Chapter 136: The Origin of Puffskeins

To Harry, "reversing the polarity" was a concept nearly impossible to understand scientifically. He could only assume it was some kind of spell that redirected events into their complete opposite. As for exactly what spell Neville had used—whether it involved time streams or something else—Harry decided that since it didn't significantly affect their lives, there was no need to rush into understanding it.

"Alright, Doctor," Harry said. "Let's continue our journey."

"Of course, of course," the Doctor said slowly, returning to the console.

"Neville's Hyperchrono seems to drain him badly—he needs a long rest," the Doctor adjusted the lever. "His next casting will be… December twenty-seventh."

"Why do you think he's drained so much?" Harry asked. "He looked fine to me…"

"Oh, child," the Doctor grinned slyly. "If you learned a spell that lets you travel to the past, would you really use it only once a month?"

"Come to think of it, maybe you're right," Harry scratched his head. "Maybe this spell can only be cast once a month."

"Let me see—this time he went back to August thirty-first, the day before term starts, same location: the Forbidden Forest," the Doctor said. "What is he trying to do?"

After appearing in the Forbidden Forest, Neville cautiously scanned his surroundings, confirmed he wasn't seen, then quietly headed toward the castle.

After leaving the forest, Neville reached Hagrid's hut, where Buckbeak the hippogriff was snorting in the vegetable patch by the door.

"Hmph," Neville shot it a hostile glance, then stepped forward and knocked on Hagrid's door.

"Neville, why are you here so early?" Hagrid exclaimed, flustered with delight. "I was just—no, I mean, I've been overjoyed these past two days."

"Early?" Neville froze, alert. "What date is it today?"

"August thirty-first. Term doesn't start until tomorrow," Hagrid said. "I should tell you—just recently, Dumbledore came to my hut…"

"Oh no, how rude of me—I can't leave you standing at the door!" Hagrid cheerfully opened the door. Harry, cloaked in his invisibility cloak, crouched on the windowsill. Hagrid rarely closed his windows, giving Harry a perfect chance to eavesdrop.

"Did you misremember the date, which is why you came so early?" Hagrid asked, pouring tea.

"Uh, yeah, I thought term had already started. I was wondering why there was no train," Neville lied.

"Ahahaha, that's fine—you can experience our first lesson!" Hagrid laughed heartily. "Oh, I forgot to tell you—I'll be teaching Care of Magical Creatures this term. Dumbledore came to my hut…"

Hagrid recounted at length how Dumbledore had informed him of his appointment as professor, and how thrilled he was. But in truth, the children had known Dumbledore's decision since last year. Neville merely nodded politely, nothing like Hagrid's own overwhelming shock and joy.

"By the way, Neville, why did you come to visit me? Curiosity about the course?"

"Actually, I just wanted to go as far back as possible and ask someone the date…" Neville mumbled, but Hagrid didn't hear a word.

"Come on, I knew it!" He pulled Neville outside. "No child could dislike Buckbeak. Here, you two should meet first."

Buckbeak stared haughtily at the sky.

"You said her name was… Mickbuck?" Neville couldn't quite catch Hagrid's pronunciation.

"Now try making eye contact—remember, don't blink. If you blink too much, you'll lose her trust," Hagrid continued, oblivious to Neville's confusion, describing the massive, fierce magical creature.

"Mmm… Makabaka?" Neville ventured. "Maka, Baka, Aka, Waka, Mika, Maka, mmm!"

"Now bow to her—yes, don't be afraid, right now, Neville," Hagrid shouted.

Neville's incoherent babbling, Hagrid's muffled shouts, and perhaps the tightness of the chain—Harry thought Buckbeak looked increasingly agitated.

"I don't really want to expose my neck to it," Neville hesitated, clearly recalling his past attack. "Maybe I should try again? Can it understand us?"

"Probably not. But the syllables you just made were interesting—I think they sound like what Buckbeak usually says," Hagrid suggested. "I think you should talk to her some more."

"Ikaaka… Ooooh!" Neville barely finished when Buckbeak angrily reared its front hooves.

"Maybe I should just give up. I think it just doesn't want to accept me," Neville stepped back two paces—he had no desire to provoke a giant horse in front of Hagrid.

"It's not hard—just bow to her, then gently tap her beak…" Hagrid stepped forward to demonstrate his unique communication technique.

Neville shrugged, indifferent, stepping aside—but Buckbeak kept staring at him, clearly displeased.

Hagrid patted Buckbeak's beak, then began stroking its feathers—but his grip was too forceful, and the creature was already annoyed.

It flapped its wings, shrieked sharply at Neville, then swung its claws. Hagrid had to leap back.

In that instant, Buckbeak charged at Neville. Hagrid could have stopped it easily—but Neville was faster.

"Hyperchrono!" He dodged instantly. Before Buckbeak could react, Neville vanished from the spot. The creature slammed into the fence, and Hagrid subdued it.

"Hmph. That was dangerously close," Neville offered neutrally. "I think everyone's still unprepared to tame such a large creature. Maybe we should start with something safer—like a Puffskein."

"True. Maybe Buckbeak isn't ready to meet everyone yet," Hagrid said, leading the dusty, muddy hippogriff back into the forest. The creature kept glancing back at Neville, clearly holding a grudge.

"I'll leave you then—time's almost up," Neville bid Hagrid farewell, then slowly walked toward the castle.

Around the corner, Neville's form began to fade—he was preparing to return to December twenty-seventh.

"I think I get it now," Harry said, watching the still-turbulent Buckbeak. "December Neville goes back to September, remembers being attacked by Buckbeak in November, and acts coldly—angering Buckbeak. September Buckbeak remembers that, and attacks November Neville in October."

"That's time," the Doctor marveled. "The old saying holds: they could've coexisted peacefully. But perhaps it was fate that Buckbeak had to attack someone."

"But it feels like Neville didn't really do anything this time. You can't seriously think he came here just to provoke Buckbeak?" Harry asked.

"Yes, that's exactly it," the Doctor gestured. "Did you hear what Neville said? He only wanted to go as far back as possible—he didn't even know where he'd end up."

"Since he himself didn't know, it's a random spell—the outcome is determined by time itself. Time sends him to fulfill his destiny…"

"Randomness is the domain of the divine," Harry said, forgetting where he'd heard it—but now it felt perfectly apt.

"Indeed. In a way, time itself is conscious—like a living god."

Harry found the idea unsettling. Even the TARDIS, the most advanced time machine, couldn't protect him from speaking of the forbidden Death.

"Let's go see what Neville does next," Harry hurried. "Maybe he's got some clever trick up his sleeve?"

"Of course. We note his next jump is January fourteenth—a Friday night. Smart—he can rest over the weekend," the Doctor pushed and pulled the levers. "And he chose to return to… October thirty-first. Halloween again?"

Harry pulled on his invisibility cloak and slipped out of the TARDIS. This time, Neville appeared beside him outside the castle. The grounds were silent—students and teachers were gathered in the Great Hall for dinner.

Neville headed toward the castle towers—he still meant to catch Sirius. Harry and the Doctor followed silently, slipping through the half-open door. Only then did Neville notice: dinner had clearly ended.

If dinner had ended, Sirius was probably gone. But as Harry glanced toward the Great Hall, a doubt surfaced in his mind.

He remembered: that night, everyone had slept in sleeping bags in the Great Hall. So why was it empty now?

A murmur of voices interrupted his thoughts—Ron's voice, then a girl's loud sobbing.

Neville's brow furrowed slightly, then he strode forward. Harry hurried after him. Ron had indeed been dealing with difficult girls this year: Lavender, who constantly clung to him, and Hermione, his friend who rarely spoke. If Ron was to be believed, she wasn't a bookworm—she was a stress-case…

"Grandma always said, a man must never do two things: waste food or make a girl cry," Neville said to the empty girls' bathroom. "Harry, I know you're here."

"Fine, but don't let her splash me," came a younger, slightly nasally voice as the invisibility cloak lifted.