“Harry?
I was just looking for you!”
*Good lord, those short legs of yours sure can cover ground.*
Mason was a bit taller than Harry.
He walked over, threw his right arm around Harry’s shoulders, and whispered into his ear, “I heard you’re pretty close with the keeper of keys?”
“What???” Harry looked completely bewildered.
Then he saw Mason let go and stand opposite him, gesturing a massive human frame with his hands, before realizing who Mason meant.
“You mean Hagrid?”
“Exactly!
I wanted to ask him a few things.”
Harry didn’t think much of it.
Just yesterday, he had felt sorry he hadn’t brought all his friends along to meet Hagrid, as the gentle giant seemed rather lonely.
“What about me?” Ron pointed at his own mouth.
He had visited Hagrid’s hut with Harry yesterday, and his set of teeth had nearly shattered on Hagrid’s rock-hard rock cakes.
“Don’t you have to go to the Wizard’s Chess Club?”
“Oh right.
But are you sure you don’t want to come play chess with me?”
Hearing this made Harry walk even faster.
Playing chess with Ron was like a terrible novice facing a grandmaster—he might as well surrender after three moves.
Going to the Wizard’s Chess Club with Ron was just asking for misery.
Ever since Ron had taken on the commission and cleared the club’s endgame challenge, he had become the reigning champion.
A constant stream of challengers kept coming, and privately, the club president had even asked him to throw a few matches—offering a Silver Sickle for every fake loss.
George and Fred had been amazed recently by how generous their younger brother had suddenly become with his money.
At the edge of the Forbidden Forest, Harry and Mason knocked on the door of the wooden hut together.
“Harry?” Hagrid opened the door, a waft of roasted chicken aroma drifting from inside.
He invited the two boys in.
On an iron plate over the hearth sat two large pieces of sliced leg meat, while a massive black hound crouched in the corner, drool dripping uncontrollably from its mouth.
“This is Fang.
He looks fierce, but he’s actually very friendly,” Hagrid said, pointing at the black hound.
Though Fang had shown clear hostility toward Elaine yesterday, under Hagrid’s restraint, he did no more than let out a couple of low growls and wouldn’t attack young wizards on his own initiative.
Hagrid and Mason introduced themselves.
The gamekeeper had been busy making lunch before they arrived, so he brought over two bowls of rock cakes soaked soft in warm goat’s milk—immeasurably sweeter and softer than the cakes Harry and the others had tried to eat yesterday.
“I heard Professor Snape mention you.
Must’ve been this morning, right when I went to the greenhouse to grab some things,” Hagrid blew on the freshly fried chicken leg, sliced it into small pieces with the belt knife at his waist, and swept them into Fang’s dish.
Then he stood up, reached out to grab a ham hanging by the window, and cut off a massive chunk effortlessly, shaving off the outer skin before placing it onto the iron plate. This chapter was taken from g.com without permission.
The aroma of butter fused with the smoked ham.
Even Harry, who was already full, felt his mouth water.
“Professor Flitwick and I were stunned.
Never expected the word ‘genius’ to come out of Snape’s mouth…
Harry, I was wrong when I told you yesterday that ‘he’s hardly ever liked any student.'”
“Then I’d better pray he hands me fewer books next week.” Mason gestured in the air with his hands.
“A stack this thick, and he wants me to memorize all of it within three months.”
“Maybe that’s just how Snape shows affection.
Anyway, Harry, did you need something?”
Harry had developed a headache whenever Snape was mentioned.
He was currently teasing Fang, though the big dog was too busy chewing to pay him any mind.
Hearing Hagrid’s question, Harry looked up and pointed at Mason.
“Hagrid, do you know where discarded teaching aids or decorations in the school end up?” Mason widened his eyes, employing the expert act-cute technique practiced to perfection by a certain pint-sized detective, making Harry gag twice beside him.
Hagrid didn’t catch the change in Mason’s tone.
He recalled his past experiences being called by Professor McGonagall to help around the castle and quickly offered an answer.
“The professors usually don’t waste teaching aids.
Aside from magical instruments that are damaged beyond repair, they just Transfigure things into other objects and leave them around the castle.
Most of the truly troublesome leftover scraps are vanished with spells to Merlin-knows-where.” Hagrid knew the professors used the Vanishing Spell to deal with trash—he could even do it himself—but he couldn’t casually reveal his ability to cast magic to outsiders, so he had to play dumb.
*Right.
How could I expect wizards who rely on spells or house-elves for housework to bother piling trash in a designated spot?*
Mason felt a headache coming on.
Was he going to have to pry a piece of marble off the castle floor and Transfigure it into a marble basin?
“Are you planning to make something?” Hagrid asked.
“A carving.
I want to make a palm-sized fountain for fun, and I need a few pieces of good-quality stone,” Mason lied off the cuff, his fabrication so natural he didn’t even blink.
Hagrid pondered, his hands never stopping.
He cracked four more eggs, pushed the grease from the fried ham over with a wooden spatula, fried one side of the eggs until golden-brown, flipped them a few times, and divided the fried eggs and ham into two small portions and one large portion.
He plated them and pushed them toward the two young wizards.
“If you’re not in a hurry, I can order some stone for you.
There’s a wizarding family in Hogsmeade that does that kind of work.” Hagrid dumped the remaining chicken and eggshells into Fang’s dish, finally free to sit opposite Mason.
“Speaking of carving, I used to know a few Hufflepuff students who liked doing that too.
Once, they even invited me to an eighth-floor classroom in the castle to look at their sculptures.
They did a grand job.”
“Strangely enough, when I passed by there a few times later, the door to that classroom was gone.
The room only appeared when those students were leading me…”
“The Room of Requirement?” Mason muttered softly under his breath, having almost forgotten about it.
“A room that disappears?” Harry’s attention was snagged. Follow the newest chapters on g.com.
Hagrid patiently repeated the story, though Harry lost interest upon hearing it was a room full of statues.
“…I can barely even shape a mud dog.”
Mason and Harry truly couldn’t eat any more.
They took Fang out for a walk, and by the time they returned, Hagrid had finished his meal.
As he had to go on patrol in the Forbidden Forest shortly, he packed up the extra lunch neatly for them to carry back to the castle.
Mason had only watched the first few movies and read the original *Order of the Phoenix* novel.
Relying on vague memories, he roamed the eighth floor of the various towers, looking for a corridor with a tapestry depicting trolls.
Harry had originally wanted to explore with him, but after climbing two towers, he was too exhausted and retreated to the dormitory, leaving Mason alone to search the final suspicious location.
“Found it.”
“I remember…
you walk past the tapestry three times while focusing on what you need in your mind?
Or was it five times?”
*I need a marble basin.*
*I need a marble basin.*
*I need a marble basin.*
Mason looked up and pushed open the door that had appeared out of nowhere on the wall opposite the troll tapestry.
“A storeroom?”
It was practically a junkyard.
What met Mason’s eyes was a sea of wizarding trinkets and trash from every era: countless old tables and chairs, giant sculptures, heaps of colorful banners, cheer boards from the four houses, and—holy crap, Gold Galleons?
Mason moved swiftly to scoop up the gold coin on the floor.
However, his extraordinary talent in Transfiguration immediately alerted him that something was off about it.
Looking up, he noticed a tiara set with an oval gemstone resting atop the head of a standalone wizard statue to his right, emitting a faint, weak glow.
A peculiar mental force swirled in Mason’s ears, guiding him to take off the tiara and put it on…
*Put it on…
Put it on…
This is Ravenclaw’s destiny…*
“What gibberish are you muttering?” Mason rolled his eyes.
By chance, he noticed a marble basin weighted down by old books right near his feet—likely a component salvaged from some old fountain.
Out of caution, Mason stowed the marble basin directly into his backpack before leaving the Room of Requirement.
Aside from his starting equipment, every time he stored something in his backpack, he had to ensure his hand made direct contact with the object.
Before confirming how dangerous the tiara was, Mason wasn’t foolish enough to touch it with his bare hands.
“Now everything is ready.”
Tonight, the waning moon faded into darkness, and the new moon was at hand—a perfect night to meet the stars.