Giving Gifts

"Ghoul, I keep my word. You'd better pray you don't make a mistake, or you'll discover the 'pleasure' of an itch that reaches your bones when you can't scratch it!"

The Ghoul trembled violently. Luo Bin's words had clearly terrified it.

On the way back to their room, Ron said admiringly, "Luo Bin, you're incredible. If Mum and Dad could bring themselves to deal with the Ghoul like you did, I wouldn't have spent so many nights unable to sleep!"

At Hogwarts, Gryffindor stood for courage, while Slytherin stood for power and cunning. Watching Luo Bin subdue the Ghoul had made Ron realize that being calculating wasn't always a bad thing.

"Mr. Arthur and Mrs. Molly are too kind to hurt a creature, so their children have to put up with it again and again."

Every family had its own way of living. Luo Bin wasn't going to judge Arthur and Molly. He patted Ron on the shoulder and encouraged him to stand up for himself more often.

"Luo Bin, that time... I mean, when we went through the Living Wood, Quirrell suddenly got so itchy that he scratched his skin raw and still couldn't stop. Did you do something?"

Harry had found Luo Bin's description of the poisoned needle's effects familiar. But it wasn't until his foot landed on a creaking, loose floorboard just now that he remembered Quirrell scratching himself.

"Oh, that's right! I think you were so focused on the Philosopher's Stone that you missed it. Both the Dark Lord and I said the Monarch Butterfly I released was what made Quirrell itch!"

"Then why didn't I feel itchy?"

Harry thought back carefully. He seemed to remember hearing the word "butterfly" that night and vaguely seeing one perched on Luo Bin's hand.

"Oh! Remember the sweets I