Amortentia (Seek Your Support)

The range of activity for creatures does not change much when the environment remains largely the same.

Bicorns still frequented those same few locations.

In fact...

Harry even discovered a pile of very fresh dung, excreted less than a day ago, enough to track the creature by its scent.

But he did not act immediately; before a hunt, one must make ample preparations.

Gryffindor common room.

Hermione was up early, seeing Harry hunched over the table, his quill flying across the parchment: "What are you busy with? Is it homework assigned by Professor Flitwick?"

"I'm pondering an attractant for the Bicorn." Harry shook his head.

Hermione sat down: "Have you already found them?"

"Mm." Harry nodded, "I found traces last night. It looks like there's only one, so I plan to make some bait and set a few traps."

Hermione leaned over. She seemed to have taken a shower last night, as her hair held the faint scent of mistletoe.

On the parchment, the two names written at the top were striking.

"Oh..."

"Professor Snape, Mr. Weasley—are you planning to consult them?"

"But wouldn't asking Professor Snape be a bit too obvious?"

Harry's expression remained blank: "I was wondering if I could lure them in to serve as bait."

Hermione looked up, staring at him in horror.

"Bicorns are most fond of loyal men." Harry explained, "They are both qualified, and they both have the strength; it's not as if they couldn't handle a single Bicorn."

So that was it...

Hermione let out a breath and nodded; it made a lot of sense.

"But Professor Snape would likely try to shove a bezoar down my throat." Harry spread his hands, "And Mr. Weasley is very busy; I shouldn't trouble him."

"Unicorn hair, roses, lilies..." Hermione read the text beneath the names, looking a bit confused, "These materials, their magical properties don't seem to harmonize?"

"They all have symbolic meaning." Harry pointed to the words, "Loyalty, love, devotion..."

"Symbols often contain magic as well." Hermione recited a passage from Lily's notes—and following this sentence was: "When handling these symbolically significant materials, one's technique and state of mind must align as closely as possible with the material's symbolism. When the symbolism is violated, the magic of the materials often weakens, or even disappears."

Harry nodded.

Hermione began to discuss it with him; when it came to the language of flowers, girls always knew more than boys.

Lilies were actually not suitable.

Their meaning leaned more toward loyalty and dignity, implying more of a bond between a sovereign and a subject.

Red roses symbolized passionate love.

But for a creature like a Bicorn, perhaps white roses, which symbolized pure love, would be easier to attract it with.

It was eight-thirty.

They were still confirming which materials could be put to use.

Ron came rushing out of the dormitory, stumbling and scrambling: "It's over, it's over, Harry didn't even wake me, I'm late—"

Before he could finish shouting, his gaze fell upon Hermione and Harry, who were sitting in the common room looking perfectly relaxed. His upper body froze while his lower body instinctively kept running, causing him to stumble and fall to the floor, stuttering: "Why... why are you guys still here?"

"The first period is at nine, there's still over half an hour." Hermione put down her pen, "Though we should go and get ready."

"It's clearly almost ten o'clock right now!" Ron shrieked, his voice laced with a hint of a breakdown, "It's over, even Hermione got the time wrong..."

Harry closed his notebook: "I set your alarm clock an hour fast. You always say you don't have any energy in the morning; don't you feel much better now?"

"Harry." Ron paused, feeling very aggrieved, "I thought I was going to be late on the first day, this kind of joke..."

"Isn't it amusing?" At Harry's waist, the tip of the hat lifted the hem of his robe.

"Was this your idea, Mr. Hat?" Ron's eyes turned dangerous.

The Sorting Hat was righteous and indignant: "Of course, our dear Harry doesn't have such a rich sense of humor."

Ron clenched his fists.

The hat retracted its tip and hummed a cheerful little tune. It was fearless—it was hanging on Harry's waist, after all; it didn't believe Ron would dare to retaliate against it.

The first day of school at Hogwarts was a Wednesday.

Compared to the first year, the schedule was much fuller. At nine o'clock, there was Charms—it was visibly apparent that Professor Flitwick was a bit haggard, though his teaching quality had not declined.

After Charms ended, they had an hour and a half break, and by noon, Potions awaited them.

After experiencing the familiar and long-missed "Ten points from Gryffindor, Harry Potter!", the Little Lions of Gryffindor finally had the feeling of having returned to Hogwarts.

The afternoon was History of Magic.

The Little Lions and the Little Eagles were drowsy—most of them, like Ron, had been too excited last night, stayed up very late, and struggled to get out of bed.

By three o'clock, the day's classes had fully concluded.

"I've got it!" On the way to the Great Hall, Hermione looked up, exclaiming in sudden realization.

"Thought of what to eat?" Ron picked up the thread, "I hope there's lamb chops today..."

Hermione looked displeased: "No, not food."

"It's Amortentia."

Ron's footsteps faltered as he looked at Harry: "Hey, I don't think drugging Harry is a wise choice, and you shouldn't be saying it to his face, either."

"No, not for Harry!" Hermione's face flushed red, and she shot Ron a fierce glare.

"But it's a fake love..." Harry frowned.

Hermione shook her head: "But it behaves just like the real thing—intense, passionate, and unwavering. Besides, I read in a book that everyone smells what attracts them the most."

"This might prove useful."

Harry looked thoughtful: "But it requires Ashwinder eggs, which is also a restricted ingredient."

The

Potent Potion

book contained the formula for Amortentia.

"It doesn't need to be that complicated." Hermione perked up, "I can get some. I mean, some of the older girls have them on hand."

"Carrying Amortentia around?" Harry's expression was strange.

Hermione explained dryly: "You know how it is, love—some witches will stop at nothing."

Ron still hadn't caught on: "Who are you two drugging? Him, or her?"

"I don't think this is a good idea."

"Especially with both of you doing it together..."

"It's for it!" Hermione gritted her teeth, "The Bicorn, have you forgotten Harry's trial?"

Ron suddenly understood, slapping his own thigh: "But why use a love potion? Oh, Harry, you wouldn't happen to..."

He seemed to imagine some outrageous scene, and his expression turned grim.

"It seems our Mr. Weasley needs to catch up on his studies." Hermione continued, gritting her teeth, "While we were trying to find a solution to this, what was Mr. Weasley thinking about?"

"Whether we could have lamb chops tonight," Harry added.

Ron lowered his head, his face turning bright red, muttering: "What's wrong with lamb chops!"

"Harry, you said you wanted French food yesterday, too."

They soon arrived at the Great Hall.

After doing homework for a while, dinnertime arrived.

The plates produced the French-style pan-seared lamb chops Ron had been hoping for. He devoured three of them before patting his stomach and returning to the common room with Harry and the others.

Hermione, teased by a group of older girls, returned with a flushed face, holding a small vial of potion. It was kept in a slender-necked bottle, shimmering with a pearlescent luster, with a spiral of misty vapor swirling around the rim.

"Thanks." Harry took it and tucked it inside the Sorting Hat.

Ron looked at the group of older girls who were whispering and glancing over from time to time, feeling curious: "Hermione, what excuse did you use..."

"Don't ask!" Hermione's face turned even redder, and she slammed the table, looking fierce.

Ron shuddered, nodding like a chicken pecking at rice.

Hermione looked particularly unapproachable today.

"George." Harry beckoned to the two playing Wizard's Chess by the fireplace, "Do you know where the kitchens are?"

George immediately flipped the chessboard over.

The chess pieces let out a chorus of shrieks.

"Hey, Harry, you can't do that, he was about to lose!" Fred scooped up the pieces, his tone dissatisfied.

George acted as if he hadn't heard him and scurried over: "You want to know where the kitchens are?"

Harry nodded.

"They're right under the Great Hall." George explained, "If you follow the underground corridor, you'll find a painting of fruit."

"Just reach out and tickle the pear, and it will open the door to the kitchen for you." Fred followed, clutching a chess piece he was trying to stuff into George's mouth—their wager—and added, "The House-elves inside are very hospitable."

"Whatever you want, they'll provide it for you."

"And they won't tell the professors."

"House-elves!" Hermione exclaimed, "How can there be such dangerous creatures in the castle?"

"Dangerous?" The Weasley brothers were taken aback.

"Why would Miss Granger say that?" George asked, puzzled, "I don't think I've ever seen a book that describes them as dangerous?"

Hermione shook her head, feeling a wave of frustration at the mention of it: "No, not in books—it was over the summer."

"Harry encountered a House-elf, and it caused him a lot of trouble."

"It confiscated so many of my letters!"

Ron chimed in, "And mine too. I lost a Potions essay, and I was planning to have Harry look it over for me."

"House-elves wouldn't do anything outside of their master's orders." Fred frowned, "It seems someone is targeting you, Harry."

George looked equally serious, "I suggest you tell a professor. Their Apparition is a nuisance."

"They can even Apparate within Hogwarts."

Harry waved his hand, "Relax, it was already caught by Professor Flitwick. The matter is resolved."

"Rest easy," George said lightly, "The house-elves in the kitchen belong to Hogwarts. Perhaps you've noticed, Harry? We have all signed a contract with the castle."

"As long as we are in the castle, we are their masters."

"You can use them without worry."

"No house-elf can ever harm its master."

Hermione let out a sigh of relief.

She had been so worried that another elf like Dobby might pop up.

Ron's mind began to wander, "Does that mean I can tell an elf what I want to eat tomorrow, and they'll prepare it for me?"

"Yes," George nodded, "Every Hufflepuff does that."

"But they rarely tell anyone else," Fred shook his head.

"Perhaps they're worried that if too many people find out, the professors will forbid it?"

"Besides, isn't it quite fun not knowing what you'll be eating tomorrow?"

There will be another update tonight, around eight o'clock~

Thanks to Hong Hao for the tip, and thanks to Little Babel Spirit and Book Friend 0233 for the tips!