The person is at Hogwarts, but the system is in Middle-earth!

Jingle bells, jingle bells, jingle all the way, Christmas is here.

The Great Hall of Hogwarts was still decorated in a magnificent golden hue, with twelve huge Christmas trees adorned with glittering holly berries and magical snowmen singing carols. Warm, dry snow drifted down from the ceiling, and the air was filled with the enticing aroma of roast turkey and Christmas pudding.

"Eat more, Sam," Rowe said seriously to Ron, stuffing a baked potato into his mouth. "Once we cross that line and enter enemy territory, there will be no more hot food. Only cold rocks, moldy bread, and orc whips. The place we're going is so bad that even rats wouldn't spend the night there."

Ron, his mouth stuffed with pudding and cheeks bulging like a hamster, mumbled, "You mean the Slytherin cellars? I heard it's really cold there, and right under the Black Lake. But I also heard their food is pretty good..."

Loewy didn't answer. Instead, while Professor Flitwick was conducting the choir, he quickly grabbed a still-dripping roasted turkey leg, wrapped it in parchment paper, and skillfully stuffed it into a specially made pocket inside his robe.

[Item Obtained: High-Grade Marching Rations x1]

[Attributes: Restores stamina +50, increases morale +10]

[Comment: A true knight-errant never refuses any food source.]

"What are you doing?" Hermione leaned closer and asked in a low voice. She looked extremely nervous, her face was pale, and she was clutching the last ingredient of the Polyjuice Potion—powdered African tree snake skin—tightly in her hand.

"Strategic reserves." Rowe patted his bulging chest, looking completely matter-of-fact. "If we're trapped down there, or need to wage a protracted war behind enemy lines, this could be a lifesaver. You never know when a famine might strike."

After the dinner, apart from the trio who stayed behind, the other students went back to the common room to open their presents. Harry, Ron, and Rowe took advantage of the darkness and quietly slipped into the girls' restroom on the second floor.

Myrtle was sitting on the toilet tank, swinging her transparent legs, watching them with schadenfreude: "Oh, what kind of prank are you going to pull now? If you die, I don't mind sharing this toilet with you."

Hermione ignored her and went straight to the innermost compartment, where she lifted the lid of the cauldron.

A plume of black smoke rose up. The substance looked like some kind of boiling mud, or cursed asphalt, bubbling and gurgling.

"It's done." Hermione's voice trembled slightly, both from nervousness and excitement. "It's finished."

Luo Wei leaned closer to take a look and pinched his nose.

[Item Analysis: Compound Decoction]

[System Determination: Orc Transformation Potion]

[Ingredients: Leeches, sapwort, horn of a two-horned beast... and a touch of dark resolve.]

[Effect: Racial Disguise/Genetic Recombination]

[Side effects: Extreme nausea, may cause permanent psychological trauma]

"It smells like rotten cabbage boiled with stinky socks." Ron covered his nose and took a step back, his face turning green. "Are we really going to drink this? I think even poison smells better than this."

"This is cheap orcish liquor," Rowe said without batting an eye, though his stomach was churning. He forced himself to remain calm. "In the underground factories of Isengard, orcs grow up drinking this stuff. It gives us savage strength and a cruel appearance, making us blend into the darkness. Once we drink it, we become part of the abyss."

He took out three glasses and carefully scooped out the cement-like medicine.

“We need to add the ‘essence’ of the person we’re transforming into.” Hermione’s hands trembled as she pulled out two strands of hair. “These are Millison Burst’s… I took them from her robes at the Duel Club. That girl was as strong as an ox.”

Harry pulled out Goyle's hair, which was coarse and stiff like brush bristles; Ron pulled out Crabbe's, which still had some unknown debris stuck to it.

Rowe looked at the black hair in his hand—he'd stolen it from a broom belonging to an older Slytherin student. The guy's name was Blaise Zabini; he looked burly and had a sinister look in his eyes, just like Rowe's image of a "Dark Orc Captain."

"For the Shire," Loewy raised his glass. "For Frodo. For those who can never return."

"To find out the truth." Harry took a deep breath, ready to die.

The three of them tilted their heads back at the same time and poured the thick, disgusting liquid down their throats.

In that instant, Luo Wei felt as if he had swallowed a lump of burning coal, or a razor.

[Warning: Genetic recombination has begun]

[Overwriting biometric features...]

Pain level: Severe

Loading skin texture: rough... Adjusting bone density... Generating fangs...

His internal organs were contorting, his skin felt like it was being gnawed by countless ants, and every nerve was screaming. He bent over, gripping the edge of the sink tightly with both hands, watching his reflection in the mirror begin to distort.

His face was elongating, like melting wax. His bones were cracking. His once delicate features had become rugged and grotesque. His shoulders broadened, his muscles bursting the buttons of his shirt, and his robe became taut.

When the pain finally subsided, standing before the mirror was no longer Rowe Baggins, but a burly, fleshy-faced Slytherin student with a fierce look in his eyes. His skin had become dark and rough, and a natural mockery played at the corners of his mouth.

[Disguise complete]

[Current Identity: Orc Berserker]

Strength +3, Intelligence -2, Charisma -5

[Gain passive ability: Slytherin Pass]

Rowe tried clenching his fist, the powerful feeling captivating him. He turned and saw Harry transformed into Goyle, blankly touching his short hair, looking like his IQ had dropped by at least 50 points; Ron transformed into Crabbe, his belly bulging like a beer barrel, trying to pull up his trousers.

"Wow." Ron looked at Rowe, his voice becoming gruff. "You look... really like you want to punch someone. If you walked out like this, even Snape would give you a thumbs up."

"This is the power of darkness," Rowe said gruffly, his voice low and hoarse. "Remember, we are orcs now. Walk with a swagger, speak rudely, and show disgust at anything beautiful. We must think like those scoundrels."

"Where's Hermione?" Harry asked, adjusting to Goyle's clumsy body.

The door to Hermione's cubicle remained closed.

"I...I'm not going." Hermione's voice came from inside, sounding strange, like she had something in her mouth, or like the cry of some kind of animal. "You guys go...hurry up, don't waste time."

"Hermione, are you alright?" Harry asked worriedly, trying to push the door open.

"Run!" Hermione screamed. "That's an order! Leave me alone!"

Lowe frowned. The system showed Hermione's vital signs were stable, but the race field seemed to have a bunch of garbled characters, and even a [feline] icon flashed by.

[Warning: Teammate's status is abnormal]

Non-human characteristic reactions detected

[Speculation: Was the Polymorph spell a failure? Or... a Druid form shift?]

"Ignore her." Rowe made a decisive decision, displaying the decisiveness of a captain. "Since she's our tactical commander, we must obey orders. Perhaps she's undergoing some deeper druidic transformation to cover our escape. We only have one hour. Time is of the essence, move out!"

Then, three menacing-looking Slytherins emerged from the bathroom, each step making a thud on the floor.

Lowe still carried his frying pan on his back—though now it looked rather small and delicate on his broad back, like a comical ornament or a breastplate.

"Wait a minute," Ron pointed at the pot, "you're carrying this around even after you transform? That's really weird. What Slytherin would carry a pot around like that?"

“This is my totem.” Rowe glared at him, his fierce gaze making Ron shrink back. “Like an orc’s battle flag. I don’t feel safe without it. And if anyone asks, I’ll just say it’s spoils I just stole from Hufflepuff’s kitchen. That fits our image, doesn’t it? Greedy, gluttonous.”

They descended the stairs, the air growing colder and the light dimmer. The portraits in the corridor pointed at them, but this time out of fear, not curiosity.

"Remember the password," Harry whispered, trying to mimic Goyle's slurred tone, "Pureblood."

Luo Wei gave a cold laugh, a laugh that came from the bottom of his heart.

"What an arrogant command. It's like writing 'I am a racist' on their forehead."

They stood before a damp stone wall. Harry cleared his throat and said in Goyle's husky voice, "Pure-blood."

The stone wall slowly slid away, making a heavy scraping sound, revealing a long, narrow, and low basement. The walls and ceiling were made of rough stone, and round green light bulbs were hung from the ceiling by chains.

[Environment: Mild Fel Radiation]

[Mission Objective: Infiltrate and gather intelligence / Uncover the Dark Lord's secrets]

Luo Wei took a deep breath and stepped into the green glow first, swaggering in.

"Dinner's ready, boys."