Hogwarts' Golden Glory

Kane looked into Harry's tired green eyes and tapped the edge of the Mirror of Erised with his fingertips.

"It's time to go back."

His voice held an undeniable calm: "Draco has arranged to train with the Slytherin team at Black Lake at six o'clock tomorrow morning—if you can't show up, he'll think you're scared."

Harry opened his mouth as if to retort, but then yawned.

These past few nights, he'd been pacing in front of the mirror, draining his energy.

At this moment, even the fingers gripping the invisibility cloak felt a little weak.

His eyelids felt as heavy as if they were filled with lead, but his gaze still unconsciously drifted toward the magic mirror.

The mirror gleamed alluringly in the moonlight.

But just then, Draco's joking voice suddenly echoed in his mind—

"What, Potter? Are you going to lose to me again next time?"

That mocking tone was like a bucket of cold water poured over Harry's head.

Draco and the others, as the victors, are working so hard, so why should he still indulge in this false dream?

No, he can't go on like this.

Dumbledore was right; indulging in illusory images would only make him weaker and less like himself.

"Take it." Kane conjured a small crystal bottle, inside which swayed a mother-of-pearl liquid.

"The Dreamless Sleeping Potion, a Christmas gift Professor Snape gave me last year."

As Harry took the medicine bottle, his fingertips touched the silver family crest embroidered on Kane's cuff—a dragon coiled in a thicket of thorns.

The image suddenly reminded him of something: "Wait, I heard that the Malfoy family has a dragon farm in Romania?"

Kane raised an eyebrow: "What, has the savior suddenly become interested in dragon taming?"

"It's Hagrid." Harry rubbed his reddened eyes.

"He recently secretly raised a baby Norwegian Spinosaurus, and half of its whiskers have been burned off."

Moonlight streamed through the high window, drawing a white dividing line between the two.

Kane suddenly chuckled: "Take me to see that big oaf after training tomorrow morning."

He turned and headed toward the spiral staircase. "Now, go to sleep, Potter—unless you want to see Draco with dark circles under your eyes."

The Black Lake was shrouded in a thin mist in the early morning, its surface shimmering with a pearly light.

Draco and his group were discussing their strategy for next week's Quidditch match.

Harry jogged along the lake, his breath condensing in the cold air.

He adjusted his breathing rhythm, maintaining a steady pace according to the training plan Kane had given him—the bottle of dreamless sleeping potion he had used yesterday allowed him to sleep through the night for the first time in months, and his steps were lighter than usual.

He turned past a patch of reeds and suddenly stopped.

Zhang Qiu was sitting on a blue stone by the lake, tying her running shoes. Her long, black hair was tied into a high ponytail, with morning dew still clinging to the ends.

Hearing footsteps, she looked up, a hint of surprise flashing in her almond-shaped eyes, before breaking into a smile: "Harry? You're here for a morning run too? I thought you weren't coming back today."

"Uh, yeah."

Harry subconsciously wiped the sweat from his brow, suddenly glad he'd listened to Kane's advice. "Kane said... I mean, Malfoy said the Seekers need to improve their stamina..."

"Kane Malfoy?"

Zhang Qiu tilted her head, a movement that made the small golden bell on her earlobe sway gently.

"He really is amazing. Before Christmas, he gave me a copy of 'The Eastern Quidditch Tactics Collection,' which contains some records of ancient Chinese flying techniques..." She suddenly stopped, a faint blush rising on her cheeks. "Sorry, did I say too much?"

"No!" Harry's voice was louder than expected, startling several water birds into flight. "I mean... that bell..."

He awkwardly pointed to her earrings. "They're beautiful."

Zhang Qiu's fingers traced her earlobe: "A Christmas present from my mother. It's said to bring good luck."

She stood up, brushed the grass clippings off her sweatpants, and said, "Want to run together? I'm on my way to the owl's hut to mail a letter home."

They ran side by side along the lakeside path, their footsteps startling the foxes hiding in the reeds, which buzzed in dissatisfaction.

Harry noticed that Cho Chang's running rhythm was very special—she inhaled every three steps and exhaled every two steps, like some kind of elegant dance.

"Your Christmas holiday..."

As Harry climbed the hill, panting, he asked, "How are you doing?"

Zhang Qiu paused slightly: "It's great. Mom made rice cakes, and I even tried making dumplings..."

Her voice softened, "I just miss school a little."

Sunlight pierced through the mist, scattering golden light across the surface of the Black Lake.

When they ran to the fork in the road under the owl's hut.

Zhang Qiu suddenly pulled a small red sachet out of her pocket: "This... is a sachet from our area, meant to bring good luck and protection. I was planning to give it to you after school started."

Harry took the sachet, his fingertips touching her warm palm.

The sachet is embroidered with a creature that looks somewhat like a phoenix, and the stitches are so fine that they seem impossible for a machine to do.

"I embroidered it myself," Zhang Qiu said sheepishly, smoothing her bangs. "It might be a little crooked..."

"Perfect."

Harry blurted it out, then was startled by his own bluntness.

He quickly added, "I mean, as a wizard, I appreciate this kind of exquisite craftsmanship... uh..."

Cho Chang suddenly burst out laughing, her eyes curving into crescents, a sound that echoed in Harry's mind.

When Harry returned to the castle with the sachet in his hand, the morning mist had already dissipated.

Sunlight streamed through the tall stained-glass windows onto the stone steps, casting a long shadow on him.

He looked down at the exquisite embroidery in his palm—the phoenix-shaped bird gleamed with a golden-red luster in the sunlight, every stitch and thread revealing meticulous care.

As he turned the corner, he nearly bumped into the other person.

"Looks like your morning run was quite fruitful?"

Kane leaned against a stone pillar, toying with a Galleon in his hand.

Sunlight danced on his long hair, reflecting a pearly sheen.

His gaze fell on the sachet in Harry's hand, and a slight smile appeared on his lips: "A mandarin duck embroidery pattern? Very tasteful."

Harry instinctively clutched the sachet tightly: "What—"

"The view from the west corridor of the castle is excellent."

Kane said casually, as Galleon rolled over between his fingers, "especially toward the direction of the owl hut."

Harry felt the tips of his ears starting to burn again.

He opened his mouth to argue, but found that Kane had already turned and walked to the other end of the corridor, his silver-gray school robe swaying gently behind him.

"Wait," Harry caught up, "about Hagrid—"

Just as Harry caught up with Kane, a series of hurried footsteps suddenly came from the other end of the corridor.

Draco Malfoy strode over, his platinum blonde hair gleaming in the sunlight.

He was carrying an ebony box inlaid with snake patterns, the corners of which were still covered in fresh dirt.

"I've finally found you!"

Draco, slightly out of breath, slammed the box down on the ground with a dull thud. "I heard you're going to help that big oaf raise dragons?"

His grey-blue eyes gleamed with a defiant light. "I'll go too."

Harry hesitated. "Are you sure you can?"

Draco's face flushed slightly: "I recognized it as a Norwegian Spinosaurus at first glance!"

He kicked the box. "The latest fire-resistant dragon food, even Fantastic Beasts magazine has reported on it..."

His voice trailed off as he glanced at Harry. "Of course, if the Savior thinks I'm in the way—"

"No, it's fine."

Harry didn't want Draco to continue, otherwise the whole school would know about it!