Time to Take Your Medicine

In the quiet underground office, the faint gasp sounded exceptionally clear.

The black Quill, which had been moving with a scratching sound, suddenly stopped.

Snape looked up, his gloomy eyes passing over the desk and landing directly on the small wooden stool in the corner.

"What's wrong, our renowned Defense Against the Dark Arts teaching assistant? Did the Flobberworm suddenly grow teeth and bite you, or did you find your long-lost brain in that bucket of slime?"

"It's nothing, Professor."

Gavin, without batting an eye, reached into the basin, scooped up the plump Caterpillars again, and slowly began to brush it with a small brush.

My hand slipped.

Snape gave him a cold look, then said no more and lowered his head to pick up his pen again.

Gavin obediently looked down and swiped for half a minute.

Only when the steady rustling of Quill returned to the desk did he discreetly extend his Super-Sensory Charm again.

The deductions on the Parchment clearly did not go smoothly.

Snape wrote down a treatment to prolong the drug's effects, calculated for a moment, and then quickly crossed it out heavily with the tip of his pen.

Gavin watched from the corner, his hands moving slower and slower.

The Flobberworm in my hand had actually been washed clean long ago.

He unconsciously flipped it over and brushed it all over again.

After trying three different plans, all of them failed due to issues with the duration of the drug's effects. Frustrated, Snape put down his pen and drew a question mark under the "permanent Transfiguration" section, clearly putting the idea on hold for the time being.

Gavin was about to withdraw his senses when he saw Snape push the Parchment up and start a new paragraph next to it:

"Biphasic Transformation Potion for Pain Reduction and Sustained Release"

Oh?

Gavin had initially just been watching the spectacle, paused for a moment, then slowly sat up straight, using his Super-Sensory Charm with even greater intensity.

Gavin squinted as he looked at the detailed description of the pain caused by the Biphasic Transformation Potion on the Parchment.

At that moment, only one thought remained in my mind—

He definitely tried!

The Potions Master clearly couldn't bear the excruciating pain of the original recipe, which felt like bones were being torn apart, so he adjusted the ingredients in the original recipe.

The final draft is now almost complete.

In addition, the Parchment also explains many ideas about Potions combinations.

It felt like attending a masterclass.

Gavin became more and more engrossed in reading it.

Reduce the cooking time of the Fluxweed by three seconds, split the original one-time addition of Moonstone Powder into two steps, and postpone the final setting step by half a beat.

The entire reshaping process can be laid flat, which may completely eliminate the excruciating pain during Transfiguration.

On the small wooden stool in the corner, Gavin's movements had become a completely mechanical repetition.

He casually tossed the gleaming Caterpillars he was holding back into the dirty bucket on the left.

He paused for a second, reached into the dirty bucket with his right hand, and scooped out the same Caterpillars again, putting it into a basin of warm water to continue scrubbing.

Just then, Snape stopped writing and turned to look for reference materials on the bookshelf behind him.

Gavin's Super-Sensory Charm instinctively moved over, trying to see more of the Parchment, his brush suddenly stopping in mid-air.

Snape pulled out a thick, Black Book, and as he turned around, he saw Gavin staring blankly at the basin of water, brush in hand.

"Are you planning to grind it until graduation?" Snape asked coldly.

Gavin glanced down, immediately tossed the Caterpillars he was holding, its skin almost completely rubbed off, into the clean wooden bucket on the right, and promptly replaced it with a new one.

"That one's dirtier, Professor."

Snape snorted, picked up his reference book, sat back down at the table, and continued to work out the final step.

Another ten minutes or so passed.

After several rounds of repeated calculations, Snape finally completed the final order of drug preparation and shaping, and drew a heavy horizontal line under the painless improvement plan.

Gavin in the corner had memorized the entire set of improvement steps word for word.

Gavin was genuinely impressed by the textbook-perfect slow-release technique.

He truly lives up to his reputation Half-Blood Prince.

Potions genius!

He nodded twice unconsciously while holding the Caterpillars in his hand.

Just then, Snape put down his Quill, stretched his aching fingers, and looked up to see what was happening.

There was a half-second of silence in the office.

Snape glanced at Gavin at the Caterpillars, then looked down at the Parchment on his own desk.

He didn't say anything, but simply picked up the Quill again with a blank expression.

In Gavin's view, the professor had just solved the problem of painlessness and was clearly preparing to move on to the next step of his research.

Of course, he had to keep watching.

Below the painless improvement record that Snape had just underlined, he casually added a new line of text:

Perhaps I should brew a pot now and try it myself to see the effects?

"Hiss--!"

Gavin couldn't help but gasp.

But the faint gasp sounded particularly jarring in the otherwise silent basement.

Gavin realized something was wrong and abruptly looked up—

It was discovered that Snape didn't continue writing at all.

The Potions Professor, pen in hand, was looking up at him quietly.

Their eyes met.

Snape spoke softly:

Are you looking at my notes?

Gavin felt a chill run down his spine, stopped brushing his brush, and didn't answer.

Snape narrowed his eyes.

"Wandless Super-Sensory Charm?"

"... Um."

Snape's voice remained very soft:

"How long have you been watching?"

Gavin honestly estimated the time:

"Not long, only about an hour."

Snape turned his head and glanced at the wall clock; one hour of solitary confinement had begun.

This kid has been watching from the very beginning.

Then, his gaze shifted to the two barely moving Caterpillars buckets in the corner—

At the bottom of the clean bucket on the right, there lay only a lone caterpillar, its Caterpillars worn white from being brushed.

Snape's lips twitched, veins bulged on his forehead, and he pointed at the door, gritting his teeth as he shouted at Gavin:

Get out of here!

Gavin glanced at the wall clock, a little reluctant to leave. He was at a crucial point in his study and his enthusiasm was high.

"Professor, the detention period isn't over yet—"

"I told you to get lost!"

Gavin had no choice but to walk to the door, grasp the doorknob, think for a moment, then turn back and point to the corner:

"Um, I haven't finished washing the Caterpillars yet. Maybe I should do it tomorrow at seven—"

"Roll!!!"

Bang!

The heavy Oak door finally closed behind them, completely shutting out the thief wearing a Hufflepuff uniform.

The underground office fell silent again.

Snape stood there, his chest heaving violently, barely managing to suppress the anger that surged to his head.

He turned his head and glanced at the two almost untouched wooden buckets in the corner, and the vein on his forehead throbbed again.

For a whole hour, that kid only managed to brush one Caterpillars.

Not only was the work not finished, but his work was also stolen.

No.

We absolutely cannot let that bastard sit here every night anymore.

If Gavin Goo were to stay in this office for another month, he wouldn't even finish his research before he'd be driven to St. Mungo's fit of rage.

We need to think of a way--

Tomorrow, I'll transfer this kid's confinement to Lupin.

Regardless of who drives whom crazy, it's a good thing for them both.

Thinking of this, Snape took a deep breath, calmed himself down, walked back to his desk, sat down, and picked up the black Quill again.

However, the pen tip remained suspended in mid-air, refusing to fall.

In the upper left corner of the Parchment, the three deduction schemes about "extending the drug's effects to permanent Transfiguration" were either marked with question marks or glaring black crosses.

While pain relief was conveniently resolved, it was merely a minor, insignificant detail.

What truly tripped him up was the Transfiguration limit of the Biphasic Transformation Potion.

Even if he forcibly erased the restoration Anchor Point of the Knotgrass with other medicinal materials, this Potions could only temporarily change the external appearance of flesh and blood, and could not change the essence of the wizard at all.

Once the drug's effects wear off, the body will still collapse at its original wizard Anchor Point and spring back to its original state.

He needs a way to change the nature of wizards...

Snape's fingers, which were holding the Quill, suddenly paused.

The essence of wizardry?

Breaking down established boundaries, allowing the body to regenerate and reshape itself.

A thought suddenly entered my mind.

Snape abruptly raised his head, his gaze passing over the desk and landing on the dark storage cabinet behind it, which was protected by multiple layers of Protective Charm.

He put down his Quill, stood up, walked to the locker, and tapped the locker door latch several times with his Wand.

Click.

The cabinet door slid open silently, and Snape reached into the innermost compartment and took out the Crystal Bottle.

Under the dim light of the basement wall lamp, the last half of the pale blue liquid at the bottom of the bottle shimmered with a faint and strange Lumos, illuminating his dark eyes.

Snape stared down at the blue light in his hand, standing in front of the cabinet, lost in thought, muttering to himself:

"... perhaps?"

Tap, tap, tap.

The office door had been closed for less than two minutes when it was suddenly knocked on again.

Snape's thoughts were abruptly interrupted, and his face instantly turned as black as the bottom of a crucible.

Is it that brat?

That brat dares to come back?!

"Roll!"

Snape didn't even look up, but coldly cursed towards the door.

There was a two-second silence outside the door.

Immediately afterwards--

Tap, tap, tap.

The knocking started again; the person wasn't leaving, but rather knocking with unusual persistence.

The veins on the back of Snape's hand bulged completely.

He turned around with a grim expression, first placing the Crystal Bottle containing the pale blue potion back into the innermost compartment of the cabinet, then locking the cabinet door again with his cane.

Then, he strode to the door, yanked open the heavy Oak door, and his suppressed anger burst forth:

"I told you to--"

The second half of the curse got stuck in his throat.

In the dimly lit corridor outside the door—

Draco Malfoy was standing alone in the doorway.

Snape paused, forcibly swallowing the curse that was about to escape his lips. He frowned slightly and patiently asked:

"... Draco? What's wrong?"

The boy outside the door remained silent.

In the flickering torchlight of the corridor, Malfoy's face was clearly even paler than it had been in the Great Hall that morning.

His right hand, hanging by his side, creased his Slytherin Robes deeply, while his left hand stiffly and irritably tugged at the stiff collar of his shirt that was perched on his Adam's apple.

Then, Malfoy looked up and met Snape's scrutinizing gaze.

His lips moved, but he didn't utter a single word in the corridor. Only his bloodshot gray eyes revealed a strange expression.

Snape's gaze lingered on his face for two seconds, his brow furrowing, before he finally stepped back half a step to make way for him.

Malfoy lowered his head and strode quickly across the threshold without saying a word.

Bang.

The heavy Oak door closed behind them again, completely shutting the two figures inside.

At 8:30 PM, on the Seventh Floor, the Room of Requirement.

The crackling Pine in the Fireplace warmed the entire lounge.

On a round table against the wall sat a small copper pot whose fire had just been extinguished, and next to it were several neatly arranged flat, colorless Crystal Bottle that had just been filled.

After being kicked out of the Cellar by Snape, Gavin thought about it more and more and felt that the painless formula he had just gotten for free was a good thing, so he simply took out the leftover herbs from yesterday and brewed another pot while the iron was hot.

The original version used to cause excruciating pain, like bones being torn apart, and was so severe that it could only be used to punish school bullies like Malfoy.

But now that the pain is gone, the nature of this thing has completely changed.

It can absolutely be used as a prop for pure pranks.

Moreover, Snape was so busy punishing him with solitary confinement and obtaining the prescription last night that he hadn't had time to change the school rules to explicitly state that sex-changing potions couldn't be administered to people.

This thing is currently theoretically even--

None of them are considered violations?

As Gavin washed the last trace of Flobberworm slime off his hands with metallic soap in the basin, his mind began to wander uncontrollably as he looked at the small Crystal Bottle with silvery luster on the table.

With these few bottles of medicine as a foundation, we might see quite a few new faces at school soon.

For example, Roanne Weasley, Rowle Scamander, or Sedrica Diggory?

Even--

Albus Dumbledore?

Gavin stroked his chin, finding the idea quite constructive.

If that old man dares to cheat him again, he'll have to add something special to his honey syrup.

Let the entire school witness the elegance of Dumbledore with her waist-length silver hair.

Fred and George would definitely be interested in this groundbreaking, fully compliant prank product.

We can ask them about it tomorrow; maybe it can become the prized possession of the joke shop in the future.

Drying his hands, Gavin pulled himself together before Cordelia arrived, took off his robe, and sat cross-legged on the single soft bed on the right.

There are still more than two months until Christmas.

Before that, his most pressing task was to cultivate his white Magic Gavin a high-density, compressed form like Gavin's.

After all, he had discovered this when he was researching the consumption of the Obscurus.

Pure Magic can also replenish what is consumed, and the performance of Gavin's high-density white vortex when it is activated together with the Obscurus perfectly proves this point.

Once he can refine his own White Vortex to that level of purity, not only will the power of his spells increase several times over, but he can also compile a book to help Cordelia practice and replenish her energy.

However, the problem now is--

Several days passed, and he still had no clue.

"How exactly does Primordial Qi '?"

Inhale.

Exhale.

Gavin closed his eyes, his consciousness quickly sinking into the depths of his mind.

Above the boundless Alaya Consciousness River, two enormous and terrifying Whirlpool are slowly rotating, one to the left and one to the right.

To the left is a five-story-high, bottomless, pitch-black Obscurus, while to the right is a nearly two-story-high, white, Magic Whirlpool of mist spreading and swirling.

For months, the white vortex has been stuck at its maximum volume limit. No matter how much he Meditation or waters it, the boundary has not expanded outwards by even a fraction.

In order to explore the cultivation method and find the feeling that Gavin was talking about, he has been consciously restraining his daily spellcasting these past few days.

The energy depleted by maintaining the Super-Sensory Charm and brewing medicine while in solitary confinement in the Cellar was completely replenished on the way back to the room.

At this moment, the Magic within him was at its fullest.

Now, we need to figure out the next steps.

Gavin didn't rush to activate his Magic; he simply hovered in the Consciousness Space, quietly observing the movements above.

He quickly noticed that something was wrong.

Even though the Magic within her body was completely full, the two Whirlpool suspended above the river were still slowly drawing something from the River of Alaya Consciousness below.

Logically, since the white vortex is still continuously drawing in air, even if its volume stops expanding, the mist inside should be getting denser and denser.

In reality, the white Whirlpool on the right side not only did not receive any replenishment, but wisps of overflowing white mist were constantly dissipating outward from the outermost ring.

The super-limit Magic that had just escaped from the edge of the white vortex didn't even have a second to stay in mid-air before it was pulled to the left by an invisible force Obscurus silently absorbed into the five-story-high, pitch-black mass.

Gavin paused for a moment, then instantly understood something.

So that's how it is.

He had always found it strange that, despite the fact that this Obscurus creature had grown to a staggering five-story-tall size, he never felt any burden when it was stored inside his body.

Only at this moment did he fully understand—

This enormous black Whirlpool isn't static; it's actually constantly in motion, digesting and processing.

However, it will only burn the host's Life Force intensely when actively provoked to fight an enemy.

In its normal standby state, it consumes the Magic that overflows from its own body.

This is Obscurus meant by parasitism.

The method he had previously figured out was to control his Sixth Consciousness, regain dominance in his imagination, and prevent it from absorbing life.

But in reality, this vortex also absorbs dissipated Magic to power itself.

Therefore, this allows the Magic of the White Vortex to compensate when the user previously used Gavin's body and Obscurus operated.

Normally, this is not a problem, but when Magic starts to exceed its limit, the excess Magic will dissipate first.

Obscurus will absorb any excess, dissipated Magic.

Therefore, with such a bottomless pit standing by and intercepting it, the white Whirlpool can only maintain itself at the perfect fullness, unable to accumulate any excess Magic to settle and compress inward.

Gavin frowned slightly and tried to use the sealing spell Newt had taught him.

He separated a Magic and attached it to the outer edge of the black Whirlpool, attempting to lock it down and cut off its standby absorption.

But as soon as the sealing membrane was applied, the five-story-high black vortex, without even changing its rotation speed, completely absorbed the sealing Magic along with the white mist that had escaped from the white vortex, following the same source.

Gavin opened his eyes on the mattress, leaned back against the headboard, and rubbed his temples.

Too.

Whether it was Newt sealing away the girl's Obscurus in Sudan, or him sealing away Cordelia Gavin in a parallel world, the Magic used to cast the Sealing Charm came from another body.

But now he's using the Magic of his own body to seal away the Obscurus he's given birth to.

The Magic, originating from the same source, is sent over and is no different from the nutrients emanating from the white vortex within the black vortex; naturally, it consumes as much as it comes.

"Perhaps we could ask Newt for help?"

Gavin immediately shook his head. Newt knew the Spell, but he didn't know where he was right now.

By the time we find him, who knows when or how long it will be.

Dumbledore?

Dumbledore is certainly an option, but Gavin doesn't want to get involved with him for the time being.

Even if Old Deng doesn't stop him, he'll definitely make additional demands; he doesn't want to be shackled any further.

What should we do?

Should we have Cordelia learn this Spell?

Is it too late?

Gavin stared at the ceiling and couldn't help but sigh inwardly.

The reason Gavin from the parallel world was able to achieve this was ultimately because his method was exactly the same as when he Obscurus: both relied on restraining their spellcasting and allowing their superhuman Magic to collapse within their bodies.

Back in his first year, he deliberately used extreme negative emotions of disgust and hatred towards magic to catalyze the accumulated Magic, which is how he managed to forcefully create this Obscurus.

Looking back now, if he hadn't Hypnosis himself back then, but instead used his willpower to control his Magic like Gavin did, perhaps his white vortex would have eventually evolved into something like Gavin's.

But now, it is precisely this Obscurus he himself created that has blocked his path to continue cultivating the White Vortex.

There is actually another way to rebuild the White Vortex --

The first step is to remove this mass of Obscurus from your body.

But the problem is --

In the parallel world, the Obscurus inside Cordelia's body wasn't very large to begin with. At the time, Gavin's high-density Magic outside helped suppress it, and with him meticulously manipulating things as her second soul, it was able to be moved out smoothly.

But can this enormous mass, five stories high, really be safely removed from my body?

In first grade, a single wisp of light was released, and an Astronomy Tower was lost.

Now move it out again.

If something unexpected happens, will Hogwarts be razed to the ground?

Buzz--Buzz--

Just as Gavin was fretting over the air, the Two-Way Mirror next to his pillow suddenly vibrated slightly, and a layer of clear, watery light appeared on its surface.

Gavin raised an eyebrow and reached for the Two-Way Mirror.

The mirror reflected the dim, flickering torchlight of the Seventh Floor corridor, as well as a corner of the Tapestry Barnabas training the Troll.

Cordelia had finished washing up and changed into a loose, soft, light-colored nightgown, covered by a long black Slytherin cloak.

She stood alone in the empty corridor, clutching a small piece of Parchment covered in writing, staring coldly at him through the mirror:

"Open the door."

Gavin paused for a moment:

"Didn't I write down the password for this room for you this evening?"

The girl in the mirror did not speak.

She simply raised her right hand expressionlessly and held the note covered in tiny writing directly in front of the mirror:

"The room temperature is kept constant at 22.5 degrees Celsius, the relative humidity is 50%, and the crackling sound of the burning Pine in the Fireplace is strictly controlled below 35 decibels."

She paused for half a second, took a deep breath, and stared at the newly added line of text below, reading aloud:

"Equipped with two wide single upholstered beds, spaced precisely 28.5 centimeters apart, with legs firmly fixed to the floor and devoid of any Baroque carvings."

After reading the last word, Cordelia placed the note down, her silver-gray eyes narrowing dangerously.

"Your commands last night were so long, it took me ages to memorize them."

"I went to the door nine times today following that password, but it wouldn't open. When I opened the note, I found that you had slipped two more lines in?"

Gavin Gu.

"Who exactly are you trying to protect yourself from by doing this?"

Gavin coughed lightly.

Have we been discovered?

Therefore, he tried to maintain academic rigor:

"The room we used last night was set up too hastily; the temperature, humidity, and sleep conditions weren't precise enough, making it easy for our space to overlap with other people looking for a place to sleep..."

Cordelia tore the paper to shreds without expression, her right hand wreathed in Black Flame, burning it all away.

Then, she coldly uttered:

"Don't try to fool me. You have three seconds to open the door yourself from the inside."

Gavin had no choice but to put the Two-Way Mirror back on the bedside table, get out of bed, walk to the door, and reach out to pull open the heavy Oak Door.

A cool breeze blew in from the corridor outside the door.

Cordelia put away the Two-Way Mirror, stepped across the threshold, and casually untied her long black cloak, hanging it on the coat rack by the door.

Looking up, she saw the small copper pot that hadn't been put away yet on the round table against the wall, and several flat Crystal Bottle with silvery luster next to it.

"You're brewing medicine in the room?" Cordelia looked over, somewhat surprised.

"Yes, I learned a trick from Professor Snape tonight."

Gavin answered casually, his tone somewhat relaxed:

"Professor Snape modified the formulation of the Biphasic Transformation Potion. He said the current version is completely painless, with no sensation of bone remodeling whatsoever; it's very gentle."

"Oh."

Cordelia glanced at the small Crystal Bottle on the table a couple more times, but didn't investigate further.

Potions were not her focus at the moment.

Her gaze shifted to the side and immediately fell on the two single soft beds in the center of the room, which had been separated strictly according to the "28.5 centimeter spacing".

Then, she turned her head and looked at Gavin with displeasure:

"Weren't we already put them together last night? Why did you set it to two beds in the password again?"

The room was silent for two seconds, broken only by a very soft cracking sound from the Pine in the Fireplace.

"This--"

Gavin stood by the door, looking at the girl who was so close to him.

She had just washed her hair; the silver-gold strands hung loosely over her shoulders, and she carried a clean, cool fragrance.

Gavin's apple bobbed slightly. He turned his head away from the girl's gaze and had no choice but to honestly reply:

I can't sleep while holding you.

Cordelia's fair cheeks instantly flushed a light pink.

But she didn't really understand why; she just instinctively felt a little shy when she heard the words "holding you."

So, she looked at Gavin with some confusion:

"Why can't you sleep? I was very still last night, I didn't even turn over once... Could it be that I've been using my head as a pillow for too long and made your arm go numb?"

It's not about your arm.

Gavin awkwardly looked away, staring at the flickering flames in the Fireplace, and coughed lightly.

"Well... the mattress last night had an unreasonable elasticity, and the air circulation was a bit off..."

Cordelia stared at him silently for two seconds.

I did not accept this answer.

Even the most naive person could tell that this was just a pretext to fool someone.

The girl gave a soft hum and took half a step forward.

Gavin immediately took half a step back.

Upon seeing this, the girl narrowed her eyes and took another half step forward.

Gavin can only offer a refund.

The two continued this back-and-forth until Gavin was cornered with nowhere left to retreat.

A smile finally crept onto the girl's lips.

She tilted her pretty face up, her silver-gray eyes following Gavin's evasive gaze.

"You set the mattress and air quality settings yourself, stop trying to fool me, tell me the truth, why can't I sleep?!"

The girl, so close to me, was breathing lightly, and a faint, cool fragrance wafted from her freshly washed, silver-gold hair.

Under that stubborn gaze, Gavin finally gave in and could only whisper:

"... How could I possibly fall asleep if I were to lie in bed with such a beautiful girl like you all night?"

The air grew quiet.

Cordelia froze on the spot.

The next second, her cheeks, which were originally only light pink, turned bright red, and even her fair and slender neck was tinged with a blush.

After a while, she finally murmured something in a low, hesitant voice:

Am I... that pretty in your eyes?

"Pretty."

Gavin answered honestly, and as if that wasn't enough, he added another sentence.

"It's very beautiful."

Cordelia's face turned even redder.

Hearing that she was so attractive to Gavin, Cordelia blushed so much that her fingers curled up. She felt like she had secretly drunk a sip of warm honey water, and the corners of her lips couldn't help but turn up in a smile.

She tilted her head slightly, raised her hand to tidy a strand of hair behind her ear, and after a long while, muttered something in a voice barely above a whisper:

"... You have good taste."

Seeing that his efforts were effective, Gavin immediately pressed his advantage:

"So, please spare me and let me get a good night's sleep, okay?"

"But..."

Cordelia was still unwilling to give up.

"I just want to sleep with you..."

Cordelia pouted, avoiding Gavin's gaze, and looked around aimlessly while worrying to herself.

She liked the sense of security she felt in Gavin's arms, knowing that he was always there for Gavin.

How can I get him to sleep with me?

Her gaze swept over the crackling Fireplace, past the upholstered armchair, and then down to the wall—

Suddenly, the girl's wandering gaze fixed on a certain spot.

The next second, Cordelia's eyes lit up.

She turned back around, raised her rosy cheeks, and looked at Gavin with exceptionally earnest eyes:

"Since that's the reason... I've thought of a way to make you fall asleep while I can hold you."

Gavin paused slightly in his breathing.

Gavin looked at the warm, dim firelight of the Fireplace, then at his girlfriend in front of him, who was wearing a loose bathrobe, her face Gavin but not moving an inch, and several unhealthy speculations flashed through his mind in just half a second.

He glanced instinctively towards the hallway outside the door, and was about to cough to remind her that the door was still open—

Cordelia had already turned around and reached for a freshly filled flat Crystal Bottle on the round table beside her.

The firelight from the Fireplace shone through the thin Crystal Bottle, illuminating the evenly warm, pearly-grey liquid inside.

With the movement of her wrist, a very thin silver thread flashed across the center of the liquid.

Gavin's expression froze instantly.

The girl spoke softly:

"You just said that this is completely painless, right?"

Cordelia held the Crystal Bottle up in front of her, her eyes sparkling with excitement, as if she had found the perfect answer.

"Then drink this, and you'll fall asleep."

Gavin's idyllic thoughts were instantly shattered, leaving him completely devastated.

"Huh? What kind of logic is that?"

Cordelia blushed, looking completely at ease.

"Didn't you just say that? Because you're a boy, you'll have all sorts of wild thoughts when you're hugging. If you were a girl, and everyone else were a girl, you wouldn't have those wild thoughts."

No.

The pain-free prescription I just got for free from Snape.

The finished product, which I cooked myself in the house and placed on the table.

After all that, was he digging his own grave?

Gavin stared at the flat Crystal Bottle gleaming with silver lines, his pupils shrinking sharply:

"No, I refuse."

He immediately took a step forward, rushed towards the door, and prepared to flee.

He's too embarrassed to knock out the girl who's been staying with him at the hospital for three weeks, so he can only run away.

However, Cordelia was faster than him.

The Slytherin Seeker, honed through years of training, caught Gavin, the little Seagull trying to escape, just like catching the Golden Snitch.

Cordelia popped the cork off the Crystal Bottle with her right thumb, her silver-grey eyes shining brightly in the firelight.

Then, she smiled, raised the medicine bottle, and lunged at Gavin.

"Time for your medicine, Gavin."

"Wait a minute, um--"

The two fell one after the other into the depths of the room. The heavy Oak Door of the Room of Requirement slammed shut behind them and disappeared into the stone walls.

The corridor on the Seventh Floor returned to silence.

At the same time, in a quiet, dark alley in an unnamed city.

The night wind at two in the morning carried a biting chill, dispersing the strong smell of cheap perfume and Alcohol outside the back door.

A man with a dark red burn scar across his left cheek was half-bent over, struggling to support his dead drunk boss as they stumbled toward the alley entrance.

He had just spent all the Galleon he had saved up over two years to prepare for tonight's drinks.

There's nothing we can do, it's just too bizarre.

He had been stuck in northern Norway for two months doing a grueling job, and after finally getting his vacation back to headquarters, he was completely dumbfounded the moment he stepped into the office area this morning.

None of his old acquaintances, who usually fought with him for coffee in the break room and were also stuck at the same pathetic "4-2" level trying to climb the ranks, were there.

The entire two rows of workstations were replaced by unfamiliar faces in their early twenties.

He probed indirectly all day, from logistics to personnel, and everyone's face turned ashen the moment they heard those people's names—as if they'd swallowed a dead fly.

They would either lower their heads and pretend to look through Parchment, or make an excuse to go to the restroom and slip away, not daring to utter a single word.

"Boss, slow down, watch your step."

The scarred man helped the obese supervisor stop by the stone pillar at the alley entrance, expertly pulled out a cigar, stuffed it into the other man's mouth, and rubbed a small flame towards him.

By the flickering firelight, he glanced around to make sure no one was there, and finally couldn't resist, lowering his voice to probe:

"Boss, I have a question for you... Where exactly did Old Krum and his gang go to make their fortune? I walked around the department today and didn't see a single one of them."

The supervisor, his eyes squinting with drunkenness, took a puff of his cigar, exhaled a cloud of smoke, and gave a muffled, snickering laugh.

"Get rich? Ha... You just got back from vacation, haven't heard about it yet?"

The scarred man perked up and quickly moved closer, about half an inch away.

"What did you hear?"

"That guy Dachian... died in Romania, his body was never found, and no one has ever found him."

"Huh? Isn't that it?"

"That's right."

The supervisor leaned against the cold brick wall, his head bobbing up and down, his tongue practically swollen shut.

"A lucrative 5-1 position has become available... The chairman himself has given the order: whoever can bring back Newt Scamander's grandson and get him to talk will be Dachian to 5-1 immediately..."

The scarred man's breathing suddenly became heavy, his bloodshot, triangular eyes fixed on his superior's lips:

"What about old Krum and the others—"

"Them? Hiccup--"

The supervisor let out a long, drunken burp, a strange, gloating expression creeping onto his greasy face.

"Those thirty-seven idiots fought tooth and nail to take this job and go to the United Kingdom... and as soon as they landed, somehow, they all disappeared! A full thirty-seven 4-2s, not a single hair left!"

"Haha, this is truly unbelievable! Everyone seems to have vanished into thin air."

"Some say they were turned into thirty-seven Niffler, saving up Scamander's retirement funds."

"Some say they couldn't stand the loneliness on the road and got into a homosexual relationship, which angered Zeus, who struck them dead with lightning."

"In short, the chairman finally lost his temper and ordered the matter to be classified as top secret, with all files locked away at the lowest level... Now, anyone who dares to mention the name 'Scamander' in the company will be treated as having leaked classified information..."

A cold wind howled through the narrow alley.

The scarred man stood frozen in place, his fingers, which were holding the flame, trembling slightly.

However, at this moment, he didn't even think about how those thirty-seven people died.

To the ruthless Dark Wizard, the sight of thirty-seven people acting in such a large group, like a campfire in the night, meant they had likely been outmaneuvered and surrounded by the Auror force of the British Ministry of Magic.

Only one crazy thought remained in his mind, making his heart pound wildly—

Old Krum and his men were all wiped out.

The thirty-seven competitors he usually had for a spot all disappeared overnight!

And that spot, which could propel someone to instant success and directly secure a 5-1 position, is still vacant!

If thirty-seven people were to enter the country in a grand manner, it would naturally alert Dumbledore and the United Kingdom Auror.

But what if he were alone, quietly sneaking over and tying up a thirteen-year-old kid?

A burning greed surged up to the top of his head in an instant.

The scarred man's Adam's apple bobbed violently, his eyes glazed over, and he muttered to himself unconsciously:

"Scamander's grandson... where is he?"

Before he could finish speaking...

The fat manager, who was leaning against the wall, suddenly felt his legs go weak, and his massive body slid down the brick wall and landed on the muddy ground with a "rip".

The manager, so drunk he could barely open his eyes, let out a deafening burp. Thinking his subordinate was asking him a question, he waved his hand irritably with his eyes still closed.

"Where else could it be... Hogwarts! Everyone knows that old man is afraid of dying; he transferred his grandson from France to Hogwarts at the end of August..."

"Heh heh... So what? You think you can do it? Go and grab him right under Dumbledore's nose..."

"If you catch him, you'll be 5-1... hehe... hiccup..."

As the last word was uttered, a deafening snoring sound echoed directly at the alley entrance.

The fat manager tilted his head to the side and completely passed out drunk in the cold wind.

The narrow alleyway returned to its deathly silence.

The scarred man slowly straightened up.

He ignored his boss, who was lying dead drunk on the ground, and slowly turned his head, his bloodshot, triangular eyes narrowing as he looked up at the dark northwest night sky.

"... Hogwarts?"

The scarred man's lips slowly parted.

"Dumbledore can't be with him every single moment."

A cold wind swept into the narrow alley, leaving only a hoarse whisper:

"Find a time when he's surrounded only by students--"

"Isn't that enough?"