Chapter 153: Mark Of The Ouroboros
Melvin pushed open the oak door painted with tung oil and left the tavern.
Barnabas Guffey was a seasoned editor-in-chief. His long career had accumulated rich experience, and his understanding of reporting and public opinion was very clear. In some aspects, he was more perceptive than Melvin, grasping the key points in a short time and promising that he would definitely become the school’s outstanding mouthpiece.
Melvin felt that Mr. Guffey had some misunderstandings about Hogwarts and him. They were not an organization like the Ministry of Magic; how could they manipulate public opinion?
Was Headmaster Dumbledore some conspirator who concealed the truth?
It’s all prejudice from the world.
Melvin shook his head and exhaled a puff of white mist with a sigh.
There were few pedestrians on the street. It was cold, and everyone was huddled in shops for warmth. It was like two worlds inside and outside.
Melvin wore no scarf or gloves. The wind blew the chill of deep winter snow onto his body. Even filtered by the Bubble-Head Charm, it was still a bit chilling, and goosebumps appeared near his wrists.
He was holding a cardboard box, which contained an apple pie given by Madam Rosmerta. She said she made it herself and asked him to take it back to try.
The tavern owner was too enthusiastic, and Barnabas was persuading him nearby, leaving him no chance to refuse. After he walked out with the box, he realized he couldn’t put it in his pocket and had to hold it like this.
What a hassle.
The young snake occupying his pocket had half of its body retracted, and its head was also tucked away as much as possible, with only its eyes showing. It was completely unaware of this, only knowing that it was cold outside and the wind made its body lazy, not wanting to move.
However, it was a magical creature, and its magic could resist this instinct.
Not long after leaving the tavern, he vaguely smelled a sweet fragrance in the air. Honeydukes’ shop window was plastered with promotional advertisements, and owls were constantly entering and exiting through the skylight. Around holidays, the candy store’s mail-order business was incredibly good.
Madam Flume was packing candy at the counter. Noticing someone passing by outside the shop, she looked up and saw Melvin, breaking into a smile.
Ever since this young professor came to teach at the school, he had come to Hogsmeade to make purchases with the Deputy Headmaster every quarter. After two years, everyone had become familiar with this young professor.
Because of Professor Levent, Hogwarts began to give candy to students on their birthdays, and the school became a major customer of Honeydukes, for which the candy store owner was very grateful.
Madam Flume nodded in greeting. Seeing the box he was holding, she looked puzzled.
“It’s an apple pie from Madam Rosmerta…” Melvin explained helplessly.
Madam Flume nodded thoughtfully. They exchanged a few pleasantries, wished each other a Merry Christmas, and then one continued packing candy while the other walked towards the school.
Melvin hadn’t walked far when he heard shouts and footsteps behind him. He turned to see Madam Flume catching up, smiling, and handing him a freshly packed box of candy gift.
On the shop signs behind them, bright red ribbons fluttered in the wind.
Melvin suddenly felt that the whole street looked much better.
In the deep winter of December, the wind and snow stopped, and the weather cleared up.
…
By the time he entered the school gates, it was already two in the afternoon. Melvin walked along the path on the grounds. The express train had already departed, and the students had left school. The footprints and wheel tracks left by the little wizards in the morning were covered by the snow, creating a vast expanse of white, exceptionally quiet.
The Whomping Willow in front of the greenhouse shook its branches every few hours, shedding snow and ice crystals, appearing to be in good spirits. After being stripped bare by Harry and Ron at the beginning of the semester, it had been depressed for months and finally saw other plants become bare.
In another two or three months, new leaves would sprout again.
Melvin walked past the edge of the Forbidden Forest and heard Fang’s barking in the distance, whimpering and woofing, likely playing with Hagrid.
He didn’t return to his office immediately but followed the path to the Black Lake.
The clear blue sky was pure, with an occasional owl flying by. The snow-covered ground reflected the light, making it somewhat dazzling. The vast surface of the lake was frozen solid. The snow had been cleared, revealing an open space with messy scratches, left by the little wizards ice skating.
Standing in the winter sunlight, looking at the frozen lake surface, he couldn’t help but think of the winters at Mount Greylock.
He remembered those days at Ilvermorny when he was still a student. He could never get used to the wizards’ entertainment methods and had no interest in Quidditch, Gobstones, or Wizard Chess. Other students spent their winter leisure time huddled around the fireplace in the common room, but he would sneak out of the castle to find Horned Serpents in the mountain streams.
In the deep winter, the temperature on Mount Greylock was even lower, and the stream would freeze and stop flowing. The Horned Serpents would hide in tree hollows and mostly sleep.
Occasionally, when they wanted to move, they would use their sharp horns to break through the ice. When foolish fish came to absorb oxygen, the snakes would dive into the water for a full meal.
Every time they heard his footsteps, the Horned Serpents would feel impatient, yet they would always come out and speak in a lazy tone. He clearly remembered the scene of the Horned Serpent emerging from the ice, its scales glistening with fine ice crystals, like frost on a tree.
The Horned Serpent was not a very good tutor. It was neither good at Conventional Magic, Dark Magic, Astronomy, nor Alchemy. Its prophecies and Divination were innate talents that could not be taught. When receiving experience from the snake, one had to translate the snake’s thoughts into wizardly understanding, so Melvin’s study of extracurricular magic was always bumpy.
Just before graduation, he believed the snake’s words and hastily left school, thinking there was some fated arrangement, only to be told to leave before its death.
He returned to Mount Greylock in the summer for his summer vacation, full of joy and anticipation for a long-awaited reunion, only to receive the news of the Horned Serpent’s death. Even now, it still felt somewhat unreal. That night, under the moon, it entrusted its snake egg in the Snakewood. Now that it had hatched, he realized that the Horned Serpent was truly gone.
He didn’t know the Horned Serpent’s name, nor was he sure if it had one. He felt regret when he recalled it, so he named this little one as soon as it was born.
The young snake crawled out of his pocket at some point, poking half its head out to look outside and making a soft hissing sound.
Seeing that the sunlight was good, Melvin casually pulled it out of his pocket and placed it on the candy box, intending for it to bask in the sun.
However, the winter sun had no warmth. When the cold wind blew, its tender scales shrunk and clung to its body. It pitifully climbed onto his hand, its tail wrapping around his wrist to absorb heat, refusing to let go.
It was a Horned Serpent, yet it hatched in winter and hadn’t truly swum in the water yet.
Melvin half-crouched down, brought his hand close to the ice surface, and unleashed his magic. A patch of Fiendfyre landed on the ice.
The flames flickered slightly, emitting heat high enough to smelt steel. In a blink of an eye, the ice and snow melted, and steam billowed. After the flames extinguished, the originally frozen ice surface had a shallow pit scorched into it, filled with recently melted lake water that still held some warmth.
The young snake poked its head out, staring blankly at the scene, then looked back at Melvin, a human-like surprise appearing in its snake eyes.
Its forked tongue flickered, as if sensing the moisture permeating the air. The young snake on Melvin’s wrist began to wriggle, gradually approaching the water pit. It first dipped its horn into the water, its eyes lit up, and then plunged its entire body in.
The young snake entered the lake water without any discomfort, stretching its body and swimming freely.
Melvin couldn’t help but smile, watching the young snake swim. It felt as if he understood the feeling of the Horned Serpent when it spoke to him back then. He waved his hand, summoning a few blue flames to hover in the air, preventing the water pit from freezing over again.
The young snake swam and played carefree, while the young professor stood by the lake, gazing into the distance.
The cold wind howled, the sky was clear and blue, and the scenery of the Forbidden Forest and hills in the distance came into view.
After an unknown amount of time, possibly due to the effect of the Fiendfyre, Melvin faintly heard the sound of ice cracking. He looked down.
The young snake had fallen asleep at some point. Although its eyes were not closed, its body had lazily stopped moving, coiling into several circles. Its tail was unconsciously wrapped around the horn on its forehead, looking like an Ouroboros.
The Horned Serpent used to do the same pose when it slept.
Looking at that pattern, many thoughts flashed through Melvin’s mind. The problems that had troubled him for a long time were suddenly clear.
The mountain streams of past summers, the frozen lake of the current winter, everything seemed to have changed, yet nothing had changed. It was still one person and one snake, seemingly out of place in this wizarding world, yet closely connected.
Melvin exhaled a breath, forming a mist of white vapor.
He pointed his wand at the sky.
Silver light erupted, sweeping across half the Black Lake. Pure blue sky continuously gathered silver radiance, like streaks of daylight fireworks. People at the edge of the Forbidden Forest and in the castle could see a slender water snake appearing in the sky, coiled into a circle, its tail wrapped around the sharp horn on its forehead.
In a very short time, it was almost enough to dim the winter sun.
In the Headmaster’s Office, Dumbledore looked at the mark in the sky and murmured softly:
“The Ouroboros Mark.”
…
Muggle Studies Office.
“Click…”
Melvin closed the door. With a thought, orange flames immediately rose in the fireplace. The firelight reflected on the wall, and the room gradually became warm.
Unlike Silent Spellcasting, which required chanting in one’s mind, this method of spellcasting was quicker and demonstrated skillful manipulation of magic. Melvin could do it before, but now it was easier, almost instinctive.
This was not a Christmas gift from a magical creature, but a change in mindset he had realized himself. The thoughts of a wizard influence the soul, and the soul is the source of magic.
Thinking of the Ouroboros Mark just now, Melvin’s gaze fell upon the glass bottle inverted on the third shelf of the bookshelf.
As soon as the door opened, Rita hid in the sawdust, only showing her head and antennae to peek. She was surprised to see the inverted glass bottle directly lifted, fresh air pouring in, sawdust and leaves flying aside, revealing the beetle.
Rita was stunned for a moment.
Melvin smiled and said, “Ms. Skeeter, shall we talk?”
The beetle froze in place, its wings spread and trembling slightly, then transformed into a swift black shadow, darting towards the half-open window.
Melvin was patient, tapping his fingers unhurriedly. Magic and intent spread towards it.
The beetle frantically flapped its wings, only to find that the distance to the window was not closing but widening. A gentle yet irresistible pulling force enveloped it, rendering all its struggles and wing-flapping futile.
The beetle was pulled towards the desk and landed opposite the young professor.
Melvin picked up the teapot with one hand, poured out steaming pumpkin juice, and offered it to the beetle: “Do you want to change back yourself, or shall I use magic to make you appear?”
A white light flashed on the beetle. The light receded, and Rita Skeeter appeared in the seat opposite.
After months of imprisonment, the star reporter was no longer as refined as before. Her previously carefully permed curly hair had straightened and hung messily. She had lost weight, her cheekbones protruding. Her fingernails were three inches long, with two inches covered in dark red nail polish, and the inch near her finger completely bare.
The jeweled glasses were askew on one leg, and her gaze behind them was exceptionally complex.
Fear, surprise, and some hidden hatred and anger.
What did he want to do? Why did he let her out?
How did he know she was an Animagus?
Suppressing the questions in her heart, Rita, with a sliver of hope, tried to appear composed: “Professor Levent, illegally imprisoning a wizard, torture, and abuse. I don’t know how the American Ministry of Magic will handle it, but in Britain, this is enough to land you in Azkaban for several years.”
Melvin acted as if he hadn’t heard, wearing a welcoming smile: “Wouldn’t you like to try? Hogwarts Kitchen’s pumpkin juice.”
The aroma of the steaming pumpkin juice wafted into Rita’s nostrils, making her agitated after eating leaves and tender grass for months. Her mouth watered continuously.
Swallowing twice, Rita grabbed the teacup and gulped down the pumpkin juice. Her voice remained defiant: “Even if you compensate and apologize, I will never forgive you!”
“I also have candy from Honeydukes.”
Of course, he wouldn’t use the gift he just received today to entertain guests. Melvin opened the drawer, rummaged through it, and pulled out some toffees to hand over.
They had been in the drawer for a while; he didn’t know when they expired.
Rita swallowed a few more mouthfuls of saliva. Looking at the few candies, her gaze was somewhat greedy, as if considering whether such an action would be beneath a star reporter. However, after a moment of hesitation, she unwrapped the candy and put it in her mouth.
Her teeth got stuck, making her speech slurred. Her demeanor was no longer as strong: “If you let me go now, I can consider not pursuing your actions and not prosecuting you with the Ministry of Magic.”
Melvin refilled her pumpkin juice and said with a smile: “Ms. Skeeter, what do you want to prosecute me for? An unregistered illegal Animagus, or for repeatedly disguising yourself to pry into private matters and profiting by publishing them in the newspaper.”
The flames in the room’s fireplace blazed fiercely. Rita’s tired and hungry body was replenished with energy, but a chill enveloped her heart. The chill came from the young professor’s smile.
Hearing this sentence, Rita’s last shred of hope was crushed. Her fear reached its peak: “You… what do you want to do?”
She quickly realized something and murmured in disbelief: “You want to control me?”
Melvin said calmly: “I prefer to call it cooperation. I will keep your Animagus secret and provide exclusive news. Ms. Skeeter only needs to publish articles as usual. It’s a very profitable business, isn’t it?”
…
Half an hour later.
Rita sat in a chair, staring blankly at the Ouroboros Mark on the inside of her arm.
