Mid-October at Hogwarts. The chill of autumn was deepening.
Ever since the night of the "Escape from Carcharoth," Harry, Ron, and Hermione had developed a strange, unspoken camaraderie. Hermione no longer bossed them around, though the way she looked at Rove was always filled with conflict: He might be reliable, but it's impossible for him to be reliable!
Morning. The Great Hall.
Hundreds of owls surged into the dining hall like a gray storm.
> [WARNING: Aerial Unit Approaching!]
> [Identification: Friendly Messengers (Albatrosses / Great Eagles)]
Hedwig, the snowy owl, landed in front of Harry carrying a long, thin package.
At the same time, Rove's owl, Crebain—looking somewhat exhausted—dropped a heavy cardboard box next to Rove's plate.
"What's this?" Harry stared at the long package in surprise.
Rove looked up.
His pupils instantly contracted.
> [Legendary Mount Discovered!]
> [Name: Shadowfax]
> [Race: Mearas — Lord of All Horses]
> [Attributes: Speed SSS / Loyalty SSS / Spirituality SSS]
> [Description: Even in the darkest night, its coat shines like silver. It is Gandalf's steed, and only the noblest of knights can ride it.]
In Rove's vision, the object in front of Harry wasn't a broomstick at all.
It was a miniature divine steed, radiating holy silver light. It had streamlined muscles and a mane that flowed like liquid moonlight. It pawed restlessly at the Great Hall's table, emitting a whinny that only the Chosen One could hear.
"Open it, Harry." Rove's voice trembled with excitement. "Don't keep him waiting."
Harry tore open the packaging.
A Nimbus 2000 rolled out.
It was the fastest broomstick currently available. The mahogany handle was smooth as jade, and the twigs at the tail were perfectly trimmed.
"Whoa," Ron gasped. "A Nimbus 2000! I've never even touched one!"
"Only the noblest of knights is worthy of such a mount." Rove looked at the broom (divine horse) with awe in his eyes. "Harry, you truly are the Chosen One. He is a descendant of the Mearas; he will carry you through the Shadow of Death, running faster than the wind."
Harry stroked the handle. Although he didn't know what a "Mearas" was, he could feel the magic in the broom.
"Thanks, Rove," Harry said, a bit embarrassed. "Professor McGonagall sent it."
"Naturally." Rove nodded. "She is the Queen of Lothlórien; she knows when to bestow a sword upon a hero."
Just then, Malfoy and his two lackeys walked over.
He spotted the Nimbus 2000 instantly, his face twisting with greed and jealousy.
"What are you doing, Potter?" Malfoy grabbed the broom. "First years aren't allowed broomsticks. I'm telling a professor!"
Rove put down his knife and fork.
His eyes changed.
> [Hostile Unit Detected: Corrupted Elf]
> [Status: Greedy / Provoking]
"Let go of that horse," Rove said coldly.
Malfoy froze for a second. "What did you say? You..."
"Put it back." Rove's fingers rested on the handle of his table knife. "Unless you want to experience the methods of a Gondor Ranger."
Malfoy felt a chill run down his spine as he met Rove's gaze. It was terrifying. He felt that if he dared to take the Nimbus 2000, Rove would actually stab him with that knife.
Suddenly, Professor Flitwick bustled over.
"Oh, isn't this Harry?" Flitwick broke the tension. "Is this the...?"
"Yes, Professor," Harry said.
"A Nimbus 2000!" Flitwick squeaked in admiration. "Professor McGonagall told me about this. What a magnificent broom!"
The confrontation interrupted, Malfoy glared viciously at Harry, then dropped the broom and slunk away with Crabbe and Goyle.
"He envies you, Harry." Rove watched Malfoy retreat. "But he is unworthy. Shadowfax would only buck a man like that to his death."
Seeing Malfoy gone, Rove turned his attention to his own package.
He sliced open the cardboard box. Inside were dozens of neatly stacked silver packages, along with a row of gleaming table knives.
"What's this?" Ron leaned over curiously. "Food?"
"These are strategic supplies." Rove picked up a packet with a solemn expression.
> [Item Acquired: Lembas Bread]
> [Type: Consumable / Legendary Food]
> [Origin: Rivendell / Lothlórien]
> [Effect: One small bite is enough to sustain a grown man for a whole day of long labor. Restores stamina, boosts morale.]
Of course, in reality, these were high-calorie military-grade compressed biscuits Rove had mail-ordered. They were hard as rocks but packed incredible energy.
"This is Lembas." Rove tore open a package, broke off a piece, handed it to Harry, and gave another piece to Ron. "Elven Waybread. Eat sparingly. On the road to Mordor, this will be our only sustenance."
Harry took the gray-white hard block and took a bite.
Cough! Cough! Cough!
Harry nearly choked to death. It was incredibly dry and had almost no flavor, like chewing on sweetened plaster.
"Water... water..." Harry thumped his chest desperately.
"This is what Elven food tastes like?" Ron looked at the biscuit in his hand with a look of existential doubt. "I think I prefer Hagrid's rock cakes."
"That is because you lack appreciation." Rove took a bite himself and chewed without changing expression. "This is the taste of survival. The taste of discipline."
Aside from the biscuits, Rove also took out the row of table knives.
He picked one up and twirled it on his fingertip. Perfect balance.
> [Weapon Acquired: Noldor Throwing Knife]
> [Quantity: 6]
> [Attributes: Sharpness B / Throwing Correction +1]
"What do you need so many knives for?" Hermione, passing by the long table, couldn't help but ask.
"Peeling apples," Rove lied smoothly. "And self-defense. You never know when a Troll might jump out, or a three-headed dog might get hungry for meat."
Hermione's face paled slightly. She remembered the encounter from that night.
"Fine," she whispered. "But don't go throwing them in the corridors. Filch has been cracking down lately."
"Relax." Rove slotted the knives one by one into a custom-made belt hidden under his robes. "A Ranger never misses."
Then, he shouldered the box of "Lembas" and patted Harry on the shoulder.
"Go, Harry. Go test your Shadowfax. I must go to the training grounds to practice my throwing."
With that, Rove strode out of the Great Hall carrying his "Elven rations" and "throwing knives."
Harry looked at the Nimbus 2000 in his hand, tasting the strange biscuit crumbs still in his mouth, but feeling a warmth in his heart.
Regardless of everything else, having a friend who treated him like the "Chosen One" didn't feel half bad.