Bandits...
A group of bandits...
Looking at the kebabs in his arms, now almost half gone, William's mouth twitched slightly—
He decided he'd never again bring food into the Hufflepuff common room. These badgers usually seemed gentle, but the moment they smelled food, they became more boisterous than one another. Anyone who had spoken to him even a little over the past few days came over to grab some.
But you can't blame them. In Great Britain, where food culture is completely lacking—where a famous restaurant is French, and the best dishes are often Indian—such aromas, created from a pile of spices, are indeed hard to resist. Unlike the Ravenclaws who hide in their towers, these badgers aren't shy about helping themselves to William's snacks.
Especially Cedric...
"Cough, cough, a bit spicy—"
While coughing, Cedric completely cleaned the meat from the skewer with his teeth, "Uh—" he licked his lips in longing, his gaze unconsciously drifting back to the now-empty paper bag in William's hand—
"...Go to the kitchen and find an Elf named Ruck."
Knocking Cedric's hand away as he reached for the bag again, William said grumpily. He was usually kind to others and didn't mind sharing, as long as his own needs were met. Whatever was left should be enough now; as for the skewers taken by the badgers—
Uh... hopefully, some "big doggie" won't be upset.
On his first trip to the dining hall, William discovered his recipes from over a hundred years ago had been lost, but that didn't stop him from writing a new one. After all, the House-Elves in Hogwarts' kitchen were always happy to help.
"Oh, alright." Cedric nodded regretfully, "By the way, about the Quidditch I mentioned earlier—"
"Not interested."
William shook his head, promptly refusing. In the three years he spent at Hogwarts, the Quidditch Cup was canceled twice by the most unpopular headmaster ever, Blake, so he naturally never joined a team, despite being a good flyer.
He was also never interested in the sport itself—
He preferred sneaking out at night to flick Gobstones at the Headmaster's Office windows rather than chasing a ball on the field.
"...That's a shame, you fly really well." Cedric shook his head, looking a bit disappointed, but he didn't dwell on it. After a brief chat, he and a few students made plans to head to the dining hall together.
William didn't linger either. He returned to his dormitory, where the room was empty, with only the bed on the far left neatly made. The wrinkle-free sheets made one suspect whether the person who owned the bed was obsessed with tidiness or if no one lived there at all.
Closing the dormitory door behind him, William quickly moved to the wall beside the bed. As he stood there, the once-blank wall began to transform, bricks turning out to reveal a simple red brick fireplace in front of William.
Warm yellow flames burned inside the fireplace as William picked up an iron box placed on it. Taking a handful of silver powder from within, he sprinkled it onto the flames. The next moment, green fire leaped up, and without hesitation, he stepped into the flames.
"Room of Requirement—"
A suffocating smell assaulted him, and the spinning dizziness made William close his eyes—but the sensation didn't last long. Soon, the world calmed, and William stepped out of the fireplace.
He opened his eyes, and the scene before him had completely changed. Warm sunlight streamed through the lattice windows on the ceiling, and the deep blue tiled floor added depth to the room. A large bookshelf reaching up to the ceiling exuded an ancient aura. In contrast to the dormitory, the fireplace here was intricately designed, with flames dancing warmly in orange-yellow tranquility.
This was the Room of Requirement, once William's "secret base."
A week ago, when William first returned, aside from the dust on the furniture and a missing House-Elf, it seemed like nothing had changed in over a hundred years. Everything preserved as it was before William's "time travel."
Thinking of this, the boy instinctively touched the necklace at his collar, and the broken golden Hourglass swayed gently.
Although on the surface William had been gone for a century, to him, it was merely over two months. The short summer had hardly made him feel estranged, and after a quick tidy-up, including covertly linking the fireplace to the Floo Network, he moved all his belongings here.
A hundred years have passed, and now it's a room solely for him, impossible for anyone to find without William's guidance.
But before William could reach the table to put down his paper bag, a shadow suddenly leaped off the banister, crashing straight into his arms—but with swift reflexes, William easily caught the "attacker" in his palm.
"...Ah, you little rascal, what have you found again?"
Weighing the Niffler in his hand, William scratched its tummy in amusement—it was bulging just as he expected. Without hesitation, he lifted the Niffler's pink paw and, under its innocent gaze—gave it a shake!
With a jingling clatter, numerous small, shiny trinkets fell to the floor.
"Alright, you've earned me five British pounds again—"
William placed the dizzy Niffler on the table and reached down to pick up the most noticeable Golden Galleon among the trinkets.
He had encountered this Niffler near the Forbidden Forest a couple of days ago. Thanks to his friendship buff with animals, he easily coaxed it back home. He initially left it on the grass that grew outside the Room of Requirement, but somehow, it found its way into the room again—
The Nifflers he had raised before didn't have such tricks. Could it be that Nifflers evolved over the century?
"Bang—"
At that moment, a loud crash suddenly echoed from not far away, followed by a hoarse growl. Though the words were indistinct, the voice clearly conveyed a foul mood.
William didn't mind. After cleaning the floor with magic, he grabbed the paper package and the Niffler from the table and walked towards the sound.
Turning past two cabinets and descending the stairs, he was met with the sight of a large stainless steel cage. The figure squatting at its center stared intently at William, restraining the urge to pounce, eyeing the unassuming stainless steel bars with apprehension.
Those bars had indeed caused him no small amount of trouble.
"Good afternoon, Mr. Greyback—"
William smiled, sitting back as a chair conveniently "grew" from the ground to catch him, "It seems you're in a fairly good mood today?"