r18novel Chapter 11 Perfect Harness: Iron Rod Weapon
Chapter 11 Perfect Harness: Iron Rod Weapon
However, neither Fred nor George believed Harry's words.
Snape was a despicable, treacherous, and venomous man who despised students with prestige and popularity. Being a Slytherin, he was naturally at odds with Gryffindor.
Having served as Potions professor for ten years, which Gryffindor student hasn't suffered his insults and abuse?
Now that the famous Harry Potter has enrolled in Gryffindor, I wonder what despicable methods he will use to humiliate him. Even if he doesn't die, he'll be skinned alive.
The twins wanted to remind Harry again, but seeing him drinking heartily, they swallowed their words.
As the saying goes, "One cannot gain wisdom without experience." Once he takes Potions class, he will know just how wicked Snape really is.
That night, Harry drank more than a dozen cups of sweet juice, making his stomach churn; after dessert, he swallowed two crème brûlées, which churned in his stomach, while he continued to drink and chat with his heroes.
After an hour or two, Dumbledore waved his hand, and the banquet ended. He then gave some golden words of advice, and Harry and the other wizards followed the prefects to the Gryffindor common room.
He gave the voluptuous woman in the portrait on the gate the password "Dragon Scum," and the door opened. Harry climbed into bed, his head hitting the pillow, and he was fast asleep.
He wandered in his dream, traveling for a long time, but found no trace of Zhou Gong (the Duke of Zhou). The darkness obscured his surroundings, while a woman's weeping echoed through the air, accompanied by a shrill laugh. A flash of green light startled him, and a sharp pain shot through his forehead from the electric scar; the scarred man suddenly became conscious.
"Kill them!"
The shout startled my roommates, who were half-awake and muttering to themselves.
Harry took a few quick breaths and looked out the window. The sky was beginning to lighten; it was already 1:15 AM.
He was no longer sleepy and rubbed his forehead, thinking about the dream, but he felt something was strange.
In the past, when I was haunted by nightmares, I only saw flashes of green light, and nothing else. But now, at Hogwarts, I hear a woman weeping and hears her shrill laughter.
Furthermore, this scar, which had never caused pain for over ten years in my previous life, has now flared up severely.
As the saying goes, "A storm is brewing," and today a strong wind has risen, showing that Hogwarts is by no means a peaceful place.
He listened to Ron's loud snoring, but felt uneasy.
He put on his robe, took his wand, tucked the watermelon knife into his waistband, and went to the open space of the castle to practice his martial arts.
It is:
A nightmare awakens me in fear; danger lurks at Hogwarts.
Sweating profusely while practicing martial arts, one must strive for self-improvement to achieve peace.
After exchanging blows and practicing martial arts, sweat dripped from his forehead and he exhaled white breath.
Wiping away his sweat, Harry thought to himself: Although I have some skill, I am too thin and young to unleash my full power.
If thieves come to attack, you will need a handy weapon to accompany you.
He searched the castle but couldn't find a blacksmith's shop. He encountered a passing ghost and asked it what was wrong. The ghost laughed, "Mr. Potter, you can't find many blacksmiths, not just at Hogwarts, but throughout the entire wizarding world."
"By the way, I died in 1945, and I don't know much about what happened after that."
Upon hearing this, Harry sighed to himself and returned to the Gryffindor common room.
Before the fat lady could even give the command, the door opened by itself, revealing Ron and Hermione coming out, ready to start class.
"Good morning, Harry," Hermione greeted. "Where have you been?"
Harry bowed. "Greetings, elder sister and brother. I had hoped to have a good weapon forged, but it seems there are no blacksmiths in the wizarding world. It's truly a case of having gold and silver but nowhere to spend it."
Ron was puzzled. "A weapon? Isn't a wand one?"
Harry laughed, "Brother, have you ever thought about what it would be like to be attacked at close range? If I had a good weapon, a wand in my left hand and a knife in my right, I could fight both at long range and in close combat. Wouldn't that be wonderful?"
Although Ron's father worked in the Department for the Prohibition of the Misuse of Muggle Items and had seen some Muggle creations, he was, after all, a pure-blood wizard, and such Muggle theories were like gibberish to him.
He hesitated for a moment, unable to answer, and just scratched his head.
Hermione, being Muggle-born, understood Harry's meaning, but still shook her head and said, "Harry, you should give up on this idea. Only goblins can forge weapons."
Harry exclaimed in surprise, "Oh my! I thought those goblins were just agents, but it turns out they can also be good blacksmiths!"
Hermione rolled her eyes. What use would swords be if you learned magic? Harry's thinking was really out of touch with the times.
Without saying another word, she pulled Harry and Ron to class.
The first lesson today is called History of Magic, which is a historian's perspective. Professor Nabins is a ghost who claims to have lived for a hundred years and knows everything about the past and present, both domestic and foreign; he is a living fossil.
He spoke slowly, as if chanting scriptures, and before long most of the students had fallen asleep.
Harry listened for a while, but nothing came of what he wanted to hear. His curiosity piqued, he stood up and exclaimed, "Good professor, why don't you tell us about Voldemort! Teach us how to protect ourselves!"
As soon as he finished speaking, the desks and chairs in the classroom collapsed like a mountain. Many dozing students were terrified, and Professor Binns was also stunned, his soul almost leaving his body.
A sharp-eyed student exclaimed, "Oh no! Professor Binns looks like he's about to ascend to heaven! Quick, go get Professor McGonagall!"
Less than the time it takes for an incense stick to burn, Teacher McGonagall arrived in a rage, calmed Professor Binns down for a while, taught him to solidify his soul, deducted another point from Gryffindor, and sentenced Harry for scaring the professor.
"Harry, how could you call Vader by his first name?" Hermione grumbled during lunch. "Besides, we're talking about Ulric and Murric today, Vader is a sixth-year topic!"
"You lost Gryffindor points on your very first day of school—no, your very first lesson in life!"
Harry, however, didn't care and said, "Don't worry, big sister. What good are these grades? They won't stop us Gryffindor brothers and sisters from drinking and having fun."
Ron, his mouth full of bacon, chimed in, "Don't worry, Hermione. Fred and George always seem to lose points, but everyone still loves them, right?"
Hermione's eyes widened, her chest heaving, yet she didn't know what to say.
In the afternoon, Professor Sprout gave a lecture on herbs. The short, plump woman was very kind and exhibited many strange plants, some of which could move, laugh, and make sounds, which broadened everyone's horizons.
Later that evening, Harry returned to the common room, quite satisfied with what he had gained. However, without a suitable weapon by his side, he couldn't sleep soundly at night.
The next morning, after practicing his martial arts, Harry went to Charms class with Ron and Hermione.
The professor for this spells class was named Felius Flitwick. He was barely three feet tall, with disheveled hair and beard, and a bald head. He needed to stand on several feet of books to reach the podium.
Upon seeing this, Harry whispered, "How come this professor is so short? Is he a natural dwarf?"
Hermione was still annoyed that Harry had ignored the point deductions, but when he asked her, she couldn't help but reply, "Professor Flitwick has goblin blood."
Harry was overjoyed; his weapon was finally secured!
When class ended, the students all ran off to their Transfiguration class, but Harry came to the podium, bowed deeply, and said, "Student Harry Potter greets Professor."
Flitwick had always admired Harry's miraculous survival, and seeing that he was such a gentle and polite wizard, he naturally took a great liking to him.
"Oh, stop bending over, Harry. Did you miss something in class? Don't worry, I'll help you."
Harry stood up, his eyes gleaming. "A teacher's privilege, but not related to spells. I've heard the professor has goblin blood, is that true?"
The classroom grew slightly cold at his words. Flitwick's smile froze, and he said, "Mr. Potter, what do you mean by that?"
"I wish to forge a suitable weapon. I have heard that fairies are excellent blacksmiths, but I have never had the chance to meet one. I hope the professor can introduce me to one. I would be extremely grateful for any reward in gold or silver."
Upon hearing the explanation, it was as if the ice and snow around them melted away, and a warm current returned to spring. Flitwick smiled and said, "Oh, I see."
Seeing that the short professor seemed to be implying something, Harry said, "If not this, then what?"