Harry Potter: The Rise Of Malfoy

Chapter 60.

After parting ways, both Soren and Hermione returned safely to their respective dormitories, but poor Harry was not so lucky.

In his search for Hermione, he not only failed to find her but was also caught by Filch, who made him copy school rules for most of the night, nearly breaking his hand before letting him go.

Not long after, feeling utterly exhausted, Harry lay down on his bed and felt as if he instantly fell asleep... He had a very strange dream. He was carrying a crossbow and walking in a forest, following a silvery object. The object weaved through the bushes ahead, and he could only see it flickering between the leaves.

"Ah ah ah ah ah ah—! No no no no no—!"

Harry suddenly woke up, as if he had been struck in the face. At that moment, he heard some noise around him, and the voice of Seamus Finnigan came from the other side of the room. "What's going on?"

Harry seemed to hear the dormitory door slam shut. He finally found the opening of the curtains and pulled them apart, just as Dean Thomas turned on the light.

Ron sat up in bed, pulling the curtain aside, his face showing extreme fear. "Black! Sirius Black! He's got a knife!"

"Right here! What just happened! He slashed the curtains! Woke me up!" Ron continued to shout.

Dean questioned whether Ron was dreaming, but Ron's slashed curtains indicated that this was no ridiculous dream. The five boys rushed downstairs at full speed. Behind them, dormitory doors opened one after another, and many sleepy voices asked them questions.

"Who was just shouting?"

"What are you doing?"

The embers in the fireplace illuminated the common room, which was littered with trash left over from the party, and the room was empty. At that moment, a few girls came down the stairs, dressed in pajamas and yawning. Soon, the boys began to appear as well.

"Everyone go back upstairs!" Percy said loudly, hurrying into the common room while pinning his student council badge onto his pajamas.

"Percy—Sirius Black!" Ron said weakly, "In our dormitory! With a knife! Woke me up!"

The common room fell silent immediately. Before long, Professor McGonagall appeared. After entering the common room, she slammed shut the hole in the portrait behind her and looked around furiously. "Gryffindor won the match, and I'm pleased, but this is utterly ridiculous! Percy, I expected better from you!"

"I certainly didn't let them do this, Professor!" Percy tried to appear more serious, even though he was in his pajamas and still wearing the student council badge, which looked a bit comical. "I was trying to get them all back to bed! My brother Ron had a nightmare—"

"It's not a nightmare!" Ron shouted desperately, "Professor, I woke up, and Sirius Black was standing in front of me with a knife!"

Professor McGonagall stared at him, not believing Ron's words. However, at Ron's insistence, she asked Sir Cadogan, who was guarding the entrance to the common room, "Sir Cadogan, did you just let a man into Gryffindor Tower?"

"Of course, madam!" Sir Cadogan exclaimed.

Professor McGonagall could hardly believe it, and she quickly pressed Sir Cadogan about the password, only to receive an even more astonishing answer—Black had the password for the entire week, which he had read off a small piece of paper.

Professor McGonagall returned from the portrait hole, her face as pale as chalk, her voice trembling with barely suppressed anger, "Which fool wrote down this week's passwords and left them lying around?"

There was a moment of silence, then a very small, frightened voice broke it.

Neville Longbottom slowly raised his hand.

That night, nobody in Gryffindor Tower slept. Everyone knew the castle had been searched again, and all the Gryffindor students were gathered in the common room, waiting to hear if Black had been caught. At dawn, Professor McGonagall returned and told them that Black had escaped once more.

The next day, wherever they went, they saw increased security measures.

Professor Flitwick was using a large photo of Black to identify every door that could serve as an entrance to the castle; Filch was suddenly rushing back and forth in the corridors, blocking up every small crack in the walls and rat holes. And poor Sir Cadogan, whose brains were full of oil and glue, was dismissed—his portrait was returned to the cold, empty staircase landing on the eighth floor.

Then, the Fat Lady returned. The Board of Governors hired a professional painter to restore the Fat Lady's portrait, but she was still extremely nervous. Her return to work came with conditions—she demanded extra protection. A group of rough, giant troll security guards was hired to protect her. They patrolled the corridors in groups, looking fierce, comparing the sizes of the clubs they held.

These troll guards were not the same kind of mountain trolls that had been knocked out by Soren in their first year. They were a new species that had been bred by wizards over generations, lacking the terrifying odor and possessing more humanity and intelligence, although their IQ still fell short of human levels. In the wizarding world, there is a profession specifically for training these trolls to become qualified troll guards, known as "Troll Trainers."

In the British wizarding community, there are several companies responsible for training troll guards, but without exception, they all have the shadow of the Ministry of Magic behind them. The Ministry would not allow private enterprises to freely produce forces that could be used for military purposes; although ordinary people might be oblivious to these matters, Soren was well aware that the largest shareholder in these troll guard companies was the Ministry itself.

Because of this incident, Ron became a somewhat notable figure. Even though he was still shaken by the events of that night, whenever someone asked him about it, he would excitedly recount the details, adding many exaggerated elements. It was the first time Ron had ever experienced such attention, and he clearly enjoyed the spotlight.

Poor Neville was punished by an angry Professor McGonagall and was forbidden from going to Hogsmeade. Not only that, she put Neville in detention, forbidding anyone from giving him the password to enter the tower. Poor Neville had to wait in the common room every night to see if anyone could take him in—each time, the troll guards would mock him with unpleasant remarks.

However, these punishments were nothing compared to what his grandmother, Augusta Longbottom, had in store for him. Two days after Black had broken into the tower, she sent Neville something that was possibly the worst thing a Hogwarts student could receive at breakfast—a Howler.

On that day, the school's owls flew into the Great Hall, delivering mail as usual. Just then, a huge barn owl landed in front of him, clutching a scarlet envelope, and Neville was stunned. Harry and Ron, sitting opposite him, immediately recognized it as a Howler—Ron had received one from his mother the previous year.

"Run, Neville!" Ron urged him hurriedly.

Neville didn't need to be told twice. He grabbed the envelope and ran out of the Great Hall as if he were carrying a bomb, causing the Slytherin students to burst into laughter at his antics. Soon, everyone heard the howling letter explode in the foyer—Neville's grandmother's voice, amplified a hundred times louder than usual, sharply condemning Neville for bringing shame to the entire family.

At the Slytherin long table, Daphne cast a deafening charm around her before whispering, "Soren, you really guessed it right, Black has returned."

Meredith disdainfully glanced in Ron's direction: "Those Gryffindor fools probably think they scared Black away—how shameless... If Black's target really is Harry, facing five weak boys, four of whom are asleep, and he chose not to kill them to silence them, that contradicts the rumored ruthlessness. It seems there must be more hidden behind Black's imprisonment!"

She was used to Soren's strategic thinking and sharp insights, and seeing Ron's clownish performance at that moment made her look down on him.

Astoria blinked her lovely big eyes and asked, "Soren, what do you think Black really wants?"

Soren confidently replied, "We can narrow it down now; what Black is after is definitely something from Harry's dormitory. The most likely target is Ron's belongings, after all, he chose to cut through Ron's bed curtains first. The Weasley family, while also an old pure-blood family, is known to be quite poor—so anything related to wealth can be ruled out. What else is worth the risk for Black to steal?"

Daphne's lips curled up confidently, "Black has no relatives or ties, the only thing that could make him so obsessed is one thing—hate! A deep-seated hatred! What he is looking for must be related to revenge."

Soren shrugged, "What he truly wants, only he knows. We've inferred enough at this point. Whether Black's loyalty was with Dumbledore's Order of the Phoenix or Voldemort's Death Eaters has nothing to do with us. Our families have no grievances with him; he just wants revenge, and the target is likely not us. We just need to sit back and watch."

Daphne cautiously asked, "So—are we doing nothing?"

Soren revealed a cryptic expression, "Who knows?"

That evening, Harry and Ron left the Gryffindor tower, jogging past the troll guards, heading straight for the foyer—Hagrid was already waiting for them.

"I need to discuss something with you two," Hagrid said as he sat down between them, looking very serious, at least different from his usual demeanor. "It's about Hermione."

"What's wrong with her?" Ron asked.

"She's fine, but that's the problem... After Christmas, she's come to see me several times, often saying she doesn't know what to talk to you about..." Hagrid suddenly shook his head, "No, that's not it... What I mean is, she keeps saying she's very lonely because you both ignored her for the Firebolt, and then when you got the Firebolt back; now you're not talking to her again, just because of her cat..."

"It ate Scabbers!" Ron interrupted angrily.

"Because her cat did what all cats do," Hagrid stubbornly continued, "She's cried several times. You need to know, she's not having a good time, that's too much to handle... If you ask me, she wants to do too many things... but she still finds time to help me prepare for Buckbeak's case."

"Hagrid, we should have helped you, sorry..." Harry said awkwardly.

"I'm not blaming you!" Hagrid clearly didn't mind, "You both have enough on your plates. I've seen you training day and night on the Quidditch pitch... But I must tell you, I think you two should value your friends more than your brooms and rats, that's what I wanted to say."

Harry and Ron felt a bit ashamed at Hagrid's heartfelt advice, but their thoughts were influenced by their respective personalities.

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