A Small Token of My Affection

Tom had no time to pay attention to the system notifications; his attention was completely drawn to the cloth bag on the ground.

Upon opening the bag, one finds twelve adult Runespoor coiled inside, all in excellent condition and of superb quality.

Seven female snakes and five male snakes—the ratio wasn't perfect, but it far exceeded his expectations.

Tom's eyes flashed with surprise; he was amazed by Aberforth's abilities.

His original bottom line was very low; he would be content with getting a few baby snakes, and at worst, he could rely on the secret recipe taught by Newt Scamander to slowly cultivate and mature them.

To everyone's surprise, Aberforth went straight to the point and provided him with a set of adult-sized products.

Tom didn't care at all about such a minor issue as the mismatch between the number of males and females. It was just a matter of reasonable resource allocation; a little competition was normal.

"This batch of goods is of such good quality, it must have taken you a lot of effort. I'll make up for the cost difference," Tom said generously.

"Just add another two thousand Galleon," Aberforth without any further formalities.

He used many of his long-standing connections to acquire these rare Runespoor, and he wanted to earn more for his hard work.

Tom's previous deposit had already covered the costs, so the two thousand Galleon were purely his own hard-earned profit.

Tom didn't mind at all.

Taking down a group of Runespoor is nothing compared to this small price to pay, and being slightly tricked is no big deal.

He casually pulled out two bags of pre-counted Galleon and complained helplessly.

"That's the most troublesome thing about the wizarding world; large transactions all rely on counting gold coins, which is exhausting."

Aberforth, pleased with his reward, watched as Tom carefully stored the snakes in his business card holder.

He jokingly asked, "If Newt Scamander knew about this, do you think he'd force you to release all these snakes back into the wild?"

"Uncle Newt Scamander isn't that rigid," Tom stood up and waved his hand, looking calm. "Besides, I'm not a poacher."

Aberforth sneered, "Is your operation any different from that of a poacher?"

"The difference is huge." Tom gave him a look that seemed to pity someone with intellectual disabilities, and launched into his classic sophistry mode.

"First, you were the one who carried out the entire arrest operation; I was just an innocent paying buyer, and my main goal was to act legally and compliantly."

"Secondly, it was fate that this Runespoor ended up in my hands."

"They are actively seeking freedom and new life; how can that be called poaching? It's a two-way journey."

After hearing this string of fallacies, Aberforth fell silent.

So all the good things are yours, and I'm the one taking the blame? Turns out, I'm the one who's been working hard as a poacher?

He laughed in exasperation, pointing at Tom and nodding repeatedly. "Fine, no wonder you're Slytherin, you're more cunning than any of the little snakeheads I've ever met."

"You flatter me, it's just standard procedure." Tom shamelessly accepted the compliment.

Tom, having resolved a major concern, felt completely relieved and sat down at the wooden table.

"Is this the cod offal soup that Newt Scamander keeps talking about?"

"Hmph." Aberforth sneered, "I only bothered to make one today because it's Halloween. You should be secretly happy. I guarantee it'll be so delicious you'll shut up and crave it forever."

Tom smiled and took out a clean spoon to scoop up a spoonful of fish with sauce, discreetly avoiding using the old cutlery in the room.

Who knows how many years it's been sitting there? It's hardly clean.

"By the way, IChat about your sister," Tom initiated the conversation. "The headmaster has never mentioned anything about his family to us."

Compared to the scheming and calculating Dumbledore constantly talked about "For the Greater Good," Tom actually preferred the frank, protective, and soft-hearted Aberforth.

No matter how good Dumbledore was, he would sacrifice others for the greater good in critical moments, and even his own life was willing to be given up at will.

But Aberforth is different. He may have a bad temper and a sharp tongue, but he is genuinely kind to people.

Like today, even though it was Halloween Feast day, he most likely didn't have time to eat and even prepared hot food for himself.

Being with this kind of person is easy and comfortable; there's no need for scheming or plotting.

Aberforth stared blankly at the portrait, now covered with a new velvet cloth, for a moment, then took out a bottle of wine and slowly began to speak while eating.

He didn't mention a word about the hidden, forbidden past, but instead recounted some of Ariana's cute and funny childhood stories.

Tom listened with great interest, uncovering a bunch of Ariana's dark past that she had never mentioned to anyone before.

Pick any one of these items and it's enough to make the girl instantly furious and enraged, unleashing Obscurus, earth-shattering power.

After a hearty meal and plenty of gossip, it was time for Tom to head back to Hogwarts.

Before leaving, he placed a bracelet engraved with Iron Armor Charm runes on the table.

"What is this?" Aberforth raised an eyebrow in confusion.

"A small gift, and you can get the hang of it after a couple of quick fiddles."

Tom didn't explain much; this was a protective bracelet he had personally crafted to prevent slipping off the wrist, offering high-level protection.

It might not be a top-tier artifact for a powerful figure like Aberforth, but it was still a genuine token of his appreciation.

Before the other party could ask any further questions, Tom pulled up his hood, pushed open the door, and quickly left.

Aberforth stared at the bracelet on the table for a long time, then suddenly chuckled helplessly and shook his head gently.

"Besides Albus, there's actually someone else who remembers to send me gifts. It's been so many years..."

Meanwhile, inside Hogwarts Castle.

As the Halloween Feast drew to a close, the atmosphere was lively and bustling, but no one expected that a sudden disturbance was brewing.

A piercing scream suddenly rang out from the castle corridor, instantly shattering the noise of the banquet and startling all the teachers and students.

In the flickering lights of the long corridor, Filch held tightly to Mrs. Norris body was stiff and lifeless.

His eyes were bloodshot and ferocious, fixed on Harry not far away, his voice hoarse and crazed.

"It was you! You're the one who killed my cat! And that student next to you, you're both involved!"

Harry's face turned deathly pale. He stumbled backward, flustered, and cried out, "It wasn't me! I really didn't do it!"

The students watching turned their heads at the sound, their eyes landing on the wall next to the brazier.

A line of glaring, blood-red characters was boldly imprinted on the stone wall.

"Beware of those who oppose the heir!"

Malfoy finished reading aloud, and was about to blurt out his signature derogatory term when he abruptly stopped himself from speaking.

Cold sweat instantly soaked his back. He quickly scanned the entire room, and only after not seeing Tom did he secretly breathe a sigh of relief.

The surrounding Slytherin students were completely dumbfounded, internally screaming with disbelief.

What's going on? When did the term "Mudblood" become a taboo subject in Slytherin?

The atmosphere was tense, and it was supposed to be a somber scene, but Albus Dumbledore almost couldn't help but smile.

The change in the academic atmosphere in recent years has been quite dramatic.

"Never make assumptions or wrongly accuse a student without solid evidence, Argus," Albus Dumbledore warned Filch, his tone becoming more serious.