Inside the pouch, along with the professional carving tools, were a dozen or so Galleons.
Naturally, this wasn't Hagrid giving Louis free money—these Galleons came from the sale of a large, worn-out piece of dragon hide that Louis had asked Hagrid to sell for him.
With the Volumen Hydrargyrum standing guard, the Ravenclaw Horcrux fragment of Voldemort had no chance to act up. Even in the wizarding world, mercury was a precious magical material, capable of blocking magical corrosion—on par with dragon hide.
But since the Volumen Hydrargyrum was a magical artifact born of the alternate power system known as [Magic], its resistance to magic was far greater than ordinary mercury. In short, the dragon hide was now redundant. Louis figured it was better to let Hagrid trade it in for some cash.
"I'll have to send Hagrid a thank-you gift later," Louis muttered as he weighed the Galleons. "Even though he doesn't care about helping others, attitude still matters."
He counted—seventeen Galleons. Not bad for an old, cracked piece of dragon hide. The low price was understandable: the hide was aged, and Hagrid wasn't exactly a born salesman.
Still, the hide had cost him nothing. Pure profit.
Back in his dorm, Louis began drafting the design for his Hermes statue.
Using a mechanical pencil he'd brought with him, he scribbled and sketched on parchment, occasionally outlining details with a quill. Before long, he had a finished concept sketch of Hermes.
Thanks to his practice with drawing, Louis's skills were pretty solid.
This image of Hermes was compiled from statues he'd seen in his previous life, mythological references, and his own interpretation.
The figure was muscular and well-proportioned, dressed in ancient Greek attire. A halo shaped like the infinity symbol floated above his head. His legs were powerful and clad in winged sandals suited for running. In one hand he held a caduceus—the double serpent staff—striking forward mid-stride.
This design was pieced together thanks to Louis's photographic memory, which allowed him to recall bits of imagery from his previous life. Without it, an eleven-year-old would hardly have the reference base to pull this off.
Hermes, also known as Hermes Trismegistus (Thrice-Great Hermes), was a god formed from a fusion of several mythologies.
He was said to be the guardian of Mercury, the god of commerce, debate, language, literature, information, trickery, and even thieves—his roles were countless.
Because of this complexity, Louis was worried the form of the statue might affect which "aspect" of Hermes would awaken through the Rat Talisman.
So he intentionally incorporated visual elements from "Classical Greek iconography" (original myth), "Occult symbolism" (Tarot and mysticism), and "The Caduceus" (representing alchemical yin-yang balance).
From the outside, the statue looked great. But as Louis examined the sketch more closely, his brows furrowed.
"…No good. Too risky." He mumbled as he crumpled the drawing and tossed it aside. He'd have to try again.
Hermes was a god—a fast, deceptive one at that. If the Rat Talisman brought him back with full mobility, Louis might end up giving himself a massive problem.
Magicians plan ahead. Preventing mishaps during a performance is standard, but when dealing with gods? Even more caution is required.
So—Hermes must not be given a body capable of movement.
Louis erased the body from the next version and drew only a head.
But now another problem arose: he couldn't capture Hermes' iconic traits with just a head. If he sculpted it as-is, it'd just be some random magical humanoid head—nothing to suggest Hermes, let alone features tied to alchemy or occult power.
To be revived by the Rat Talisman, a statue required clear and symbolic identity.
In the original series, besides the main villain Shendu, the Rat Talisman revived four other entities:
1. Luo Pei, a Terracotta Warrior—(whom the author insists is Liu Bei). Revived from a museum display.
2. Super Moose, a fictional cartoon character—a flying, talking moose.
3. Gnome Cop, another fictional character, later revived in an upgraded giant form.
4. Quetzalcoatl, the feathered serpent god—proof to Louis that deities could be revived, even if that one was kinda weak.
All four had distinctive symbolic appearances and were widely recognized. Their looks defined them.
So just saying he was carving Hermes meant nothing. If the statue lacked distinct traits that could be interpreted as "Hermes," the talisman wouldn't work.
A head wasn't enough. Louis tried a bust—no better. Without a full body, there was no visual identity.
"Looks like I need a little inspiration," Louis muttered, and reluctantly pulled out Sherlock Holmes' pipe.
He hated the feeling—smoking this always made him suffer for a few seconds before the Horse Talisman healed him.
Seriously, how did Holmes get addicted to this thing?
He lit the pipe and took a deep drag. He coughed hard, but a flood of inspiration rushed through his brain.
"Got it!" Eyes gleaming, Louis quickly healed himself with the Horse Talisman, then scrambled to pick up the original sketch he'd discarded.
(Designer to client: turns out they picked the first draft after all!)
Acting as both designer and client, Louis shook off all the weird ideas clouding his head and laid the original drawing flat again. It had all of Hermes' iconic features.
Then, with deliberate finality, he drew a sharp, decisive line across the neck.
Hermes had been beheaded.
"There. That should do it." Louis nodded with satisfaction.
If the full statue couldn't safely house Hermes, then he'd just sever the head and animate that part alone.
"Holmes' pipe never fails—pure genius," he said, folding up the approved design and checking the antique clock on the dorm wall.
"Almost time. Fafnir should be back soon."
Louis packed up the final sketch, tossed the unused ones, and got ready to leave the dorm.
Even though curfew was still in effect, none of his roommates stopped him. In fact… some looked relieved.
Finally, the living nightmare was gone—they could sleep peacefully tonight.
Louis had no idea what his roommates were thinking. He made his way to the rendezvous point.
Before he even arrived, he heard a chilling noise—like claws scraping against the stone floor. Eight claws. All at once.
In a shadowy corner, an Acromantula the size of a millstone was sprawled out, its eight hairy limbs scrabbling across the floor. Its eight eyes glinted in the dark, and its sharp mandibles ground together with a metallic hiss.
The moment it sensed Louis approaching, it froze. Instinct kicked in, and it slipped into hunting mode—completely forgetting about the feathered Fafnir perched casually on its back, grooming himself.
Fafnir had done brilliantly again. Not a scratch on him.
And the spider?
Even bigger than the one from this afternoon.
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