School or Babysitting

In the Headmaster's Office, Dumbledore, Grindelwald, and McGonagall were chatting. Seeing Bing Huan suddenly barge in, Dumbledore poured him a cup of tea, motioned for him to sit, and asked,

"What's wrong, child?"

"It's that Snape."

Professor McGonagall lightly tapped Bing Huan on the forehead. "You should call him Professor Snape."

"I just can't bring myself to." Bing Huan curled up on the sofa, cheeks puffed out. Grindelwald raised an eyebrow. "What did that boy do to make you this mad?"

"In class, he started off by asking Harry questions about material from two chapters ahead just to make things difficult for him. Does Harry look like the sort who studies ahead? He asked three questions in a row, and the little girl next to him had her hand practically poking through the ceiling, but Snape didn't even glance at her. I kindly advised her to stop raising her hand, and what do you know? He took a point off me.

"Harry told him to ask Hermione instead, and Snape called it talking back to a teacher and took five points. Then, during Potions, he took another point from each of us. His reasoning was that Harry hadn't warned him, and I'd warned him but hadn't kept an eye on him. What kind of nonsense is that? Old Dumbledore, I'm telling you, a few more classes like this and forget Harry—I'm going to get into it with him myself."

The more he talked, the more worked up he got. Bing Huan was ready to challenge Snape to a duel. Grindelwald and McGonagall hurriedly held him back.

Professor McGonagall patted his back. "All right, all right. Don't be angry. Severus has been like this for years. But this time, he really did go too far. Regardless, Little Huan did nothing wrong. Albus, Gryffindor won't accept those two deductions."

Dumbledore nodded in agreement. "I'll announce that they've been taken back. But, Little Huan, Severus has his reasons for acting this way. For one thing, he hopes Harry will study hard and not let his reputation blind him. After all, Harry has too many accomplishments on his shoulders that he never should have had to bear."

After hearing that, Bing Huan let out a deep breath. "All right, I can accept that. What's the second reason?"

Dumbledore took a book called The Language of Flowers in the Victorian Era from the bookshelf beside him. He opened it to the entry for the two ingredients. "Daffodil bulbs are actually a kind of lily that resembles a daffodil. In a sense, they represent Lily. Their flower language is 'my remorse will follow you to the grave.'

"And the prepared Draught of Living Death is also known as 'a living hell, a miserable life.' It means 'living in torment, worse than death, half-dead, though alive as good as dead.' What he means is that the lily fell into bitter sorrow: 'I deeply regret your mother's death, and have lived a miserable, hellish life ever since.'"

The three of them had only known the broad strokes of the matter. This was the first time they'd heard Dumbledore explain it in such detail, and for a moment, none of them knew what to say.

After a long while, Bing Huan couldn't help speaking up. "I won't deny Snape's contributions or how he felt about Aunt Lily, but that's such a twisted way of expressing himself... Who would understand what he means? Why do all you adults like talking in riddles?"

"Hey, I don't," said Grindelwald. "Albus and I have never kept things from each other. I always keep our blood pact in the pocket over my heart." As he spoke, Grindelwald took out the blood pact and tilted his head at Dumbledore, raising an eyebrow.

Dumbledore: ლ(´= ◡ =｀)

Bing Huan, McGonagall: ( ¬､¬)

Bing Huan took a bite of his biscuit. "Wait, if there were all these reasons behind it, why did he take so many points off us afterward?"

"Habit." A low voice suddenly sounded. Snape had appeared at the entrance to the Headmaster's Office at some point. Professor McGonagall was not pleased. "Severus, what's that supposed to mean? Is Gryffindor your imaginary enemy? Albus, are you going to do anything about this?"

"Exactly!" ＼(｀0´)／

Dumbledore hurriedly called a halt. "Severus, you really shouldn't have taken those points today. Change them back."

Snape said, "I was somewhat unfair in deducting points from Mr. Bing, but every point I took from Harry Potter was... justified."

"Professor Snape~" Bing Huan sidled up to him. "If you don't change the points back today, I'll go back and badmouth you to Harry every day. I'll make Harry stare at you with Aunt Lily's face, like you're his enemy. Every day, every minute, every—moment—Hah—cough, cough..."

At that, Snape gave a couple of fake coughs. "Since this is your first offense, I'll only take one point for now. Don't do it again."

Bing Huan: ⌓‿⌓

"Hahahaha!" Grindelwald laughed and slung an arm around Bing Huan's neck. "How come I never realized you were so good at threatening and bribing people? It's a shame you were born so late. If I'd had you helping me back then, how could I have failed?"

"Little Huan," Dumbledore said, "now that I've sorted out the points for you, perhaps you could do this old man a favor, too."

"Sure. What do you need?"

Seeing Bing Huan relent, Dumbledore said, "It's nothing much. You've spent time with them now. What do you think?"

"They're a bunch of problem children. They have decent talent, but they still have a lot to learn. What about them? You don't have to ask me about Hermione—I'll keep an eye on her anyway. I've already promised you I'll look after Harry. Ron's no worse than the others."

"Ahem. Gell foresaw yesterday that Draco might be coerced into doing things he shouldn't because of his family. I hope you can help him—ideally, by bringing the entire Malfoy family over to our side. You know I can't get involved with the forces at play."

"...Old Dumbledore, I'm only a year or two older than them, not ten or twenty. What kind of task is this?"

"Those who can do more should do more. You wouldn't want to see a decent kid go astray, would you? And think about it—if things get chaotic later, Hermione will be caught up in it too, won't she?"

At that, Bing Huan furrowed his brows and looked at Dumbledore. "Old Dumbledore, I can take this on. I can help you guide your Chosen One, too, but don't try any tricks."

Dumbledore smiled and took a sip of tea. "Of course. I'll protect every one of my students." After Bing Huan left, McGonagall and Snape stared at Dumbledore in shock.

Grindelwald smiled as he looked toward the door. "You've always wondered why Albus let this boy join our plan, haven't you? The truth is, until he threatened Albus just now and let his aura show, neither of you had any idea how powerful he was.

"If he went all out, he might already be able to take me on. So, Albus, how does it feel to play the villain?"

Dumbledore said, "I had no choice. This little one may be the first to wake up at Hogwarts every day, but he's a little too laid-back when it comes to fighting spirit. He needs someone to protect, too. That was something his master asked me to arrange. There are only three years left."

Grindelwald looked at Dumbledore. "Don't worry. Once that matter is over in three years, I'll tell you everything from beginning to end, Albus. For now, you'll have to play the riddler with us."

Meanwhile, Bing Huan left the Headmaster's Office, composed himself, and slipped into the library. Sure enough, he found Hermione there. He tiptoed over and sat down. The little witch still seemed upset about the points she'd lost and wasn't interested in talking to Bing Huan.

Bing Huan shamelessly edged closer. "I didn't even do anything. Why are you mad at me, too?" Hermione rolled her eyes. He did have a point. But if she made up with him now, wouldn't she lose face? Someone leaned close to Hermione's ear. "As for those eight points from this morning, Dumbledore's already agreed that only the one Harry lost for talking back to Snape will stand."

"Really?"

"Would I lie to you? You don't have to worry about it now, right?"

Hermione tilted her head and thought it over. "But we still lost a point. You have to help me get it back. And you scared me in Potions. Enmm, as punishment, you have to let me have a piece of bread every day for a week."

"That's all?"

"There's nothing else I need your help with, and I don't really like anything else."

Bing Huan took out his communicator and got in touch with the person in charge of the Daoist Sect's operations in England, asking them to send over a batch of Chinese ingredients that evening. "Just wait. Tomorrow morning, I'll give you a little taste of what China can do."

Hermione: (･_･?)

The next day, Bing Huan got up early as usual. After meditating and doing his morning exercises, he headed to the kitchen and asked the House-elves to bring out the ingredients he'd asked them to prepare the day before.

He lifted the lid of the pot. The milky-white broth inside was still boiling. It was the essence of five spirit-beast meats, which he'd stripped of their excess spiritual energy before simmering them all night. With a hand seal, he made the broth visibly set into a jelly.

He took out a few more cuts of meat and a head of Chinese cabbage, chopped them into small pieces, then stirred them together and added various seasonings. After sealing the mixture, he asked a House-elf to speed up the marinating process. He went to the work surface, took out some flour, added water, and kneaded the dough.

The wrappers for soup dumplings had to be thin yet resilient, without affecting the eating experience. Once he was sure they were right, Bing Huan asked a House-elf to bring over the filling and soup jelly. He added a spoonful of filling and half a spoonful of jelly to each wrapper, and soon he had made more than thirty soup dumplings.

Each one had twelve pleats. Next, he just had to steam them. Looking at the steamer before him, Bing Huan remembered learning to cook from his Sixth Martial Uncle. It had been during the Cultivation World's New Year gathering, and every one of his uncle's soup dumplings had a hundred pleats. The ones he made for the various Sect Leaders had as many as 999.

Back then, Bing Huan could only manage six or seven pleats before he gave up. His uncle always laughed and told him he still needed practice. Fifteen minutes passed in no time. Inside the steamer, the jade-white dumplings rested quietly.

He placed each soup dumpling in its own little bamboo steamer and told the House-elves to send some to McGonagall and Grindelwald, too. But they absolutely could not give any to Dumbledore. Absolutely not!