bacchusnovels Chapter 346 Penelope's First Reward
Chapter 346 Penelope's First Reward
Chapter 346 Penelope's First Reward
"It's time to keep your promise," Penelope's voice trembled slightly, revealing a hint of anticipation.
"Master—" she continued, her eyes gleaming with longing and fervor.
Sean's gaze lingered on Penelope, gradually settling on the white silk faintly visible beneath her wizard's robes, and a smile involuntarily crept onto his lips.
"Come in."
She nodded slightly, a blush of excitement spreading across her face; the invitation filled her with immense exhilaration.
Sean gently pushed open the door and let Penelope into his office.
The dim candlelight flickered in the room, casting shadows on the surrounding walls, instantly making the atmosphere more tense and ambiguous.
Penelope entered the house, seemingly slowing her pace deliberately, her steps light and graceful.
"Master..." she said softly, her voice gentle yet tinged with urgency.
Sean leaned against the table, his arms crossed over his chest, his gaze revealing a mixture of scrutiny and subtle pleasure.
It feels like... a hunter looking at prey that has already fallen into a trap.
"You did a great job, Penelope," he finally said.
Penelope lowered her eyes, bowed slightly, and awaited Sean's next instructions, her chest heaving gently, showing her growing urgency.
"However..." Sean's voice suddenly lowered, his tone carrying a profound meaning, "The reward is not so easily obtained."
Penelope looked up, her eyes still burning with the same fervor and desire, which only intensified because of his words.
"What should I do?"
"Take off your clothes."
Sean said it bluntly.
As soon as he finished speaking, Penelope's eyes widened suddenly, her already flushed face turning completely red. But she quickly understood what Sean meant, and without hesitation, she finished. Sean put Penelope down, turned around, tidied his clothes, and prepared to leave.
As he opened the door, he heard a weak but firm voice behind him: "Thank you for the reward, Master..."
Sean turned around and saw Penelope's tearful smile.
"Ready?" Sean said, sounding somewhat reluctant. "Concentrate? Okay, let's begin!" This was the second time he had opened the box today, and the Dementors emerged from it, instantly plunging the classroom into cold and darkness.
"Put Your God on the hook!" Harry yelled. "Put Your God on the hook! Put Your God on the hook!" The screaming in his mind surged again, like the sound of an off-tuned radio, rising and falling.
He could see the Dementor stop, and then a huge silver shadow burst forth from the tip of his wand, hovering between him and the Dementor.
Despite his weak legs, Harry struggled to stand, unsure how long he could hold on.
"Protect the Gods!" Sean roared and charged forward.
With a snap, Harry's Patronus and Dementors vanished together. He slumped into a chair, feeling utterly exhausted, his legs trembling.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Sean use his wand to put the Dementor back into the box.
"Excellent!" Sean strode up to him. "Finally, things are looking up!"
"Shall we try one more time? Just one more time?"
“Not now,” Sean said firmly. “We’ve had enough practice tonight.” He handed Harry a Honeydukes chocolate. “Eat this, or Madam Pomfrey will come after me.”
Sean paused for a moment, then continued.
"You're setting your expectations too high. For a thirteen-year-old wizard, summoning a vague guardian spirit is already a remarkable achievement. At least you're not fainting anymore, are you?"
"I thought the Patronus would drive the Dementors away or make them disappear or something," Harry said tearfully.
“A true Guardian Angel can do that,” Sean explained, “but you’ve made great progress in a short time. If the Dementors reappear in the next match, you can at least temporarily control them and land safely.”
"But you said that if there are many Dementors, they will be even more difficult to deal with," Harry said with some concern.
"I have complete faith in you," Sean said with a smile. "Well, here's a little reward for you, a drink with three brooms." He said, pulling two bottles from his briefcase.
"Butterbeer!" Harry blurted out. "I love that!"
The two drank their butterbeer in silence until Harry couldn't help but ask the question that had been bothering him: "What's under the Dementors' hoods?"
Sean thoughtfully put down his bottle and said, "Hmm—most of the people who know the truth are in bad shape and can't tell us. You have to understand, Dementors only take off their hoods when they use their last and most terrifying weapon."
"What is that?"
"People call it 'the Dementor's Kiss,'" Sean said with a hint of sarcasm. "They use this method on those who want to destroy everything. I suspect there's some kind of mouth-like thing under the hood, because they'll press their chin against the victim's mouth and suck away their soul."
Harry accidentally sprayed out a mouthful of butterbeer.
"What—they will kill—?"
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“No,” Sean shook his head, “it’s worse than that. As long as your brain and heart are still working, you can still live even without a soul. But you will no longer be conscious, no longer have memories, no longer have—nothing, and no hope of recovery. You will just be a living shell, and once the soul is lost, it can never be found again.”
Sean took another sip of his butterbeer and added, "That's Sirius Black's fate. The Daily Prophet reported this morning that the Ministry of Magic has ordered that once he's found, the Dementors will deal with him this way."
Harry froze, the thought of Dementors sucking people's souls from their mouths sent chills down his spine.
He thought of Blake again, and a mix of emotions welled up inside him.
"He deserves it," he said suddenly.
"That's what you think?" Sean asked softly. "Do you really think anyone deserves this punishment?"
"Yes," Harry insisted, "because—because of what he did—"
To prevent Harry from saying anything that would hurt Sirius, Sean interrupted, "Next week, or around this time?"
"Okay." Harry took a bite of his chocolate, left the classroom, walked down the corridor, turned a corner, and sat down behind a suit of armor.
They started eating chocolate.
Despite eating the chocolate, he still felt a strange emptiness.
Hearing his parents' voices in their final moments was indeed terrifying, but Harry only had a few opportunities to hear them as a child.
If he expects to hear it again, he will never be able to conjure a powerful guardian spirit.
"They're dead," Harry told himself sternly. "Hearing their voices over and over won't bring them back to life. If you want to win the Quidditch Cup, you'd better control yourself."
He stood up, stuffed the last bit of chocolate into his mouth, and walked toward the Gryffindor Tower.
However, halfway there, Harry felt like he had forgotten something again.
Rocket crossbow?
Yes, rocket crossbow.
We'll just have to wait until next time...
Harry's life has been quite ordinary these past few weeks since the start of the school year.
Rather than describing it as ordinary, it's more accurate to say it's a return to the daily routine, which is what most young wizards experience every day during their years at Hogwarts.
Every night, Harry could see Hermione making love in a corner of the common room, where several tables were covered with textbooks, arithmetic and divination charts, rune dictionaries, Muggle lifting diagrams, and densely packed notes.
She hardly speaks to anyone, and if disturbed, she often responds with harsh words.
"How did she do that?" Ron asked Harry in a low voice one evening. Harry was busy writing the dreaded paper Snape had assigned about undetectable potions when he looked up and saw Hermione almost completely hidden by a pile of rickety books.
"What are you doing?" Harry asked.
"Attend all her classes!" Ron exclaimed eagerly. "This morning I overheard her talking to Professor Victor, the witch who teaches arithmetic and divination. They were discussing yesterday's lessons, but Hermione couldn't possibly have attended one; she was in our Magical Creatures Protection class with us! And Ernie Macmillan told me that Hermione has never missed a single Muggle Studies class, but half of those classes conflict with Divination, and she hasn't missed a single Divination get out of class!"
Harry doesn't have time to investigate the secrets of Hermione's incredible timetable right now.
He needs to finish Snape's paper as soon as possible.
However, he was interrupted again two seconds later, this time by Wood: "Harry, did you get your rocket crossbow back from Professor Phillips?"
Harry scratched his head awkwardly, feeling a pang of annoyance.
He was embarrassed to tell Wood that he had forgotten to get the rocket crossbow back from Professor Phillips twice in a row... but Wood understood his unspoken understanding through his expression.
Perhaps this is the bond that exists between Quidditch teammates.
"Sigh, Harry," Wood sighed, patting him on the shoulder, his tone tinged with helplessness but mostly with anticipation. "You know how important the rocket crossbow is for the upcoming match; we have to make sure every single detail is perfect. The next match is no joke."
He paused, his eyes hardening. "If we want to win the Quidditch Cup, the performance of the Rocket Crossbow will be crucial."
Harry nodded, feeling guilty for forgetting about the rocket crossbow twice in a row.
He also knew what would happen without the rocket crossbow...
"Don't worry, Wood." Harry finally made up his mind. "I'll definitely go to Professor Phillips first thing tomorrow morning and get the rocket crossbow back."
"Okay, it's settled then." Wood nodded in satisfaction, turned and left, still muttering tactical arrangements under his breath, seemingly already preparing for the next match.
Next week is the match between Ravenclaw and Slytherin.
This concerns the future fate of Gryffindor.
To be honest, it doesn't feel good to have your fate controlled by others... but that's the reality everyone has to accept when necessary.
In fact, asking Professor Phillips for the rocket crossbow went much more smoothly than Harry had anticipated.
At the office door, Harry explained his purpose for being there to Sean.
"Ah, a rocket crossbow! Yes, yes, yes."
Sean slapped his forehead, as if he had just remembered something important, and then hurriedly got up and walked to his desk.
"I should have returned it to you a long time ago, Harry." He said, rummaging through a cabinet under the table. "Actually, I've been keeping it here—I just forgot about it when I was busy with other things." His voice sounded apologetic.
A moment later, Sean pulled a gleaming rocket crossbow from the cabinet and carefully handed it to Harry. "Here, Harry, keep it sharp. This broom is no ordinary weapon. Hopefully, it will give you a significant advantage in the upcoming matches."
Harry nodded, took the rocket crossbow, and felt its familiar lightness and speed, his heart filled with excitement and gratitude.
"Thank you, Professor."
Harry's tone had never been so excited. Sean smiled and waved his hand. "It's okay, as long as you perform well in the game. Remember, confidence is the key to victory."
Harry thanked him and prepared to leave the professor's office.
The moment he stepped out the door, he felt as if a huge weight had been lifted from his heart.
The moment he walked into the Gryffindor common room with the rocket crossbow, he became the most dazzling person in the entire hallway and even the entire building. Everyone turned to look at him, and those who were excited about the rocket immediately surrounded Harry.
"Where did you get this, Harry?"
"Can I try?"
"Have you ridden it yet, Harry?"
"Ravenclaw is doomed, and they're riding Seven Stars Sweeper!"
"Can I take this, Harry?"
The fire crossbow bolt was passed around among the crowd, and everyone admired it carefully from various angles.
About ten minutes later, the crowd gradually dispersed, and Harry and Ron finally saw Hermione.
She was the only one who didn't rush over to watch; she kept her head down, focused on her homework, and carefully avoided their gaze.
Harry and Ron walked toward her table, and Hermione finally looked up.
"I've brought the Firebolt back." Harry smiled and held the Firebolt high.
"See, Hermione? There's no problem at all!" Ron said smugly.
“But who could have been sure back then!” Hermione retorted. “At least you know it’s safe now.”
"Yes, that's what I think too," Harry nodded. "I'd better put it upstairs—"
"I'll get it!" Ron said eagerly. "I need to give Banban the tonic."
He carefully took the crossbow bolt and carried it up the stairs to the boys' dormitory as if it were a fragile piece of glass.
"Okay, can I sit down?" Harry asked Hermione.
"Hmm, that should be fine," Hermione said, moving a pile of parchment from the chair to the side.
Harry glanced around at Hermione's messy table, then at her still-wet arithmetic paper, next to an even longer Muggle research paper, "On Why Muggles Need Electricity," and the runic translation she was working on.
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