A day at Hogwarts.

Chapter 696 A Heartwarming Gift

As the last days of October swept through Hogwarts, the students in the castle talked about the masquerade ball that was about to take place on Halloween Eve.

Outside the greenhouse where Charles conducted his experiments, one could see many enormous pumpkins growing along the edge of the Forbidden Forest.

Inside the greenhouse, the towering, arched glass dome resembles an inverted, transparent giant bowl, transforming the gloomy sky outside into soft, diffused light that falls evenly down.

The air was warm and humid, mixed with the earthy smell of fertile soil and the intense fragrance of exotic flowers.

Harry, Harry, and his friends, who had finished lunch early, arrived here and saw Charles waiting for them in the dining hall, though he looked somewhat haggard.

Hermione asked worriedly, "Are you sick?"

Last night, Charles told them to go back to the castle while he went to collect the hair. He didn't return until almost dawn this morning.

Charles mumbled, "It's nothing, I just caught a cold."

Hermione thought he went to Durmstrang to find Erica, where the weather is very cold, and it's normal for him to catch a cold.

Charles looked at Harry and said, "Harry, the goblin's hair is up to you."

"Listen carefully, you only have one hour for lunch break. When the time is up, no matter what you are doing or where you are, you must stop immediately, because the door key will automatically activate and return, understand?"

Harry stood ramrod straight, his eyes burning with unwavering determination, and declared loudly, "I understand, Charles."

"I will definitely complete the mission."

Charles nodded slightly, seemingly acknowledging Harry's determination and ability.

He took out a crystal bottle no bigger than a thumb. The bottle was translucent and contained a golden liquid that resembled liquid sunlight. It swirled and flowed slowly and gracefully within the bottle, occasionally splashing out tiny particles of light like stardust.

“Felix Felicis,” he handed the vial to Harry. “The dosage is precisely calculated, and it will only last for an hour and a half. It will make things a little easier for you.”

"Felix Felicis!" Ron gasped, his eyes widening like an owl.

Hermione frowned slightly, feeling that it was best to use this kind of potion sparingly.

Without a moment's hesitation, Harry took the small bottle that held the fortune, uncorked it, and tilted his head back to pour a small sip of the golden potion into his mouth.

This is a clandestine trip to Azkaban; if discovered, the consequences would be dire.

The original plan was to go to Hogsmeade Week, but everyone couldn't resist the urge to unravel the mystery of that enigmatic place as soon as possible.

An indescribable warmth instantly swept through Harry's body; it wasn't physical heat, but a comfort and confidence that came from the depths of his soul.

It was as if all his anxieties had been soothed, all obstacles seemed insignificant, and the world presented itself to him with unprecedented clarity and friendliness.

He couldn't help but break into a genuine, relaxed, and confident smile; he felt wonderful.

"Feels pretty good, right?" Charles observed the subtle changes in his expression and smiled. If Harry knew that this potion was made by Snape, one wonders what his expression would be.

He then picked up a small basket covered with red and white checkered cotton cloth and handed it to Harry, saying, "This is a gift for Pull-Up, a generous piece of beetroot cake. Dancing Grass Restaurant specially made it into the shape of a Halloween pumpkin, to be on the right track."

Harry took the basket, feeling its heavy weight in his palm and smelling a sweet fragrance emanating from the fabric.

"Ready?" Charles asked one last time, his gaze falling on Harry's somewhat worn sneakers.

Without waiting for a reply, he drew his wand and gracefully and precisely tapped it on the shoelace.

The shoes became door keys.

“Let’s go.” Charles waved his wand.

The next moment, Harry
I felt like I'd been kicked hard in the butt, and I stumbled forward.

Once he had a firm footing, he heard the familiar sound of the sea breeze.

Ahead lay an endless, leaden-gray sea, its heavy waves like enraged giants, roaring and crashing against the dark, menacing reefs below, shattering into countless icy white foams.

Behind me stood the building that resembled a giant tombstone—Azkaban Prison, towering imposingly at the highest point of the desolate island.

Just then, a faint sound, out of place with the roar of the waves, caught Harry's attention.

Looking in the direction of the sound, on the edge of the cliff not far away, a short figure wearing an obviously ill-fitting old cloak sat with his back to him on a low stool, holding a simple fishing rod in his hand, with a thin fishing line dangling into the surging seawater below.

Against the vast and oppressive backdrop of the sea and sky, that figure appeared exceptionally lonely and insignificant.

It's a pull ring; he's fishing, so he doesn't need to go inside.

Harry took a deep breath of the cold air, lifted the basket in his hand, and walked over cautiously with light steps.

The pull ring seemed completely absorbed in its own world, perhaps focused on the movement of the buoy, or perhaps simply enjoying this moment of false freedom away from the shadow of the high wall.

Harry was only a few steps away from him when he accidentally kicked a loose pebble, making a slight rolling sound, and he turned around abruptly like a startled rabbit.

He thought the Dementors were about to attack him, but when he saw that it was Harry Potter, he was instantly filled with extreme shock and disbelief.

"Harry Potter?!" The pull ring's voice became shrill and piercing with extreme shock, almost causing him to jump off the stool, nearly dropping his fishing rod into the sea. "You... how did you get here?!" "It's not the weekend, nor is it a holiday. You should be in class!"

Harry raised the basket in his hand, a bright smile spreading across his face, a stark contrast to the gloomy surroundings.

He said, "Halloween is almost here, pull the ring."

"I'm taking advantage of my lunch break to bring you a gift in advance."

“Halloween…? Presents?” Raglan repeated these two unexpected words, his shock gradually replaced by a deeper, almost bewildered confusion.

His wrinkled face, which usually only showed shrewdness and calculation, was now filled with bewilderment.

He had been effectively banished by Gringotts to the harsh land of Azkaban for far too long, so long that he had almost forgotten what it felt like to be remembered and cared for, so long that he had become accustomed to the indifference of the world and his own loneliness.

He stared blankly at the checkered basket Harry handed him, his nose twitching involuntarily as he immediately caught the sweet scent emanating from it.

Suddenly, a misty fog quickly filled his sharp eyes.

Pull-ring suddenly lowered his head, rubbing his eyes hard, almost violently, with the back of his rough hand, letting out a suppressed, choked gasp.

He tried to maintain his usual indifference and aloofness, but his slightly trembling, thin shoulders and his hands, tightly gripping the hem of his tattered clothes with knuckles white from the force, completely betrayed the collapse of his inner dam.

“Thank you… thank you, Harry Potter.” His voice was thick with a nasal tone and extremely hoarse.

He reached out his hands and took the basket with almost reverent and careful movements, as if it were made of the most fragile ice crystals and bore a tremendous weight.

After a brief silence filled only by the sound of waves, Rapunzel blinked hard, trying to dispel the untimely vulnerability and regain some of his former shrewdness.

He cleared his throat, his tone softening considerably, and asked earnestly, "So... you didn't come all this way to this godforsaken place just to deliver a cake to some old hag, did you?"

Is there anything I can do for you?

Harry didn't answer the request immediately, but said with genuine apology, "There is indeed a small favor I'd like to ask you for, but this cake is a sincere gift for you, and I hope you like it."

Gripen stared at Harry for several seconds, his large eyes seemingly trying to see through appearances and discern the truth of his words.

Finally, he nodded, his tone even carrying a hint of gentleness he himself hadn't noticed: "Go ahead, what is it? As long as I can do it."

Harry said in a serious tone, "You know, the Potter family once invented a really good shampoo."

Pull-ring nodded, a fact well-known in British wizarding society.

Harry continued, "I want to continue this research, so I'd like to ask for your help. I need a few strands of goblin hair to test the effects."

This request sounds so reasonable, especially in a wizarding society where it is perfectly normal for a young man to inherit a family business.

Coupled with the immense emotional impact of the unexpected gift, the pull ring barely entertained any doubts.

"Hair? Is that all?" He even seemed somewhat taken aback, as if he had anticipated an even more demanding requirement.

Without the slightest hesitation, he raised his hand and, with his long fingernails, precisely picked through the sparse, stiff, wire-like hair around his head, deftly plucking out a small tuft, which he then handed to Harry.

"Take them; hopefully they will be helpful to your research."

Harry suppressed his excitement and joy of success, solemnly placed the hard-won hair into a cardboard box he carried with him, carefully sealed it, and securely put it into the innermost pocket of his robe.

"Thank you so much, pull ring, this has been a huge help to me!"

Pull-ring waved his hand, his attention seemingly drawn back to the basket in his hand.

He couldn't help but lift a corner of the checkered cloth and saw the beetroot cake, carefully shaped like a plump pumpkin with a warm and tempting color. A genuine and complex smile appeared on his face, a mixture of deep emotion, indescribable heartache, and a long-lost, almost forgotten warmth.

“Well then,” Harry said softly, breaking the brief, strange silence on the cliff edge, “I won’t disturb your enjoyment of cake and fishing any longer, Pull-Bolt.”

Happy Halloween in advance!

Pull-Ring lifted his gaze from the cake, looked at Harry, and said, "Happy Halloween, Harry Potter."

"You'd better go back quickly. If Dumbledore finds out you snuck out, you'll be put in solitary confinement."

Harry nodded, gave the pull ring one last smile, and then activated the shoe key.

Everything went very smoothly, taking less than fifteen minutes in total.

Harry felt like he'd been kicked in the butt again, and he stumbled a few times.

"Boom!"

"Ouch!"

Harry felt like he bumped into someone, a woman, and knocked her down.

He looked closely and broke out in a cold sweat; lying on the ground was Umbridge.

(End of this chapter)