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[HP] Chapter 128-130
🕑 Added 2025-08-24 15:30:03 +0000 UTC### [HP] 128: Now That’s Really Giving Voldemort No Face
“Hermione, is this the snowman you girls made?” Louis walked over, chuckling as he looked at the lopsided pile of snow.
It didn’t even resemble a snowman—more like a crude cone shoved into the ground.
Calling it a “snowman” was already being generous. Clearly, they just didn’t know how.
Louis glanced at Hermione’s companions. One was Padma—nothing unusual there. The other was an Asian-looking girl he hadn’t seen before. That must be Cho Chang.
She was a second-year, so Louis had no idea how she ended up hanging around with Hermione and Padma.
“Well, we’re not exactly good at making snowmen,” Hermione admitted with a troubled look. “Let me introduce you—this is my new friend, Cho Chang.”
Hermione pointed toward the girl with obvious Eastern features.
Cho gave Louis a shy smile.
“Nice to meet you, Cho Chang… I’m Louis.”
He almost wanted to call her Zhang Qiu by her Chinese order, but figured that having grown up in Britain, she likely wasn’t used to it herself.
Cho was a half-blood. Her father was Chinese, but while her appearance leaned distinctly Eastern, certain details—her complexion, her build, her expression—showed Western traits.
It made Louis feel oddly conflicted just looking at her.
“Need a hand?” Louis asked, gesturing toward the sad excuse for a snowman.
“Of course! Please, make us a proper one,” Hermione said happily.
Louis, keeping up appearances, pulled out his hollow replica wand and tapped the snow.
The power of the Rooster Talisman flowed out, wrapping around the snow and reshaping it exactly the way he wanted.
In no time at all, a snow-sculpted Hermione stood before them.
Because of the loose snow, the figure was a bit rough around the edges, its expression lacking fine detail. But as a snowman, it was undeniably impressive.
“That’s amazing!” Cho and Padma exclaimed, admiration—and maybe a hint of envy—shining in their eyes.
Hermione, however, didn’t blush or grow flustered. Instead, she was practically bouncing with curiosity.
“How did you do that?” she asked eagerly. “What spell was it?”
Of course. Her thirst for learning overrode everything else.
Padma and Cho exchanged amused looks, watching Hermione badger Louis for his secret.
Louis obviously couldn’t teach her the use of the Rooster Talisman—but bluffing was easy. Wizarding magic didn’t have rigid systems anyway. If someone claimed to use an unusual method, others usually chalked it up to talent rather than suspecting some foreign power.
That was the nature of magic in Harry Potter’s world—it leaned on instinct and self-belief more than formulas. Confidence in “I can do this” was half the battle.
“It’s the Levitation Charm,” Louis said with utmost seriousness. “I just applied it more flexibly—treating the snow as both a whole and as separate parts…”
His straight-faced nonsense was so convincing that the three girls leaned in, listening intently to every word.
Louis rambled on until his mouth was dry, and when he felt he had spun enough, he concluded, “That’s about my take on it. You can give it a try yourselves.”
And try they did.
Hermione, Padma, and Cho all whipped out their wands and cast Wingardium Leviosa at the snow piled on the ground.
But the very first step proved difficult. Theory might have been sound, but reality was far less forgiving.
Loose snow wasn’t the same as compacted snowballs. Their spells did affect the snow—but only managed to blast up little explosions of powdery white mist from the ground.
After Louis finished bluffing, he simply stood to the side, watching the girls experiment, expressionless as he waited for the system’s notification.
But nothing came. The system didn’t judge his words as deceit…
“Huh… don’t tell me what I just said was actually true?” Louis tapped his forehead blankly.
So the system had this kind of function too? Didn’t that mean he could march up to a researcher, toss out some scientific hypothesis, and immediately know from the system’s response whether it was correct?
Good lord—at that rate, humanity would be fast-tracked into a great leap forward, colonizing the solar system in no time.
Still, that was just a passing thought. The important part was that Louis’ words had to convince his audience.
In magic, there was no need for proof—belief itself was proof. Convincing a few trusting girls with his “theory” was child’s play.
But trying to use a half-baked guess to convince an actual scientist? Even with illusions, Louis wasn’t sure how he’d pull that off.
Too much trouble. Pass.
“Wow! Look, Hermione—she did it!”
Padma’s startled exclamation snapped Louis out of his musings.
Sure enough, Hermione had her wand pointed at a clump of snow, which was slowly floating upward. The snow trembled slightly, but didn’t scatter—it was as if a pair of invisible hands were holding it up.
She had actually succeeded.
Louis chuckled softly. See? That’s magic. So simple.
As long as you dared to imagine, you could make it happen—that was the essence of magic.
But this was just the beginning. Hermione had only managed to treat a bundle of snow as a single whole. She still didn’t know how to shape it, so her eyes inevitably turned to Louis for help.
And what could he do? The “lesson” he had given was pure nonsense. Convincing nonsense, yes, but he had no real method to teach. All he could do was spread his hands and give Hermione an encouraging look.
Hermione lost focus for just a second, and the snow in her grasp suddenly split apart, exploding in midair. Clearly, her perception of the “whole” had slipped.
Snow showered down, covering the three girls from head to toe. Padma and Cho froze for a moment, then burst into shrieking laughter before scooping up snow to retaliate against Hermione.
Louis stood by grinning, watching them play—until, inevitably, they turned on him too. A volley of snowballs came flying his way.
Laughter and joy filled the courtyard, the air thick with playful energy.
And then, striding past in the corridor alongside the courtyard, came Quirrell—an aura utterly at odds with the lively scene.
The moment the twins spotted him, their eyes lit up.
Quirrell, this year’s Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, had long since disgusted them to no end.
Hogwarts had never offered alchemy classes—there just weren’t enough qualified applicants. Which made Defense Against the Dark Arts all the more important.
In past years, the professors might not have lasted the whole school term, but their teaching was at least competent, inspiring, and full of intriguing ideas.
Quirrell, however, was completely useless. His “lessons” were nothing but reading from the textbook, and whenever the twins asked a real question, he always had no idea.
It sickened them. So seeing him now, they exchanged a glance, grinned, and packed a pair of snowballs.
Their enchanted missiles twisted elegantly through the air in an S-curve, aiming straight for the back of Quirrell’s head.
He spotted the threatening snowballs at once and panicked, clutching his head as he tried to run. But he wasn’t fast enough—they smacked him on the back of the skull.
The damage was nothing… but the humiliation was immense.
That was Voldemort’s face that just got hit.
Louis, dodging snowballs in the courtyard, couldn’t help laughing as he watched the spectacle.
After all, Voldemort didn’t dare lash out right now. So why not enjoy the show?
---
### [HP] 129: The Baby Dragon
After bidding farewell to the three Ravenclaw girls still bent on experimenting with the Levitation Charm, Louis trudged through the snow toward Hagrid’s hut.
The black waters of the lake and the white blanket of the Forbidden Forest created a striking contrast. Louis paused for a while to take it in, only moving again when the snowfall grew heavier.
As he drew close to Hagrid’s cabin, he immediately felt waves of heat rolling out from within. Snow was melting quickly off the roof, and the ground around the hut was already bare stone and dirt.
That was unusual. Hagrid, being a half-giant, never feared the cold. He had no reason to keep his home that hot.
Louis could already guess the real reason. There was only one explanation: dragon hatching.
Curious, he had deliberately come to pay Hagrid a visit, hoping to get a close look.
The door opened quickly. When Hagrid saw Louis standing there, he leaned out, peered left and right to check that no one else was around, and only then allowed him in.
“Louis—what are yeh doin’ here?” Hagrid asked. He wore a blackened apron that wasn’t small by normal standards, but looked comically undersized against his massive frame.
He seemed nervous, his eyes darting constantly to check behind him.
“Just came to see you, Hagrid.” Louis took off his hat and his green Slytherin scarf. “It’s awfully hot in here.”
“Er—aye, well… I don’t like the cold much,” Hagrid said seriously.
“Hagrid, lying doesn’t suit you.” Louis shrugged. “Fine, I’ll be direct—I’m here to see the dragon.”
“D-dr-dragon? What dragon?” Hagrid stammered, panicked.
“The dragon you’re raising. I saw it with these eyes of mine. I saw it break out of its shell.” Louis tapped his temple.
“Yeh… yeh saw it? Impossible! It hasn’t hatched yet.” Hagrid denied at once.
“That’s because what I saw was the future. You know I have the gift of prophecy,” Louis said gravely, dabbing imaginary sweat from his brow. “Now, quick—let me see it.”
“Alright, alright. But mind, it can’t be taken from the heat yet,” Hagrid muttered helplessly.
He led Louis to the fireplace and pointed to a blackened cauldron hanging over the flames. “There. In there.”
Inside the cauldron, a pitch-black egg rolled and bobbed in the boiling water like some massive, oversized poached egg.
Honestly, Louis’ first thought on seeing it was: Is that thing cooked yet?
So dragon eggs were hatched this violently?
On second thought, though, it probably made sense. With water, at least the temperature wouldn’t climb too high.
“How long until it hatches?” Louis asked eagerly, already imagining claiming the dragon for himself.
What? The dragon was Hagrid’s?
Didn’t matter. It wouldn’t stay with Hagrid for long. Sooner or later, it would have to be sent away. And when that happened, it would be Louis’ turn.
“Couple o’ months yet,” Hagrid said, rubbing his hands together with excitement. “Then I’ll have a dragon.”
“Then you’d better prepare yourself. You won’t be able to keep it for long,” Louis warned.
“Wh-why not? I can feed it, raise it meself! I can’t part with it!” Hagrid looked as dejected as a child—albeit a one-ton child.
“Because it’ll grow,” Louis said flatly. He glanced around the hut. “At best, you’ll manage two or three months. After that, it won’t fit in here. You’ll be forced to find somewhere else for it.”
Hagrid shook his head stubbornly. “No! If it don’t fit in here, I’ll—”
“Raise it in the Forbidden Forest? Forget it. Dragons fly, and they’re fiercely territorial. It’d probably wipe out the entire colony of Acromantulas in there.”
Louis shook his head. “Be careful, Hagrid. My owl already dragged an Acromantula out of the forest. The professors might decide to take action over the summer.”
At the mention of Acromantulas, Hagrid faltered, his eyes darting uneasily.
Louis was just giving him a little warning—so that when the dragon was eventually taken away, it wouldn’t break him too badly.
Raising a dragon was fine in theory. But the real questions were: how, and where?
Inside the cramped little hut, the two of them fell into heavy, troubled silence.
...
By evening, the infirmary was unusually lively.
When young wizards played, they tended to forget all limits. Heated from running around, they tossed aside their scarves and hats, thinking themselves invincible. But once the fun wore off—reality struck.
They had all caught colds.
Runny noses, fevers, sneezing—the full set of symptoms, making it look almost like a flu outbreak.
So, under the professors’ orders, students lined up at the infirmary to receive special potions.
Unlike Muggle medicine, which only suppressed symptoms, wizarding potions not only soothed but cured the illness outright.
Though… the side effects were hard to ignore.
“Whooo—”
A student who had just swallowed his potion passed by Louis and Hermione, letting out a sound like a train whistle. Two streams of steam spurted from his ears.
He looked for all the world like a little locomotive that had come to life.
Hermione stared wide-eyed at the boy, a puff of steam cloud floating above his head, then turned to Louis.
“Do we really have to drink it?” she asked hesitantly. Steam coming out of her ears sounded far too humiliating.
But before she could protest further, she sneezed.
“When you’re sick, you take medicine. No excuses,” Louis said with a smirk.
This potion was fascinating—strange side effects and all.
“T-then you should go back first. You don’t need any,” Hermione stammered. To preserve her dignity, the fewer witnesses the better. And Louis, of all people, absolutely could not see her like that!
“I’m here to keep you company,” Louis replied, face sobering. “Don’t worry, I won’t laugh at you.”
“No way!” Hermione flailed her arms, trying to shove him off. But with her small frame, it was a hopeless effort.
Their playful scuffle ended when it was finally Hermione’s turn.
Madam Pomfrey handed her a vial filled with potion and said kindly, “Drink, dear. You’ll feel better right after.”
“C-could I take it back with me instead?” Hermione asked with a grimace.
“Absolutely not. I must see you drink it. Don’t worry, it isn’t bitter.” Madam Pomfrey’s tone brooked no argument.
Hermione turned her head, glaring at Louis snickering behind her. Steeling herself, she gulped down the potion.
It wasn’t bitter—but it was fiery hot!
“Give him one too!” Hermione’s flushed face burned redder under the heat of the brew. Feeling it take effect inside her, she jabbed a finger at Louis, determined to drag him down with her.
Louis blinked, then pointed at himself with a laugh. “I’m not sick.”
“Medicine treats the ill, but it also prevents illness,” Madam Pomfrey declared firmly. Without hesitation, she shoved a vial into his hands. “Drink up!”
Seeing Hermione’s red cheeks and ears already threatening to steam, Louis sighed helplessly, then raised the potion and downed it.
The spicy liquid burned down his throat, shooting up through his nasal cavity and into his head. Even though he wasn’t sick, he felt his mind snap awake, refreshed in an instant.
Potent stuff. Strong enough to make him dizzy.
---
### [HP] 130: Two Philosopher’s Stones
Once Louis had swallowed his potion, Hermione finally relaxed. She stopped holding back, and two jets of white steam hissed out from her ears like a train blowing its whistle.
It really was amusing.
Louis poked her ear and burst out laughing.
Hermione, staring at him in disbelief, realized he showed none of the same symptoms.
“Why… why aren’t you reacting?” she demanded indignantly.
“Because he isn’t sick. Now move along, others are waiting,” Madam Pomfrey said, shooing both of them with a pat. “Next!”
“Haha, looks like you miscalculated,” Louis teased, looping Hermione’s scarf snugly back around her neck. “Medicine or not, don’t catch cold again tonight.”
“I… I know.”
That small, tender gesture made Hermione’s cheeks flush bright red—but the plumes of steam still hissing from her ears rather ruined the mood.
What should have been a sweet little moment instead looked like a gag comedy sketch with over-the-top special effects.
---
That night, after curfew.
Hogwarts was unusually lively.
On his way to the Room of Requirement, Louis opened the Marauder’s Map and glanced over the names drifting across it.
First, George and Fred—he had no idea what they were up to, sneaking into the library at this hour.
Apart from them, the usual night wanderers were about. Some were out for secret trysts, others just roaming around for fun. Every time Louis checked the map at night, he found those familiar names drifting about.
But tonight was different. Harry, Ron, and Neville’s names were also running across the map.
Harry Potter. Ron Weasley. Neville Longbottom. The three of them were sprinting through the corridors, heading straight for the room that held the Mirror of Erised.
They must have found it—each one desperate to glimpse their deepest desire.
At this point, the Mirror of Erised hadn’t yet been moved into the final chamber. That was why Chuan could so easily retrieve the Philosopher’s Stone earlier. Afterward, once it was sealed within the enchantments, getting to it would be far more difficult.
And the key problem—Dumbledore himself would eventually go to the chamber and set the mirror in place. Louis couldn’t risk him discovering anything unusual. Which meant…
He thought for a moment, then opened a door straight into the Room of Requirement.
Time was short. His chance to study the Philosopher’s Stone wouldn’t last long.
“Master.”
Streams of water gathered before him, forming into the alluring figure of Chuan.
“I’ve brought the Philosopher’s Stone.”
She opened her hand, and a vivid crimson gem glowed under the candlelight.
It was an irregular, many-faced crystal, uncut yet gleaming with a brilliance that could mesmerize.
But the Stone was far too precious. No one dared take a blade to it.
Louis accepted the Stone with a faint smile.
So this was the object Voldemort longed for above all else.
And in the end, just to keep it from falling into his hands, Nicolas Flamel himself had chosen to destroy it—sacrificing immortality.
Louis genuinely respected that. If it had been him… he wasn’t sure he could make such a choice.
Still, what a waste. One Voldemort, and humanity lost a living fossil.
“The Philosopher’s Stone… a miracle that brews the Elixir of Life, and turns mercury into gold.”
Louis weighed the Stone in his hand, and suddenly, it didn’t feel so impressive after all.
It didn’t really have the miraculous “touch gold and it turns to gold” ability. In alchemy, only mercury could be transformed into gold—the Philosopher’s Stone simply acted as the catalyst.
Whether for the Elixir of Life or for creating gold, raw materials were always required. The Stone was merely the indispensable medium that allowed such miracles to happen.
“And yet, it’s precisely this Stone that’s so irresistible…”
Louis muttered as he leaned in, studying it closely. Suddenly, he felt his heartbeat quicken.
Inside his body, the chains that bound the power of the Twelve Talismans seemed to stir. They trembled faintly in reaction to the Stone’s presence.
“The Philosopher’s Stone… it can affect the Talismans? Of course—this is the most orthodox product of alchemy, a force that catalyzes the balance of yin and yang. And within me… yin and yang are already entangled.”
Holding the Stone, Louis’ expression shifted slightly.
So it did have value after all. But he couldn’t use it directly—not yet. Within him, the yin and yang were locked in a clash between the righteous energy sealing the Talismans and the dark energy trying to break free.
He had spent half a year grinding away, deliberately strengthening the dark qi to overwhelm and suppress the righteous qi. If the Stone simply balanced yin and yang, then all that work would be undone in an instant.
“I can’t use it as is… but—what if I do this?” Louis’ eyes lit up.
He placed the Philosopher’s Stone on the desk before him, staring at it intently. Suddenly, the phantom of the Tiger Talisman flickered in his eyes.
A tiny glow of intertwining yin and yang appeared at his fingertip. He pressed it lightly onto the Stone.
The intertwined light split apart—at that instant, the Philosopher’s Stone shuddered, and to Louis’ astonishment, it split as well.
Now, in front of him lay two Stones, each identical to the original. Even their owner, Nicolas Flamel himself, would not be able to tell them apart.
But were these still true Philosopher’s Stones? Yes. And they were still usable. Only now, their effects had become… peculiar.
Louis picked up the one marked as yin, holding it in his palm. He could feel the resonance of its power with the dark energy inside his own body.
“Interesting…”
The Philosopher’s Stone represented the pinnacle of alchemy—its very core principle, the balance of yin and yang.
But when the Stone itself was split into yin and yang by the Tiger Talisman, its once-stable nature grew volatile, restless. Even holding it, Louis could feel the turbulent power churning within.
Yet its function hadn’t changed—it was still only a catalyst.
“A catalyst…”
Louis raised the yin-aspected Stone toward himself. “If I use this yin Stone to catalyze my own power… will it hasten the destruction of the seal on the Talismans?”
The thought sent a thrill through him. He immediately activated the yin Stone.
A surge of icy cold flooded into his body. The first to respond was his dark qi.
Under the influence of this chilling breath, the black energy swelled rapidly, spreading until it filled his whole body.
Then the Twelve Talismans, shackled by the chains of righteous energy, stirred as well. They shifted from stable silence to violent agitation, like a volcano about to erupt, like a storm crashing against the chains anchored by the Tiger Talisman.
It worked!
Louis’ eyes shone. He immediately reached out to the Talismans’ power, trying to drive it to strike at the Tiger Talisman’s chain—the last one still whole.
But he hadn’t expected it—their frenzied power slipped free of his control in an instant, rampaging through his body like a runaway train.
And with it, a tide of furious emotion awoke inside him.
---
