The next afternoon, Baelon went to the greenhouses.
Professor Sprout was squatting on the ground, repotting a Mandrake.
Hearing footsteps, she straightened up, wiped the soil from her hands, and a kind smile appeared on her face.
“Baelon, you’re here!
What plant do you want to learn about today?”
“Professor, I wanted to ask more about self-protection plants near the Forbidden Forest.” Baelon walked over to her, his gaze falling on the various potted plants, his tone carrying a natural earnestness.
“With the school under martial law recently, the more I learn, the more at peace I’ll feel.”
Professor Sprout didn’t suspect a thing.
Smiling, she led him to a row of potted plants and began to explain patiently.
“This is Breath-Hiding Leaf; it can mask your scent and is very practical at the edge of the Forbidden Forest.
These are Quick-Growth Vine seeds; if you encounter danger, scatter them, and they’ll grow instantly to entangle the target, buying you time to escape.” She handed the leaves and seeds to Baelon, repeatedly cautioning him, “The Forbidden Forest is dangerous enough as it is, and now it’s strictly off-limits.
You must not go there out of curiosity.”
“I’ll remember that, Professor.” Baelon carefully put them away, feeling grateful in his heart.
Professor Sprout had no idea that these self-protection plants in his hands were not for himself, but for the life growing larger by the day in his pocket.
What truly forced Baelon to repeatedly brave the journey was Professor Snape’s Potion classroom.
Upper-year Dark Arts counters, neutralizing magical collisions, rapid healing charms, switching spells under suppression…
these practical combat techniques were taught most thoroughly and precisely at Hogwarts only by Snape.
At dusk, Baelon stepped into the cold, damp Dungeon for the third time, clutching his notes.
The heavy, bitter scent of Potions hit him, and the dim firelight cast Snape’s face in a somber, hard light.
He looked up at Baelon, his pitch-black eyes devoid of warmth, his lips curling into a mean, mocking arc.
“Reporting in again, Baelon?” He slowly set down his quill, his tone filled with casual derision.
“Have the Ravenclaw classes failed to satisfy you?
Or are you so idle that you can only come here to disturb me and kill your boring time?”
Baelon was not deterred by his tone; he simply opened his notes calmly.
“Professor, when multi-casting is suppressed by the Dark Arts, how do I cut off the magic power so there’s no backlash?”
Snape rose slowly, his black robes trailing on the floor, his footsteps sounding exceptionally heavy in the silent classroom.
He walked up to Baelon and leaned in slightly, his voice low and cold, like a needle dipped in poison.
“Backlash?” He sneered, his sharp gaze piercing.
“I thought a little Wizard as eager for success as you would have long since forgotten the word ‘backlash’.”
He snatched Baelon’s notes away, his fingertip poking heavily at the page, with enough force to nearly tear the parchment.
“Idiot.” Snape enunciated every word, his sharp tongue showing no mercy.
“Panicking when suppressed, falling into chaos when panicking, and then having your magic run wild when in chaos—I’m talking about people like you.”
Cut off the weak spell, concentrate all your magic for a counterattack.
If your timing is off by a second, expect your arm to go numb until it loses all sensation.”
He raised his hand to demonstrate, his wand movements so fast they were mere afterimages, his tone remaining sharp and grating.
“Look closely.
It’s not about waving it randomly based on feeling; it’s about timing it to the exact moment before the opponent’s spell touches your magic.
Too early, and magic leaks; too late, and you can just lie on the ground and regret it.”
Baelon immediately followed the practice, but the more anxious he became, the more chaotic his rhythm grew.
“Your wrist is crooked like that; are you waving a wand or swiping at flies?”
“The rhythm is wrong!
Did what I just say go in one ear and out the other?”
“A top student of Ravenclaw has only this much composure?
Truly ‘impressive’.”
His rebukes grew sharper with every sentence, each word stinging, yet he never left Baelon’s side.
His eyes were locked onto Baelon’s movements, every mistake precisely called out, and he would even reach out to forcibly correct the posture of his wrist.
Meanness aside, his guidance was terrifyingly precise.
Only when Baelon finally completed the entire switching sequence fluently did Snape withdraw his wand, straighten up, and give him a cold glance.
“Barely passable.” His tone remained disdainful, as if speaking of something trivial.
“Stop wasting my time—I have no interest in teaching basic common sense to a reckless little Wizard every day.”
Baelon bowed in thanks.
“Thank you, Professor Snape.”
Only after the door clicked shut did Snape slowly sit back in his chair, his fingers unconsciously tapping the desk.
He looked at the closed door; beneath that layer of icy meanness in the depths of his dark eyes, a faint trace of approval flickered.
He scolded the harshest with his mouth, but in his heart, he knew best: this student was truly working himself to the bone.
Baelon returned to the corridor.
As the sky darkened, the torches lit up automatically.
He lightly pressed the outside of his pocket; a muffled thumping sensation came from the Undetectable Extension Bag—Yangyan had grown nearly larger than a horse, and the cramped space made it incredibly frustrated.
Dragons were born for the sky, for the wind and the open fields; they should never be imprisoned in darkness.
He had to get stronger, faster.
Turning a corner in the corridor, Baelon came face-to-face with Harry, Ron, and Hermione.
Except for Hermione, Harry and Ron were only acquaintances from the same year, and they weren’t close.
The atmosphere was momentarily awkward.
Harry was clutching his Nimbus 2000 tightly.
The broom was vibrating violently, almost out of control.
He looked panicked and spoke with embarrassment.
“Sorry…
we didn’t mean to bump into you.
The broom suddenly had a problem; it won’t stop shaking.”
Baelon’s gaze fell on the broom, and he spoke calmly, “I can take a look.”
He lightly rested his fingertip on the broom handle and raised his wand slightly.
“Specialis Revelio.”
A pale blue glow spread across it, and a faint trace of dark energy appeared at the tail of the broom.
“Someone tampered with the Hovering Charm; it will go completely out of control if it flies too high.” Baelon flicked his wand, and a Purification Charm instantly broke the curse.
“There, it’s fixed.”
Harry tried shaking the broom; it was as steady as ever.
He breathed a sigh of relief and thanked him repeatedly, “Thank you so much, Baelon.
The Quidditch match is tomorrow; if it weren’t for you, I really wouldn’t know what to do.”
Baelon nodded slightly, preparing to turn and leave.
Ron felt excited and curious, but since they weren’t familiar, his tone carried a bit of hesitation and nervousness.
He couldn’t help but lower his voice and speak, “Um…
I heard from Fred and George that you’re looking after a dragon near the Forbidden Forest?”
Hermione immediately gave Ron a light tug, her eyes signaling him sternly to shut up.
She had kept the secret faithfully from beginning to end, never breathing a word to anyone.
Harry also quickly added, his expression sincere, “We won’t tell anyone, really.”
Baelon was silent for a moment, then his voice was light, “It’s already quite big.”
With that, he turned and left without another word.
Ron watched his retreating back, regretting his slip of the tongue, yet he still couldn’t help himself.
In truth, the Weasley twins had been unable to keep the secret in a moment of excitement and had quietly revealed to Ron and Harry that Baelon was raising a dragon near the Forbidden Forest.
They had thought Ron would be as tight-lipped as they were, but Ron simply couldn’t keep things to himself.
Looking at Baelon’s retreating back, he felt both guilty and uneasy, but as soon as he turned around, he still failed to control his mouth.
In just one night, the news that “Baelon of Ravenclaw is raising a dragon larger than a pony in the Forbidden Forest” spread from his mouth and soon became known to everyone in Hogwarts.
In the corridors, in the classrooms, and in the Great Hall, discussions rose and fell.
Students couldn’t contain their curiosity and flocked to the edge of the Forbidden Forest, trying to catch a glimpse.
The ban, which had originally just been a reminder, now faced an unprecedented challenge.
Dumbledore had to strengthen the guard again, with Professors taking turns on watch, and the entire Castle was shrouded in a tense and restless atmosphere.
When Baelon walked into the Great Hall, he could clearly feel countless gazes falling on him—curiosity, surprise, discussion, and scrutiny were everywhere.
Harry, Ron, and Hermione looked at him with faces full of guilt.
Hermione was especially self-reproachful but helpless—once the secret had left Ron’s mouth, it could never be taken back.
Baelon’s expression was calm, without a hint of panic.
He lightly touched his pocket, feeling Yangyan’s slight movements.
The secret was out, and a crisis was approaching, but he had long since prepared himself to face everything.
He gripped his wand tightly, with only one thought in his mind: no matter what happened next, he would protect Yangyan!