The Head of Hufflepuff Must Get His Hands Dirty!

Patience.

It is the most important part of a hunt.

The scent of love spreads through the Forbidden Forest, carried by the wind.

Attracted by the flesh, many creatures come and go.

A starving pack of wolves greedily devours the fattest parts of the belly.

A fox with dull fur steals scraps of leg meat from the gaps.

Wild dogs and cats can only snatch a random piece and carry it away; they have no right to dine at the "table."

These creatures are unusually harmonious, with no fighting and no disputes.

They tacitly enjoy this feast that has fallen from the sky.

They are beasts at the top of the food chain, but in this forest, they only hold the status of "prey."

They cannot even fully enjoy this meal; before long, an old wolf lets out a panicked howl toward the sky, and the pack immediately flees with tails tucked, causing a chaotic scene and leaving behind a mess of claw marks and the better part of a dead cow.

The centaurs arrive.

They, too, have caught the scent of the Amortentia.

During his past trips to the Forbidden Forest, Harry has often encountered these fellows who fancy themselves the protectors of the woods, though they never greet him—Hagrid once said that centaurs despise humans, even if they are slightly more tolerant toward the young.

Staying away from unnecessary danger is the most important rule of survival.

The leader glances at the stars and lets out a long sigh.

He does not touch the cow on the ground, turning instead to lead his kin away.

It seems they came specifically to drive the beasts away.

Deep into the night.

Clop, clop, clop—

Crisp hoofbeats approach from afar, and a bloated, fat creature emerges cautiously from the bushes, the target Harry has been waiting for finally appearing.

It greedily sniffs the rich scent in the air.

Pure, loyal love!

But upon seeing the source of the scent—the mangled, half-eaten cow carcass—the creature tilts its head in confusion; a cow does not seem like a creature capable of much loyalty in love.

Perhaps this is an exception.

A meal that suits its taste like this is rare; there aren't many even in the castle outside the forest.

It walks over, lowers its head, and licks a mouthful of blood.

The taste in its mouth is a bit off.

It hesitates, then licks a second time, aiming for the part where the scent of love is strongest.

This time, it is certain.

Fake!

This is not love!

It is false, ugly, and forged to deceive it.

The Bicorn lets out an angry roar, raises its hooves, and vents its rage by stomping the cow carcass into smithereens.

This is the best moment!

Harry finally makes his move, pulling a potion vial from under his robes and throwing it at the beast. With a crash, the bottle shatters, and the murky gray liquid splashes onto the bloated body, instantly causing dense, itchy scabs to erupt on its skin—Neville's failed potion.

The strange sensation on its skin makes the Bicorn cry out in pain.

Harry continues to wave his wand, swish, swish—

The vines tied to the cow, like snakes, coil around the beast, restricting its movements.

"Aguamenti!"

"Glacius!"

He fires off more spells.

The water splashes onto it, quickly freezing into solid ice, further strengthening the restraint.

The Bicorn struggles violently, crying out in panic, as magic begins to gather on its two horns—black mist, heavy and filled with an ominous aura.

"Relaxation Charm!" Harry follows up with another spell.

He then forms a hand seal.

"Igni!"

A serpent of molten fire wraps around its neck, scorching its skin.

Harry casts a golden Quen shield upon himself before throwing off his Invisibility Cloak, drawing his sword, and charging forward.

However, the Bicorn has been waiting for this very moment.

Seeing the figure appear, the black magic on its horn shot toward Harry immediately—

Harry rolled to the side, having been prepared, but the curse curved, chasing Harry and slamming hard against his shield, sending up a brilliant spray of golden sparks.

A few remnants of black mist landed on his robes.

With a hiss—

It dissolved the fabric, penetrating effortlessly to drip onto the Troll leather armor; the meager, weakened magic could not pierce the armor's defense, and after a few sizzling sounds, it vanished completely.

The Bicorn began to condense a second curse.

Harry did not give it the chance; he raised his sword and slashed toward its neck, at the spot already scorched and charred by flames.

The blade was sharp, severing it right through the bone.

The massive head rolled away, the horn catching on the ground and coming to a stop beside the cow carcass.

"I didn't expect you to use this method..." the Sorting Hat said, its tone complex and filled with a hint of melancholy.

"What did you expect?" Harry countered. "That I would charge straight at it like I did with the Troll that day?"

He waved his wand.

Vines bound the cow carcass once more and slammed it onto the Bicorn's severed head.

The moment the flesh touched the horns, the massive, evil curse exhausted its final shred of vitality and erupted; black mist filled the air, and the cow carcass rapidly withered, becoming filthy and foul-smelling.

It was a shocking sight.

"This isn't very Gryffindor at all," the Sorting Hat muttered. "You could have handled it head-on."

"But this is safe; this is a '4X' rated dark magical creature," Harry replied. He used the cow carcass for a few more tests, and only after confirming there was no residual curse did he crouch down to process the materials.

Why fight head-on when you can ambush?

The Sorting Hat kept grumbling about the glory of wizards and the honor of combat.

Harry cut off the Bicorn horns and stuffed them into the hat, plugging its mouth.

Harry slipped out of the Forbidden Forest, but he did not return to the Gryffindor tower immediately; instead, he headed straight for the third floor.

"Wait, Harry, where are you going?" The Sorting Hat realized something was wrong and whispered a warning, "This isn't the way back to the tower."

"I know," Harry nodded, his tone calm.

When he reached Professor McGonagall's office, he took off his Invisibility Cloak and knocked on the door respectfully.

Before long, the door opened.

Professor McGonagall, wearing cat-patterned pajamas, opened the door and looked surprised to see Harry: "I thought it was Filch; why are you here, Harry?"

"It is past curfew..."

"Professor, I just violated school rules and went to the Forbidden Forest," Harry answered honestly.

Professor McGonagall was even more surprised, letting out a gasp: "Oh, my, this..."

Harry's words left her unable to form an effective reaction.

She knew well how unruly the Little Lions could be.

Bullying professors, wandering at night, breaking into the Restricted Section and the Forbidden Forest...

But Hogwarts had always been this way—as long as you weren't caught, you were a good student who followed the rules.

Coming to a professor to turn himself in, and with such an impatient expression...

Harry was the first.

There had been one time last semester, but she later learned the reason was that Harry had run into Quirrell in the Forbidden Forest.

Dumbledore had told Harry to give him an explanation.

And Harry had brought that explanation to her.

What was it for today?

Had he run into another dark wizard?

Her expression turned horrified: "Potter, you aren't hurt, are you? What did the dark wizard look like..."

"Professor, Hogwarts might not be that safe," Harry said tactfully, "but it isn't like a sieve, letting dark wizards in every other day."

"There were only those magical creatures in the Forbidden Forest."

"Nothing happened?" McGonagall asked suspiciously.

Harry nodded: "Nothing happened." At least, nothing happened to him.

"Then you should go back to sleep, Mr. Potter," Professor McGonagall sighed in relief. "Don't do this again; the Forbidden Forest is no place for a young wizard..."

"Professor, shouldn't you give me detention?" Harry asked.

McGonagall froze.

So...

Harry had come to turn himself in so late at night, just for this?

She thought of Flitwick's appearance, her heart tightening with a sense of foreboding.

Before she could speak.

"I have detention with Professor Snape every Thursday and Saturday," Harry suggested, "how about every Wednesday and Friday?"

"That should be fine." McGonagall nodded hesitantly.

"Then we shall meet tomorrow... no, tonight." Harry bowed slightly, "Goodnight, Professor McGonagall, sleep well."

"Goodnight." McGonagall waved numbly, bidding Harry farewell.

"Wait, Minerva, Harry is provoking you!" the Sorting Hat shouted, "This audacious little lion is doing it on purpose."

"Shouldn't... Gryffindor lose twenty points?"

Professor McGonagall's eyes turned dangerous, fixing a sharp gaze upon the hat.

The Sorting Hat's voice grew weaker: "Perhaps ten points?"

"Deduct fifty points from the Sorting Hat." Harry patted it, "When it can be solved with detention, why resort to point deductions?"

"Professor, I apply for a full school year of detention."

McGonagall's heart skipped a beat, and she waved her hand: "No, trespassing in the Forbidden Forest only warrants half a month..."

"I might go again in the future." Harry shrugged, his expression indifferent, "Better to extend it all at once, so we don't waste time next time."

McGonagall sighed in conflict.

Once Harry had walked away.

She felt listless—every Head of House hopes for an outstanding student, and they take pride in them, but... this level of hunger is something else.

She could already foresee that in half a year, she would end up just like Flitwick.

Yet, she did not feel repulsed.

Harry was more special than any other student.

Others only had to face their O.W.L.s and N.E.W.T.s, but he had to face Voldemort.

Snape was truly detestable.

Why on earth would he stuff bezoars into Dumbledore's head, leading him to make the foolish decision of letting a first-year wizard face Voldemort?

"Gryffindor loses five points." Professor McGonagall muttered reluctantly; the Sorting Hat's reminder of her strict standards as Deputy Headmistress had forced her hand.

That hat had spent too much time with Dumbledore and had been infected by him.

Back in her office, she began to ponder how to drag the Hufflepuff Head of House into this mess; she had heard Dumbledore mention that Harry was learning spells from Snape.

With three of the four Heads of House already tormented by him, it wouldn't do for the last one to remain unscathed.

Gryffindor common room.

It was quiet.

Only two people sat by the fireplace.

Ron was slumped over the table, a book in his hand, fast asleep, yet his mouth hadn't rested, still reciting the Transfiguration Code.

Hermione was holding a Potent Potion.

Hearing the commotion, she turned her head and, seeing it was Harry, hurriedly put down the book: "Harry, you're back? Why so late?"

It was already past two in the morning.

"That creature was a bit cautious and refused to show itself." Harry waved his hand, "But the result was good; I got the item."

Thanks to Su sr for the tip!

Thanks to Otsutsuki Urashiki, Jiraiya, White Dragon Immortal, and Dante's Throne for the tips!

There will be another update tonight, 4K! I didn't manage to write 4K this afternoon QAQ!