Chapter 438: Forbidden Forest Skirmish

That drop of blood was indeed only a tiny speck, but as it spread over the shell it didn't look like a mere drop at all; it quickly turned into a golden‑red web that enveloped the entire egg. The transformation must have been completed in an instant, and Bai Lang watched the shell, which had a crack in it.

Before he could see the creature inside, the cracked shell instantly turned into drifting black ash smoke, and the wind vanished with a single gust. "Hm?!" Bai Lang exclaimed in surprise; he had never seen such a shell—it resembled a vampire turned to ash by sunlight.

Since the shell turned to ash, the creature inside was revealed—a cat, an unmistakably plump kitten, and Bai Lang immediately knew it wasn't really a cat. Who has ever seen a cat with such a huge head and paws? It was clearly a juvenile of a large felid, a subfamily of leopards.

The youngster's fur was speckled, dark brown, and soft wings were attached along its back—indeed, it was a "cat" with bat‑like wings, and its segmented tail resembled more a scorpion's tail than a cat's.

"Manticore? Man‑faced lion‑bodied scorpion‑tailed beast? Yet it doesn't match." Bai Lang recalled the illustrations in the book; a juvenile manticore never looked like this—its head should have appeared like a prematurely aged human, not this genuine "cat‑like" form.

In any case, the kitten's eyes were still closed; Bai Lang cradled it in his arms and picked up a small black object nearby. Was it wood or stone? It seemed more like petrified wood or darkened wood; anyway the carving was quite abstract, probably depicting some animal.

"I can't make out the shape at all— is this thing a bear or a dog? Could it be a cat?" Bai Lang examined it from every angle, uncertain. "Since it's a gift someone gave me, it should be useful somehow." The man he saw with the woman seemed weaker than our family's rogue‑strategist master, yet certainly stronger than the current Bai Lang by an unknown margin.

Just the sight of a human‑shaped figure flickering into such a ferocious, splendid beast reminded Bai Lang of this world's so‑called Animagus—Complete Beast‑Transformation Transfiguration. At Bai Lang's own level of Transfiguration, he doubted he'd ever become an Animagus in this lifetime… but who knows? After all, Potter's father, Sirius, and especially that mouse don't seem like top‑scoring students. Yet perhaps they're all Transfiguration prodigies…

Deep down, Bai Lang wanted to give it a try. Whether he could succeed was uncertain; perhaps he could become an Animagus, "and then have a chance to sneak a look at the books in the Restricted Section." He stuffed the odd little sculpture into his pocket, cradling the juvenile cat—actually, the creature's size when it emerged from the shell was already comparable to an adult Siberian cat.

A large bulge rose on Bai Lang's chest; with one hand supporting the cat beneath, he silently slipped back to the common lounge and finally returned to his dormitory. As for Harry and his trio, he didn't care; his priority was to figure out how to feed this "kitten."

Fortunately, Bai Lang already knew where Hogwarts's kitchen was, so when he went out again he returned laden with copious milk and cheese. The cat, whose eyes were still shut, had an astonishing appetite, gulping several liters of milk and a few pounds of cheese in one go… then it staggered to Bai Lang's bed, collapsed, and fell asleep.

The next morning, Bai Lang secretly stocked his dormitory with plenty of cheese and milk, then prepared to attend class. "What? Harry Potter and the others were caught by Professor McGonagall night‑patrolling, and no one deducted fifty points? Wow, she's impressive. Maybe a hundred and fifty points?" Upon hearing the news, Bai Lang saw the three as if they were frost‑bitten eggplants—almost everyone, all Gryffindor students looked at them with disgust, and even Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw students were displeased. Only the Slytherin students welcomed it.

"Oh, so Gryffindor's house points fell to the lowest among the four houses. No big deal, deduct whatever points you like." As soon as Bai Lang finished speaking, no one came to settle the score—after all, he's considered one of the top oddballs in Gryffindor. In short, his classmates knew Bai Lang didn't care about point deductions; he lacked any sense of collective honor.

No one complained; just looking at the wand in his hand told you everything— not just anyone can wield a wand weighing ten‑plus jin and make it flourish. In his free time, Bai Lang actually performed chaotic Cloak‑Wand techniques and Great Sage Staff techniques around campus. The whirring staff wind, an unrivaled force, left no doubt that Bai Lang could easily smash any student's head, and his Physical Stupefy Spell and Physical Forgetting Spell were masterful.

The professors couldn't blame him, because it was his wand; you can't claim that practicing wand techniques violates school rules. Moreover, Bai Lang never struck any student's head—at most he sparred with the Peepee Ghost. The professors, being masters of magic, sometimes witnessed Bai Lang dueling the Peepee Ghost.

The Peepee Ghost had been smashed into mush more than once; lately the two have grown less shy about being seen, and their pranks have become increasingly outrageous. Usually a glance is enough before they launch an attack. The Peepee Ghost can use everything from fireworks to Big Poop Bombs, employing any tool to prank Bai Lang, while Bai Lang simply swings a staff at it.

The clash was swift and simple; usually the Peepee Ghost would be smashed in a single blow, then slowly re‑inflated and, after a bow to Bai Lang's wand, retreat temporarily. Of course, there were times when Bai Lang got scorched by fireworks, his face blackened, or was pelted by a Big Poop Bomb, after which the Peepee Ghost would slip away, cackling bizarrely from a height, while Bai Lang went to clean up…

Pranks aimed at other students decreased considerably, and everyone was grateful to Bai Lang for that; the professors couldn't control such mischief—they could deduct points from Bai Lang but not from the Peepee Ghost, and Bai Lang claimed it was "self‑defense." In the end, they just turned a blind eye. This is why many thought the wand in Bai Lang's hand was excessively brutal.

Bai Lang didn't show his cat to Hagrid yet; he wanted to wait until it opened its eyes. The creature's appetite kept growing, and no one knew how it managed to eat so much—fortunately it didn't have a habit of making a mess; after being taught once, it would go to the dormitory bathroom to take care of itself.

Now Harry, Hermione Granger, and Neville Longbottom were punished to assist Hagrid with night patrols of the Forbidden Forest, and Hagrid didn't know that almost every night Bai Lang lingered there—his role as the forest's caretaker went unnoticed. That night was no different; Bai Lang, clad in a black robe, flitted through the woods.

"Hmm, the Forbidden Forest is restless tonight." Bai Lang clutched a branch with one hand, levitating his whole body mid‑air. From his height he could see Hagrid holding a lantern, accompanied by Fang, and four other lantern‑bearing young wizards. Bai Lang sensed something unusual—a deep, encroaching darkness.

Bai Lang thrust his claws, propelling himself onto the canopy, scanning the Forbidden Forest from above. He spotted glowing markings he'd seen before—the blood of a unicorn. Bai Lang recalled the passage in the book, "So it's that double‑faced one, huh?" The timid professor from his Defence Against the Dark Arts class had always kept him on guard.

Bai Lang sprinted across the canopy, soon spotting a dark silhouette, followed by a dog's bark—presumably Hagrid had also noticed the blood, sending Harry, Draco Malfoy, and Fang together while he took Neville Longbottom and Hermione Granger. "That old giant has no sense of proportion! The sensible thing would be to have Fang escort those four young wizards back to your house immediately." Bai Lang sighed; Hagrid's mind was perpetually muddled, unable to gauge urgency, and his eccentric taste was beyond discussion.

Bai Lang was faster, racing to the unicorn's location; although Hagrid's direction was off, Bai Lang found it. A cloaked black‑clad man was confronting a wounded unicorn, seemingly about to kill it. "Probably an Avada Kedavra," Bai Lang thought, flicked his toe, and kicked a branch—thick as a bowl rim—causing it to snap with a whirring sound, spinning toward the cloaked figure.

Bai Lang followed closely, swooping from the opposite side with his wand primed. As expected, the cloaked man's wand flashed, the branch flew off, and he turned toward Bai Lang, shouting "Avada Kedavra!" A green bolt surged. Bai Lang dodged and simultaneously hurled a captured caterpillar. The caterpillar collided with the green bolt and died instantly, while Bai Lang closed in on the cloaked man, striking upward with his staff.

The cloaked man leaned back, evading Bai Lang's strike, but Bai Lang followed through, smashing downward; the man's head snapped sideways—no ordinary person could execute such a move—but his right shoulder blade and arm took the blow. With the sound of bone cracking, the man let out a short, painful scream, and his wand was snapped cleanly by Bai Lang.

The third form, shadow‑like and seamless, struck at the chest; this time the opponent vanished like a ghost, swirling away with the wind at incredible speed… Bai Lang gave chase, but after a few hops on the canopy the foe had already disappeared without a trace.

Bai Lang didn't return; hearing hooves drawing near the wounded unicorn, he promptly turned and fled the Forbidden Forest, sprinting toward the castle. What would happen to Professor Quirrell if he didn't get the unicorn's blood? That depends on whether Voldemort supplies enough power—he likely has little time left after being gravely wounded by Bai Lang…

"I think tomorrow he'll have no choice but to steal the Philosopher's Stone." As for whether he should go himself? That's Harry Potter's job, under the watchful eye of the old bee; it's not his place to act. What Voldemort intends for the British wizarding world? Bai Lang didn't care at all—Harry Potter would eventually deal with him, wouldn't he?

Bai Lang was interested in whether giants, trolls, werewolves and the like could be fought, and how his own magical energy could be merged into his Qi, ultimately to develop his universal spell. Of course, there was also the question of what exactly his pet cat and that little sculpture were…

But contrary to Bai Lang's expectations, Professor Quirrell actually appeared normally—though his complexion was pallid, even more gaunt than before, he showed no obvious signs. "Perhaps he took some potion to heal his wounds, but it's clearly not working; his life force seems almost drained." He didn't look at Bai Lang, and Bai Lang had no intention of fighting him inside Hogwarts.

One could say he caught Voldemort off‑guard; if the old fellow were prepared, Bai Lang didn't think he could win now, since magical effects are highly unpredictable. If Voldemort could summon fierce fire, Bai Lang would likely be reduced to ash.

The Golden Bell Shield Divine Skill could not be employed at this moment, and even if it could, it was uncertain whether it could withstand fierce fire.

Exams were approaching, and the weather grew hotter—Bai Lang scoffed at a temperature still under thirty degrees, calling it heat? His cat had finally opened its eyes, almond‑shaped yellow eyes, and its size had grown to near that of a wolf‑dog; it could now eat meat.

Bai Lang considered buying cat or dog food for the creature, but Hogwarts made beef, lamb, even venison easy to obtain—Bai Lang could hunt in the Forbidden Forest himself, yet the hassle‑averse Bai Lang chose to bring the cat along, carrying it while hunting deer and other beasts.

The youngster still couldn't fly, but it frequently spread its wings and flapped. Two small horns had sprouted on its forehead and seemed to keep growing. Its scorpion‑like tail had developed a barb, but this wasn't a simple stinger; the entire tail bone formed a club‑like spike, like a mace.

A creature like this would surely endear itself to Hagrid; Bai Lang thought he might actually ask Hagrid to look after it during his holidays. As for the sculpture, Bai Lang still hadn't uncovered its mystery, but when he held it he seemed to hear something. Lately, aside from reviewing and training, Bai Lang had been devoting himself to studying it.

Exams were nerve‑wracking, but Bai Lang faced the written test without fear; he was always better than the slacker Ron, yet the practical exams were another matter… In Transfiguration, he finally turned a beetle into a legged button; in Spell Class, he made a radish sprout a hopping leg; in Potions Class… Snape stared at him for a while, then had him brew a healing potion instead of the Elixir of Life.

In short, Bai Lang passed almost every subject with an "A"; only Herbology and History of Magic earned him an "E." He might be the lowest‑scoring Gryffindor, but that didn't matter—he could advance to second year… As for Potter, Bai Lang thought he was close to completing his first‑year objectives.