Breeze's New Roommate

Leave Slytherin? All of Brie's efforts for so long would be in vain!

The rules of Slytherin were more convenient for Brie to act; as long as those Little Snakes had eyes, they could understand that he was not someone to be trifled with, and easier to manipulate.

A life of independence was comfortable, and he had no desire to squeeze in among a bunch of Badgers and pretend to be well-behaved. With the Little Snakes, he only needed to display his strength and no one would meddle in his affairs—it was very convenient.

Brie carried his trunk behind Snape, while Professor McGonagall, Professor Sprout, and Dumbledore had already been persuaded by Brie to return and rest; what followed was an internal Slytherin matter.

"You are not Muggle-born, nor are you a half-blood; it is highly likely that you are a pure-blood wizard." Snape, dragging his large robes as he walked in front, dropped this remark out of the blue.

"Me?"

Snape stopped at the entrance of the Slytherin common room, turned to look at Brie's oriental face, and said, "Magic is the answer. Throughout history, everyone who has manifested such peculiar magical phenomena like yours has had a pair of powerful wizard parents."

"The phenomenon is not a bloodline talent; the professors can tell."

"Astute!"

"Boom!" The door swung open following the password.

Inside the common room, the Slytherin Prefects were all present, and the few young wizards who had caused the trouble earlier did not dare to leave.

Brie's gaze swept over these people, and he smiled kindly.

"Oh, finally back."

Malfoy complained in a low voice from the side, having lost count of how many times he had yawned.

"Who was Breeze Order's roommate before?"

Everyone's eyes turned toward Blaise Zabini, the tall, thin, dark-skinned boy.

"It was me, Head of House."

Zabini did not back down, facing Snape directly.

"Very well. You will go and do Filch's dirty work for a month—do it by hand—and incidentally, I shall write a letter to Mrs. Zabini."

"And as for the rest of you... a bunch of troublemakers."

Snape looked at Brie first, then scanned the surroundings, finally letting his gaze fall on Malfoy. "Have Mr. Theodore Nott move in with Mr. Zabini, and Breeze Order will share a room with you."

Malfoy's eyes widened. He was to share a room with Breeze Order?

It didn't seem to have any downsides, and Malfoy had grown tired of that fellow Theodore's snoring anyway.

"Of course, who else but Malfoy would be as accommodating and understanding toward Mr. Oude?"

Soon, Theodore moved out of the original dormitory. Brie had the house-elves change the bedding and prepared to sleep; today's events had been far too sudden. As for the other Little Snakes still being lectured, that was none of his concern—after that incident, they had already gone their separate ways.

"How do you feel?"

Malfoy lay on the bed and asked Brie.

"Just changed a place to sleep. I prefer the view from the Owlery; it's too gloomy here, and the wind doesn't even blow in."

Brie answered truthfully, but he couldn't afford to be special yet; he didn't have the capital for that. Of course, there would always be a way. Perhaps he could use unicorn hair to craft an alchemy notebook capable of withstanding the power of space-time, which would allow for short-range teleportation—though that would require finding Trance Grass before he could experiment.

Before that, Brie needed to dispose of Quirrell's notebook. Going directly to Snape was one method; when two tigers fight, one is bound to get hurt, and Snape didn't seem to care for Quirrell anyway.

The next day, Brie slept in again, not waking until 10 o'clock. Realizing he had missed breakfast, Brie quickly ate in the kitchen, and then he needed to find Snape.

"Enter."

Snape's office was also on the basement level. Brie brought Quirrell's notebook to Snape's desk.

"Does Mr. Oude have some urgent matter?"

Snape looked at the notebook in Brie's hand and frowned.

"This is the notebook Professor Quirrell gave me when I was serving detention as his assistant. I feel there is something wrong with it; perhaps I could ask the professor for help."

"Oh, how grateful we are that our Mr. Oude has learned to seek out a professor." Snape spoke with his usual biting tone but honestly took the notebook Brie handed over. After flipping through it for a while, he asked sternly, "I trust the clever Mr. Oude has not been studying the Dark Arts within it."

"Of course. Any Dark Magic requires a matching malice, and I keep that in mind. I swear by the magic Merlin gave me that I have never learned a single spell from this notebook."

Snape was silent for a moment, then nodded. "Very well, you may leave. I will go and have a talk with Quirrell about his problems."

"Thank you, Professor Snape."

"Call me Head of House, Mr. Oude; you yourself admitted to being a Slytherin."

"Yes, Head of House."

Oude chuckled, appearing quite amiable. He soon left Snape's office; as for what happened afterward, it was not something Brie needed to participate in.

"According to some accounts, Snape was once a member of a dark force—a Death Eater—but Dumbledore protected him in court and even granted him the positions of Head of Slytherin House and Potions Class professor. If that is the case, he is someone who can be trusted in some matters; after all, Dumbledore can be trusted, can he not?"

Thinking this, Brie began to connect many recent events.

The werewolf in the Forbidden Forest sent word that outside werewolves were inciting their internal ranks; shortly after, a unicorn was hunted by a monster; Professor Quirrell's abnormality; the Sorcerer's Stone... the Master, and the forbidden area deep in the fourth-floor corridor, the sound of barking.

Quirrell's Master?

Who could it be? Is he a dark wizard preparing to contact werewolves from the outside to strike at Hogwarts? Is he hunting unicorns, and is the Sorcerer's Stone in the corridor?

Snape seems to know something, and Dumbledore likely does as well, but why would they allow Quirrell to remain at Hogwarts?

To lure the snake out of its hole? To catch a turtle in a jar?

Are they not afraid of harming the young wizards? This is a school, not the Ministry of Magic!

Breeze could not fathom it, nor did he want to get involved. It would be best to stay far away from Quirrell and focus on studying magic, which was the proper thing to do.

"Damn it, that monster is in the Forbidden Forest. How am I supposed to find Trance Grass?" Breeze sighed.

"I've learned all the spells I can for now. I have no leads on combining natural magic with incantations, and don't even get me started on Trance Grass. The pile of alchemy books in the turret is useless without materials. Now, I can only go to the Forbidden Section to look for books on the soul... and the library permit Professor McGonagall gave me."

Speaking of books, Breeze thought of meditation and the parchment book Professor Flitwick had given him. The magic of blessings and curses on the parchment was marvelous, sharing similarities with natural power, though to Breeze, it felt like a low-tier version of natural magic.

"Perhaps I haven't found the trick yet. Maybe I can find time to ask Professor Flitwick."

With a new plan for his studies, Breeze began preparing for the one o'clock Charms class. Today also included Flying Class and Astronomy Class in the evening; his schedule was packed.

Entering November, Hogwarts was blanketed in ice and snow, becoming exceptionally cold. The surface of the Black Lake had frozen into a thick sheet of ice, and Breeze rarely ventured out of the castle.

Inside the castle, thanks to the Flame Grass potion, it remained warm. Breeze had brewed some himself to keep the turret cozy; although the Four-Leaf Vine could also withstand the cold, Breeze clearly preferred a warm room.

Although Breeze had to return to Slytherin every night to rest, he spent all his other spare time reading in the turret.

In the afternoon, inside the turret:

"Portrait of the Soul—this is the only book I hold any hope for."

For over a month, Breeze had frequently run to the Forbidden Section. However, because Madam Pince checked the books every day, especially the dangerous ones, Breeze could not take them out. He could only record notes in the Forbidden Section, spending the rest of his time studying subjects other than Charms; he couldn't just fixate on spells alone.

Looking at the methods for detaining souls recorded in his notes, Breeze curled his lip in misunderstanding. Such techniques were too crude; how much soul energy could they possibly retain?

"No wonder. A Portrait of the Soul doesn't require much of the soul at all. If a large amount of soul energy were left behind, the deceased might be unable to go to hell or heaven and would become unfortunate..."

Although he held no faith in these things like hell or heaven, Breeze had learned from witnessing the soul of the dying unicorn that a unicorn's soul would return to its origin. Perhaps that was a beautiful destination, the beginning of another journey.

"But what if one were to use natural magic to cast this soul-detention spell?"

Breeze could not experiment, nor did he want to. It was unfair to the soul. Unless it was an enemy, Breeze could not cross his own moral bottom line.

"Maintaining one's bottom line and inner persistence is the only way to overcome the influence of Dark Magic. That is what the notes of the Master of the Turret said, and I believe it still applies to soul magic."

"It's a pity it's still too crude; it's not entirely effective. The Master of the Turret only sold his soul because he crossed that line."

Putting down the notebook, Faner crawled to Breeze's side and said worriedly, "Breeze, soul magic is too dangerous. Let's find another way. Perhaps we can ask the professors for help."

Professors?

No, this was Breeze's secret. He would absolutely not tell anyone he didn't trust. Even Faner only knew because of the existence of their contract.

"Faner, this is something only I can handle."

"Just as I only make decisions for myself, other people's affairs are their own choices. Conversely, no one else can decide my fate. Everyone has their own path; no one will help you unconditionally."

"Perhaps I will choose wrongly, but I have no reason to regret it. That is enough."

"Don't mention the matter of Quirrell's notes, because that is not a secret that cannot be told. Telling others won't affect me."

"Quirrell isn't going to kill me over a notebook, haha."

Breeze stood up. Tomorrow was the final of the Quidditch tournament: Gryffindor versus Slytherin. The previous month had seen the conclusion of all other house matches, and now this was the game that would decide the final entry. The Quidditch championship was worth 150 house points.

It was a pity that Breeze had absolutely no interest in this competition. He hoped he wouldn't run into Hermione today, or else this girl would definitely demand that he go watch.

During the previous battle between Gryffindor and Hufflepuff, a starting Chaser had desperately blocked a Bludger and was injured, which happened to affect the timing of the opposing side. Otherwise, with a Seeker as excellent as Cedric, it would have been very difficult for Gryffindor to win.

Because of that, Hermione was able to play.

Breeze did not want to get into trouble by refusing Hermione.

Today, all the young wizards were still immersed in speculating about tomorrow's outcome, as were the Hufflepuffs who had just experienced defeat. Perhaps they were disappointed, but they remained kind. Being upright, they never complained about things within the scope of fairness; if they lost, they lost.

"Cedric?"

Cedric was hanging his head, thinking about something, when he heard Breeze's voice.

"What's wrong, Breeze?"

"It should be 'what's wrong with you?' Is it because of Quidditch?" Breeze sat down at the Slytherin table and turned to Cedric. "I don't think you should be like this."

"Oh, sorry. I was just thinking that I had just joined the house team and we lost. I wonder if this will disappoint others, although I understand they wouldn't push the blame onto me."

Of course, the gentle Badgers would only blame themselves rather than complain about their companions.

"I think you are excellent. Just keep working hard. But I didn't come to you to comfort you."

"Professor Sprout has been taking care of plants that can't handle the cold lately. I originally wanted to help, but Professor McGonagall wrote a lot of things in my Transfiguration notes a while ago, so I don't have time for the moment. Perhaps you would be willing to help... and, by the way, ask the professor when she will return my little box to me."

Ever since the professors discovered the turret and Sprout saw so many magical plants from the Forbidden Forest in the garden, she had taken over the garden, saying that some magical plants couldn't be raised that way.

Breeze knew that this was Professor Sprout being angry that he had entered the Forbidden Forest, a punishment for him. But the unicorn buried in the garden was a big problem; it seemed Professor Sprout hadn't discovered it yet.

Thank you all for your collections, recommendation tickets, and monthly tickets. Dahua loves you (holding back).