Chapter 464: Hogsmeade

The Quidditch match is about to begin, and Harry seems to be in a much better mood. Besides training, Bai Lang has always been ungrateful about his muddy antics in the rain. It's been three years, and Hogwarts still hasn't managed to make Bai Lang like Quidditch; he has almost never watched a match. Neville Longbottom's training has taken shape, and Bai Lang has already begun training his basic hand‑to‑foot techniques.

After strengthening his waist and legs, Bai Lang won't teach him the Southern Dipper White Tiger Fist or any deeper Ultimate Secret of fist techniques; instead he starts very simply with boxing and wrestling—leg kicks are taught a little in wrestling but certainly not mainstream, while joint‑locks and choking techniques get far more emphasis than kicks. More emphasis is actually on equipment; Bai Lang has Neville Longbottom do various weighted exercises and running, of course while maintaining specific breathing and visualization techniques.

If he can't forge a single breath, Bai Lang doesn't think Neville Longbottom can turn his magical power into magical martial strikes, let alone bind it to a weapon to create terrifying killing power. And how does one cultivate a single breath in this world? Bai Lang thinks it may come from visualizing magic and hardening the body. "Even if he fails, Neville Longbottom has at least gained a strong body, hasn't he? If the breathing method works, forging a single breath is entirely possible."

Bai Lang can have a breath of "Qi" permitted to exist, so there's no reason Neville Longbottom can't train it. Perhaps a bit of mental pressure would let Neville Longbottom perceive the Qi—nothing simpler than a life‑or‑death moment. So while Neville Longbottom was concentrating, Bai Lang let out a sudden Lion's Roar, and the white tiger's killing aura burst forth, the most he could manage. Neville Longbottom flinched, and Bai Lang thought he was about to wet himself.

"Calm your mind!" Bai Lang let out a Lion's Roar, and Neville Longbottom shivered before fainting. "It's over, he really peed. He got scared into a blackout." Bai Lang sighed, then dunked Neville Longbottom into the Black Lake for a soak, and afterward carried him back to the dormitory for a hot‑water rinse. When Neville Longbottom came to, Bai Lang noticed a faint Qi on him, the power bursting from his muscles, and Bai Lang's fingertips traced the muscles on Neville Longbottom's arm.

"As expected, I can write a textbook now. The muscle‑stimulating method plus breathing really works." How far can Neville Longbottom's Qi grow? Bai Lang estimated it would be about five to six times his current Qi before hitting the ceiling, after which Neville Longbottom's own limit couldn't rise further. "Of course, if he becomes extremely angry, a breakthrough is possible, but in this world, tenfold is the ultimate limit."

"Congratulations, Neville Longbottom, you can now say you've entered the basics of magical martial arts; you're qualified to continue training. Next I'll teach you how to strike people and how to slash people." Bai Lang said with a grin, "But first I need to find you a suitable sword and other weapons—otherwise we can start with a wooden stick… after all, distance sense matters more than weight."

Just as Bai Lang was devising dozens of training methods for Neville Longbottom, seventh‑year Wood—the captain of the Gryffindor Quidditch team—posted a notice in the common room, "Recruiting new players." By tradition, the Quidditch team usually recruits new members starting in third year to handle the turnover; first‑ and second‑years are too young, third‑year is just right. Neville Longbottom sprang up, grabbed Bai Lang, and they ran toward the Quidditch pitch.

Almost every third‑year Gryffindor student went, and Harry and the others were quite surprised to see Bai Lang there as well. "Hey? Ron Weasley, you're here too? I thought you weren't interested in Quidditch." Ron Weasley said, already eager to try out. Bai Lang smiled, "Ah, Neville Longbottom brought me. By the way, Ron Weasley, which position are you trying out for?"

"I think I could be a good keeper," Ron Weasley said bluntly, his red hair flashing. Hermione would definitely not try out—she's not the type to step onto the Quidditch field, and it's not that Bai Lang looks down on her; Hermione's athletic sense is truly indescribable. Neville Longbottom said he wanted to be a chaser, but Bai Lang thought he had no chance—Neville Longbottom's flying skills are just average; at least he can stay aloft.

Since they were here, Wood and the others had some expectations for Bai Lang—because they all knew he could fight, the kind of terrifying enforcer type, and he'd make an excellent striker. Bai Lang was indifferent, "Since I don't want to play Quidditch, I shouldn't join the tryouts and waste everyone's time and enthusiasm." But Wood's enthusiasm was high, and Bai Lang really didn't want to disappoint him, so he still had to refuse.

"Hey, why not have some fun," Ron Weasley, Harry, Neville Longbottom, Seamus and the others invited, and Bai Lang didn't want to deny them face. He could only sluggishly climb onto his wand—yes, up to now Bai Lang still couldn't make the school broom obey his commands. He grabbed a stick, floated up slowly and performed a few maneuvers, but compared to Harry he was far behind and not as fast.

Wood launched two rogue flying balls; as soon as they rose, they hurtled toward Bai Lang. He casually swatted them twice, sending the two cracked balls far away. "The feel is good, but they're a bit fragile; my technique is limited, otherwise those two hits would have shattered them already."

"Hey Wood, where do you want me to send these two balls?" Bai Lang called to the airborne Wood. Wood pointed to two directions, and Bai Lang effortlessly flicked the balls, which kept coming from various angles, into the spots he indicated. As a striker, Bai Lang was outstanding, but his flying speed was mediocre, only comparable to Neville Longbottom's.

Bai Lang found Wood's face amusing, the man's expression constantly shifting between hope and disappointment. "Don't be sad, Wood; I'm not joining the Quidditch team anyway." Wood let out a heavy sigh. "Fine, never mind. Ron Weasley, you try."

In the end Ron Weasley was selected as a reserve keeper, and Neville Longbottom unsurprisingly was not chosen…

At the end of October, just before Halloween, third‑year students will get their first chance to go to Hogsmeade—on weekends. It's the only wizarding village in Britain, with a few interesting shops. Bai Lang has a permit, but Harry does not.

The so‑called wizarding village is just that—several shops and some residences. Bai Lang bought plenty of sweets and chocolate at the Honey Duke candy shop, but the place he went to drink butterbeer wasn't the Three Broomsticks run by the pretty witch Mrs. Rosmerta; it was the dirty Pig's Head tavern. He pulled up his hood, took out half a mask and put it on as he entered. "Fill it with butterbeer," Bai Lang said, pulling out a large mug.

The old man at the bar gave Bai Lang a glance, tapped the table to signal he must pay first. Bai Lang produced a silver coin, placed it on the bar, then nudged the mug. Filling Bai Lang's large mug required two bottles of butterbeer; the tin‑crafted, hand‑made beer mug was custom‑made for him. He took a big gulp, "Whew, good thing I wanted it cold; if it were warm it'd be too cloying."

Anyway, the drink actually contains no alcohol, and to Bai Lang it tastes worse than cola. Unfortunately his age only allows him to drink butterbeer; otherwise he wouldn't mind a bit of wizarding whisky or rum. He returned to Hogwarts early, and of course Bai Lang saw the sour‑faced Harry Potter, "Hey, Harry. Want a piece?" Bai Lang pulled out a big chunk of chocolate and tossed it to Harry, "Don't overthink it; it's just a wizarding village, to me it's like Diagon Alley, maybe even less."

As for whether Harry can complete his mental conditioning, Bai Lang hummed a tune and didn't care. He returned to the common room and stuffed everything he bought into his dorm—he bought a magical anvil, and a furnace that was still Muggle‑made; the magical furnace seemed unable to reach high temperatures? Still, Bai Lang thought he needed to have one of each. Forging magical weapons would surely be an interesting endeavor, and Bai Lang believed that.

And now he has money; estimating roughly a thousand Galleons, he could set up a full magical forge for himself. He still needs to buy a Muggle electric hammer, a cut‑off angle grinder, and of course a belt sander. For this, Bai Lang thinks he needs to borrow from a Unicorn—though unlike dealing with an Eight‑Eyed Spider, he won't kill the Unicorn; at most he'd just tug some tail hair or grind a bit of horn powder.

"I recall Unicorns replace their horns periodically?" Bai Lang muttered, but that might mean dealing with centaurs. Yet all this could be solved with Dio—after all, Dio should be a Magical Creature too; I wonder if any of its hair can be sold for money? Bai Lang decided that next time he goes to Diagon Alley or Hogsmeade he'll bring a few strands of Dio's mane and some powder ground from its horn for appraisal. "Maybe ask Hermione to appraise them?" Bai Lang thought.

At the Halloween banquet, Harry's mood improved, and Bai Lang found Hermione. "Hermione, could you do me a favor?" he asked. Hermione looked at Bai Lang while Ron Weasley and Harry watched. "Help me appraise the magical effects of Dio's mane and horn powder," Bai Lang said. Hermione gave him a sharp look, hugging the plump Crumple‑horn cat in her arms, "You want to pull Dio's mane? That's cruel."

Bai Lang was taken aback, "Dio has so much mane; if you cut it off it will grow back. And Dio eats a lot; I want to find a way for it to purchase its own food." With that explanation, Hermione agreed. "You mean it needs to eat a whole cow each week?" Ron Weasley and Harry's attention was elsewhere.

In any case, everyone ate happily at the banquet and the performances were fine. But on the way back, Professors Dumbledore and McGonagall arrived with stern faces. Bai Lang saw a crowd gathered at the common‑room door; when the Headmaster and professor entered, Bai Lang realized the portrait of the plump lady had been torn apart, the image apparently having fled. A Peepee Ghost floated nearby, emitting a low chuckle—yet McGonagall and Dumbledore still needed to ask the Peepee Ghost what had happened before finding the plump lady.

The final answer was that Sirius Black had been there…

The result was that all the students from every house had to sleep in the Great Hall that night.

Bai Lang fell asleep early; he knew the story, so he was the most carefree of those present. The next day the Gryffindor portrait was changed to a knight—this fellow was quite annoying, constantly shouting duels and changing commands, the kind that's hard to remember. Of course none of this mattered to Bai Lang—because when Sir Cadogan first challenged him to a duel, he almost smashed the portrait's knight into scrap metal, costing him a five‑point penalty.

But since then the knight no longer bothers him; whenever Bai Lang arrives, the knight nods in greeting and never asks for a command.

Besides training Neville Longbottom, Bai Lang slipped out of the school gates several times to provoke the Dementors. One reason for confronting Dementors was that Bai Lang wanted to see the progress of his Patronus Charm—this magic is said to test not spellcraft but one's own spirit. The yellow mist emanating from his wand grew thicker and denser, perhaps one day it will fully manifest.

"The Patronus is an animal; as far as I know it's basically the same as a person's Animagus—if you become an Animagus, your Patronus takes the form of that animal," Bai Lang muttered.

Harry became a high‑priority protection target; wherever he went, someone escorted him, which made Harry irritable and also complicated Bai Lang's night‑time wanderings—Gryffindor attracted far too much attention… and the weather kept worsening. Bai Lang had never seen a clear winter day in Scotland; rain mixed with snow and gale‑force winds made daytime skies indistinguishable from night, yet Gryffindor had to play in such weather—and Slytherin had given them a disadvantage, making them face Hufflepuff first.

For this Dark Arts Defense class, Severus Snape was substituting; Professor Lupin had an issue—Bai Lang knew he had to deal with the misfortune of turning into a werewolf tonight, but the other students didn't know and dared not speak up. Harry, unsurprisingly, was late and lost ten points, then complained about where Professor Lupin had gone—Bai Lang thought that was pointless, not that Snape had killed Lupin and was covering for him.

Sometimes Bai Lang also finds Harry Potter rather annoying…

"You're easily satisfied. Lupin hardly set any high demands for you—you should be able to handle Red Caps and Grindylows by first year. Today we'll discuss—werewolves," Snape said. "But, sir," Hermione interjected, unable to control herself, "we shouldn't be learning about werewolves yet; we should start learning about—"

"Miss Granger," Snape said, his tone dead‑flat, "it seems I'm the one teaching, not you. I tell you all, turn to page three hundred ninety‑four." He looked around again, "Everyone! Now!" Bai Lang quickly flipped to the werewolf chapter; he had no interest in opposing Snape.