on top.
Harry lingered in Diagon Alley until nightfall before turning into an empty alley. After confirming that no one was around, he spun around rapidly and disappeared into the air with a soft popping sound.
Upon returning to Hogwarts, Harry summoned students from three grades for a special training session on Friday evening.
Ron and his friends seemed unusually enthusiastic, after all, having been tortured by the Dementor themselves, they were eager to see how the other students were tortured.
Friday night arrived quickly, amidst their anticipation and the students' sighs of despair.
This time, instead of going to the Room of Requirement, they gathered in a specially cleared area on the edge of the Forbidden Forest.
A cold wind howled, carrying the damp chill of the Black Lake and the eeriness of the Forbidden Forest.
The sky was overcast and dark, with only a few pale white orbs of magical light that Harry had lit around the area maintaining their illumination.
--
The fourth, fifth, and sixth grade students—about fifty in total—stood in several loose formations, each gripping their wand tightly, their faces showing varying degrees of tension.
The white breath they exhaled quickly dissipated in the cold wind.
Isn't it strange? Although it's early summer, the temperature is still chilly.
Harry stood on a rock in front of them, his black hair slightly disheveled by the wind.
"Good afternoon." His voice carried clearly to everyone's ears, not particularly loud, but still able to cut through the wind. "I know the weather is terrible, and the location isn't comfortable. But Dementor don't show up on sunny days or near warm fireplaces. What they love most is this kind of environment that chills you to the bone and instills despair—or rather, the kind of environment they create."
Several students shivered, whether from the cold or from the word "Dementor," it was unclear.
"Who can tell me why?" Harry asked with a smile.
Colin raised his hand.
"You answer," Harry said, pointing at Colin.
Colin cleared his throat.
"Dementor are blind and feed on positive human emotions, forcing their victims to relive their worst memories over and over again. When Dementor appears, the surrounding environment becomes eerily cold, and this effect intensifies as the number of Dementor increases."
"That's right." Harry nodded, confirming Colin's words. "You're absolutely right, that's one of the characteristics of Dementor —so, to make early summer so cold and gloomy, how many Dementor do you think there are?"
This was an unexpected path, and everyone looked at each other in bewilderment.
Immediately afterwards, his hair stood on end.
no?
How many Dementor did it take to create this effect?!
"Numbers aren't what you need to worry about right now," Harry's voice rang out, quelling any signs of panic. "What's important is that no matter how many come, the core of the coping mechanism you've learned remains unchanged—the essence of the Patronus Charm is the expulsion of their inherent darkness by the light within you. A larger number simply means you need to be more resolute and more cooperative."
His gaze swept across the crowd, lingering briefly on Draco, Ron, Hermione, and Luna, who were all standing there expectantly, seemingly eager to see what would happen next.
They're all a bunch of bloodthirsty spectators, but that's what we're here to see—it's worth the ticket price!
"Last week, the core group had a preview of how to maintain the Patronus one-on-one under the pressure of Dementor and attempted to use the Patronus Charm to exorcise Dementor," Harry continued. "Today, most of those present will not only be learning about the Patronus Charm but also experiencing their first real-world encounter. The core members' task, in addition to completing their own drills, is to observe and provide support, and rescue them if necessary."
"Alright, let's start with the basics." Harry waved his wand, and several orbs of soft, warm light rose, slightly dispelling the biting chill. "The first stage today is to Awakening and strengthen your Patronus. The second stage is facing the stress test I've carefully prepared for you."
He jumped off the rock and walked to the front of the students' formation.
"Everyone, close your eyes, temporarily forget the cold around you, forget the Dementor that may be there. Delve into the depths of your memories, and find that moment of intense joy—at least for you at this stage. It doesn't have to be earth-shattering, but it must be real enough, warm enough, so that just thinking about it makes your lips curl into a smile and fills your heart with strength."
The students closed their eyes as instructed, and various expressions appeared on their faces. Some frowned and tried hard to remember, some gradually relaxed, and some even had the corners of their mouths turned up.
"Grasp it, feel it. Let that joy fill your heart." Harry's voice was slow but clear, carrying a strange soothing quality. "Then, open your eyes, raise your wand, and clearly pronounce the spell—EpectoPatronum!" Patronus Charm the same time, firmly swing your wrist forward—not a poke, not a flick, but a swing of the wand! Let your joy materialize through the wand!"
He demonstrated once, and a large, silvery-white Phoenix spewed from the tip of his staff, circling the crowd several times.
The students gazed at the enormous Patronus Phoenix and couldn't help but let out a soft gasp of amazement.
Phoenix Patronus!
It's a good thing Gellert isn't here, otherwise he would definitely be thinking about something.
"Now, form groups of four, practice freely! Observe each other and remind each other—is the recall strong enough? Are the spell syllables clear? Are there any unwanted accents?—As for Ron, your task is to circulate and provide guidance, helping those who encounter difficulties!"
The students sprang into action, a murmur of discussion and attempts at chanting filling the air.
Hermione was immediately surrounded by several Gryffindor girls, who bombarded her with questions about the memory selection.
Ron was pulled aside by several Gryffindor boys, who were more concerned with whether his movements were cool enough and whether he could throw a Phoenix like Potter.
Several Slytherin students gathered around Draco, arms crossed, his face still bearing his usual smug expression, but the issues he pointed out were often spot-on.
It must be said that, as expected of Slytherin, their teaching style is not so much completely different from Snape's, but rather strikingly similar.
Luna stood alone a little further away, head tilted back, her wand waving gently. A little rabbit popped out from the tip of the wand, hopping and leaping back and forth in mid-air.
She seemed completely immersed in her own world, but when the little rabbit Patronus occasionally passed by a student, she would unconsciously feel much calmer.
Harry moved between the groups, stopping occasionally to offer guidance.
"Colin! Don't be nervous, think about how you felt when you successfully cast your first spell—yes, that's it, grab it! Try again!"
"And you, Daniel, your memory and spellcasting are excellent, but your magic output could be more consistent. Try to control it, rather than indulge it, understand?"
The practice lasted for about half an hour, and then silver light began to gradually illuminate the open space.
Some were just small, blurry wisps of light, flickering intermittently; others could barely last for a while, emitting a faint warmth.
Almost none of the students were able to summon a fully formed Patronus, except for one Slytherin girl who summoned a Silver Fox.
Harry recognized her; she was Daphne's sister, Astoria Greengrass.
The little girl seemed to be sick— Harry wasn't insulting her, but he could tell that the little girl was indeed ill.
If Harry's reading is correct, it should be some kind of Blood Curse?
"Well done, well done!" Harry said, clapping. "I really didn't expect you all to be able to practice so well so quickly."
As a qualified teacher, Harry certainly wouldn't judge his classmates based on his own abilities, but he was not immune to a flaw—couldn't even the dumbest person learn the Protego and control the Fiendfyre?
It wasn't until Dumbledore told him to try to accept the mediocrity of his students, and Harry came to understand this more deeply during his time teaching, that he knew what he should do.