Harry glanced at Ron, who was still clutching his aching mouth in misery. In the end, he didn't dare test his own teeth against the rock-hard cake. Instead, he just swallowed nervously and watched Neville, Loren, and Hermione eating theirs with surprising ease.
In truth, the rock cakes were only hard on the outside; the filling within was actually rather good. Through magical sight, they glowed faintly—much like Loren's radiant dishes.
Neville managed because of his recent training—his body craved more nutrients, and his instincts pushed him to chew slowly, grinding the hard crust bit by bit. With the aid of the automatic training suit, every small movement of his body became exercise, even if he barely noticed it. But the result was clear: his appetite had soared, surpassing Ron's by a wide margin.
Hermione, on the other hand, relied on Loren's method: wrapping her teeth with an external layer of magic. With magically reinforced teeth, she bit through the cakes with no trouble at all.
*Feels like I'm turning magic release into Armament Haki…* Loren thought with a fleeting grin.
As for himself, Loren simply crunched straight through—the hardness barely registered.
…
After the rock cake incident, Hagrid shifted the conversation toward Ron's brother Charlie and his work with magical creatures. Loren took the chance to steer the discussion toward the Forbidden Forest's creatures instead.
Hagrid brightened at the subject, letting Ron off the hook, and began chatting animatedly with Loren. Hermione chimed in now and then, asking detailed questions about animal habits.
When the mood was at its peak, Loren casually asked if Hagrid had spare materials from magical beasts. Hagrid, delighted, admitted he had plenty in his hut and told Loren to take whatever he needed.
Loren gratefully accepted, filling his pockets with valuable parts—including two unicorn horns. In return, he promised Hagrid a surprise for Christmas. In his mind, he was already planning: a Newt Scamander-style suitcase, made extra large so Hagrid could keep more of his beloved dragons inside.
Harry, meanwhile, stumbled across the news of the Gringotts break-in while browsing Hagrid's papers. The discovery fit too neatly into Dumbledore's patterns—almost as if the headmaster had meant for Harry to notice. Harry remembered the events before school began and asked Hagrid directly. But Hagrid dodged, feigning ignorance.
When the five finally left the hut, each carried something different: Neville lugged a sack stuffed with rock cakes (a gift from Hagrid just for him), while the others discreetly slipped their own cakes into Neville's bag the moment they were out of sight. Ron, however, kept one particularly brutal cake aside—not to eat, but as a potential weapon to lob at Draco Malfoy in their next quarrel.
Loren and Hermione walked away with treasures aplenty, while Harry left with a heavy heart. The confirmation of his father's bullying past wounded him deeply. More than ever, he dreaded facing Snape in class. Thoughts of the Gringotts break-in barely brushed his mind.
…
With no classes that evening and Saturday marking the first weekend of term, the Gryffindor common room buzzed with energy. A grand party was in the works, masterminded by the Weasley twins. Officially, it was a celebration of the "Lion King's" defiance of the "Old Bat." In truth, it was just an excuse for revelry.
Every Gryffindor pitched in to decorate. Fred and George bore the hardest job—hauling food and drink from the kitchens trip after trip until they were red in the face.
That was when Loren simply called, "Dot." A house-elf appeared instantly. With a few quiet instructions, food and drink began arriving in waves, saving the twins endless trips.
"Long live the Lion King!" the Weasley brothers cried in relief.
The cheer spread like wildfire. Soon the whole common room echoed with chants of *"Lion King! Lion King!"* and laughter. Music and dancing filled the night until well past midnight. Loren, however, slipped away early to sleep.
…
Saturday dawned.
At five sharp, Loren rose, and Neville dragged himself up too. Though both had stayed up late, Loren's enchanted pillow provided deep, efficient rest—three hours were enough for full recovery.
After their morning training, Loren invited Neville to help him improve the automatic training suit. Hermione, uninterested in alchemy, decided to spend the morning in the library.
For the first time at Hogwarts, she and Loren split paths. She carried her books off to the shelves, while Loren and Neville headed for the abandoned Potions classroom.
There, Loren unpacked one alchemical device after another, setting up his workspace. With everything ready, he began modifying the suit.
The automatic training suit already functioned like a mature piece of enchanted technology, built on a platform system. The suit itself was the "hardware," while added combat routines or magical exercises worked like "software."
Within hours, he finished upgrading it. Neville donned the suit and threw a magically guided punch at Loren. Loren parried with controlled strength, and the two sparred until Neville collapsed, spent.
Then the suit activated a recovery spell—*"Rennervate!"*—drawing on Neville's magic. Within minutes, he was back on his feet, albeit ravenous. A bottle of nutrient potion solved the hunger, but Loren knew this energy-absorption issue still needed fixing. Perhaps nutrition potions in the short term… and advanced magical brews later.
Once satisfied with the improvements, Neville excused himself. Loren stayed, immersed in alchemical tinkering—refilling his stock of nutrient potions and chasing new ideas. He even added a bed to the room, turning the "abandoned" classroom into a personal laboratory. Meals arrived via house-elf, and only Hermione's firm hand dragged him back to the common room before curfew.
…
Sunday morning training went as usual. Loren checked Neville's feedback carefully—everything was sound. He then fitted Hermione with her own upgraded suit.
The newest model was tailor-made for her: daily training, automatic cleansing, energy restoration, and an optional active mode. Perfect for someone who lacked physical conditioning but still needed balanced growth.
After breakfast, Loren led Hermione to the Room of Requirement. Today, he would teach her his unique method of potion-making.
At the tapestry of the troll beating Barnabas the Barmy, Loren demonstrated how to summon the room: pacing three times before the wall while focusing on the need for a potion-brewing chamber. A seamless door appeared, opening to reveal exactly what they needed.
Hermione wasn't even surprised anymore. Loren's strange secrets had become familiar to her.
Inside, he explained.
Most wizards brewed by following rigid instructions—carefully preparing ingredients and coaxing them to react under set conditions. Potion masters like Snape refined the process through endless practice, altering recipes with their personal insight to achieve optimal results.
Loren, however, had discovered a different path.
With his magical sight, he could *see* the reactions directly, the precise interplay of substances. And with his gift for external magic release, he could guide the reaction cleanly, bypassing the clumsy rituals of stirring, slicing, and timing.
The result was pure, potent potions, free of excess impurities. Unlike Snape's brews—strong but foul-tasting—Loren's were powerful and surprisingly palatable.
Under his guidance, Hermione learned quickly. Her magical aptitude mirrored Loren's own, though her control was still weaker. With her enchanted spectacles granting magical sight, however, she could already match Snape's level of precision.
As for Loren, with his "cheats," brewing had become almost effortless.
…
By the time the weekend ended, Loren had fallen into his rhythm again. He was, after all, a creature of habit. Unless something disrupted his life or introduced something new, his days would flow in steady, predictable patterns.
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