Chapter 63
After listening to Albert's account, Hermione was genuinely intrigued.
"Oh my, that's so pitiful. A soul so human-like forced to live like a wolf... It's clearly not his fault, yet he has to bear it all."
"It's not all that bad," Albert quickly interjected, seeing how Hermione was getting emotional over Wolf's miserable life. After all, considering how much the House elves were doing behind the scenes, the last thing he wanted was for Hermione to start a Society for the Protection of Werewolves prematurely.
"Even though life may be a bit dull for the horse riders, Mr. Wolf has clearly found his place among them. He doesn't like the life of a beast, but now he's mostly just... bored."
"Yes," Hermione said thoughtfully after Albert's explanation. After all, Harry had met a centaur last year, and through his account, Hermione had come to understand that they were gentle creatures. The only real issue was the communication barrier between them and other magical beings.
From Albert's tale, Hermione learned that he had promised Wolf he'd come speak with him when he had time. She asked if she could come along next time—with her cat, of course.
Believing there would be no danger, Albert nodded and agreed to her request.
Finally, Hermione pulled out a sandwich wrapped in newspaper and a bottle of pumpkin juice from her school bag and handed them to Albert.
"I figured you didn't have dinner tonight. I brought these for you."
"Thank you so much." Albert took the food and ate it eagerly. After all, he had spent the entire afternoon fighting in the Forbidden Forest—he was starving.
Once he finished eating, Albert returned to the dormitory and took his schoolbag with Hermione to study in the library.
The following days returned to their usual rhythm. Albert and Hermione even scheduled a few days to visit and chat with Wolf. In addition, Albert finally received his reward from the last battle: thirty full liters of venom from the Acromantula, more than thirty liters of its blood, and seven oversized bags full of its eight-eyed heads.
Firenze had brought all of it on horseback, using two large crates meant for transporting horses. As soon as he received the items, Albert stashed them directly into his spatial bag, which could hold an entire stadium's worth of goods. Fortunately, the bag also had preservation magic, so everything stayed fresh.
Originally, they could have collected much more from the thousands of slain Acromantulas. Unfortunately, the repeated explosions and fires during the battle had destroyed a lot of the remains.
Specifically, the Acromantula venom could only be harvested from those killed most recently. The toxin deteriorated quickly after the creature's death. That's one of the reasons why the venom was so expensive.
Of course, the whole incident also led Albert to temporarily postpone his plan to slay the Basilisk. After all, the chaotic battle with the giant spiders had revealed several weaknesses he hadn't noticed before.
But this delay wasn't necessarily a bad thing. The Basilisk was a cold-blooded creature. While it had magical resistance to hibernation, winter still made it sluggish. In a month or two, the colder weather would make it easier to hunt.
This time, he wouldn't go unprepared. Albert intended to spend the next few weeks crafting a new set of enchanted items using Acromantula shells and blood—spells specifically designed to heal his injuries during the fight with the Basilisk.
Thus, time passed slowly in preparation. By mid-October, the weather in Britain had turned cold, and living in an ancient castle made it even more uncomfortable.
This led to a wave of seasonal colds spreading through the student body. Magical resistance didn't offer much protection. Luckily, Albert had improved his physical condition through regular training and hadn't fallen ill that year. He could only watch as many students trudged into the hospital wing, their ears steaming from Madam Pomfrey's cold remedies.
Because of the constant rain, Albert often saw the muddy and exhausted members of the Gryffindor Quidditch team trudging in from outside. It was hard to practice under such conditions.
So, Albert developed a recipe for brown sugar and ginger tea. Then he asked the Weasley twins to sneak it to the house-elves in the kitchens during one of their nighttime adventures. The next day, a warm pot of ginger tea was waiting by the fireplace in the common room.
Thanks to that, far fewer people caught colds from the damp weather.
Though not many knew it was Albert's idea, it warmed his heart to see his fellow students spared from the flu.
Naturally, Madam Pomfrey was one of the first to notice. After all, it was the students who drank it, and when the house-elves asked her to review the recipe, she immediately recognized Albert's handwriting.
During a recent visit to the hospital wing, she had memorized it. After confirming the tea's remarkable effect in preventing colds, she summoned Albert to the infirmary to ask how he'd come up with it.
Thankfully, wizarding medicine still followed ancient Greek traditions of hot, cold, moist, and dry elements—aligning perfectly with the traditional Chinese medicine theories Albert had read about in old manhua during his previous life.
It must be said: most of Hogwarts' staff were elite in their own fields. While Madam Pomfrey could probably dismiss entire branches of second-rate magical medicine, she still took the time to study this unfamiliar technique seriously and even asked students like Albert to explain anything unclear.
Diligent and humble, with no shame in learning—no wonder Madam Pomfrey had earned her place as the school's healer. That mindset would make her a standout professional in any field.
One afternoon, Albert had just stepped out of the hospital wing and was heading back to the common room when he spotted Nearly Headless Nick, nervously holding a letter.
"Good day, Sir Nicholas. What brings you here?"
Nick looked anxious. "I received a reply from the Headless Hunt. I was hoping they'd accept me this time." He opened the envelope, but his hopeful expression quickly turned to disappointment.
"It's still... nearly half an inch," Nick muttered gloomily. "They don't want me."
Seeing how downcast Nick was, Albert decided to comfort him. After all, it was thanks to Nick that he'd been able to use the interactive room last time.
"Sir, if there's something bothering you, I'm happy to listen. Sometimes, it helps to talk things through."
Moved by the gesture, Nick said, "Oh, you're willing to listen to Nick's troubles? Thank you, truly!"
Following Albert, he drifted into a nearby empty storage room. Albert cleared away a few wooden crates and sat down on a small box, using a larger one as a table. Nick floated across from him, ready to talk.
As they settled in, Albert smiled. "I believe I've recently learned a bit of
magic that might just cheer you up."