November winds whipped across the Quidditch pitch. For Hogwarts students, today was the grand occasion of Gryffindor versus Slytherin!
Rove huddled in the corner of the Hufflepuff stands, a thick scarf wrapped around his neck. He was holding up a homemade binocular device—a "tactical telescope" constructed from two toilet paper rolls, a few lenses, and an excessive amount of duct tape. He had even drawn some impressive-looking runes on the outside of the tubes.
> [System Notification: Current Area Locked as [Aerial Combat Zone]. Enemy aerial unit concentration detected.]
"Wind speed north-northwest, force five," Rove muttered, adjusting the focus of his binoculars. "This isn't a sports match; this is a Nazgûl airstrike drill."
Through the lenses, fourteen players on broomsticks ascended into the sky. Under the System filter, the brooms transformed into black-winged, screeching Nightmares. Harry's Nimbus 2000, however, glowed with a divine silver light, labeled by the System as:
> [Target Confirmed: Shadowfax - Flight Mode.]
> [Status: Lord of Horses, Swift as the Wind.]
"If that's Shadowfax, does that make Harry Gandalf? No, Gandalf should be Headmaster Dumbledore; they look exactly the same!" Rove watched Harry's small figure weaving through the air, feeling slightly nervous. "I just hope he doesn't try to solo a Balrog like Gandalf always does."
The match was intense. Lee Jordan's commentary drifted in and out with the wind, but Rove tuned it out completely. His attention was fixed on the Slytherin stands—or more precisely, on the staff seating area.
Suddenly, disaster struck.
Harry's broom began to shudder violently, bucking like a frightened wild horse trying to throw its rider. A gasp went up from the crowd.
"What's happening?" Susan Bones, standing next to him, gripped the railing tightly. "Harry's broom is out of control!"
A blood-red warning box popped up on Rove's retina.
> [WARNING! High-Intensity Psychic Attack Detected!]
> [Source Coordinates: (34, 12, 8) — Staff Stand.]
> [Analysis: Saruman (Level: ???) is casting a [Jinx].]
Rove swung his binoculars, locking onto the staff stand. There, Severus Snape was staring unblinkingly at Harry, his lips moving rapidly as he muttered an incantation.
"I knew the System would mark Snape." Rove rolled his eyes internally. "I've read the books a dozen times—well, I watched the movies once—I won't be fooled by this filter!"
His gaze shifted slightly, moving past the bat-like Potions Master to land on a corner in the second row behind him.
There sat Professor Quirrell. Wrapped in his thick purple turban, his body trembling slightly. Rove could see clearly through the binoculars—Quirrell's eyes were fixed dead on Harry in the sky, his lips also moving feverishly.
> [Target Analysis: Gríma Wormtongue.]
> [Identity: Servant / Puppet.]
> [Status: Conducting a Dark Ritual to assist his Master.]
Just then, a bushy brown head entered his field of view. Hermione Granger was creeping toward the staff stand, bent low.
"Miss Granger is going for the assist again." Rove sighed. "In the original story, she set Snape's robes on fire and accidentally knocked Quirrell over, breaking the spell. But relying on an 'accident' is too risky. What if Snape is wearing fireproof robes today? Or what if Hermione gets caught before she gets there?"
As a prudent member of the "Fellowship," Rove never left things to luck.
"Let me add a little precision to this drama."
He pulled a heavy stone from his pocket.
This was a "pebble" he had carefully selected by the Black Lake. After three days of polishing, it was smooth, round, and weighed exactly 300 grams—the optimal throwing weight for his strength.
> [Skill Activated: Throwing Mastery (Hobbit Racial Trait)]
> [Current Correction: Wind Speed Compensation -15%, Gravity Drop +5%, Target Stationary.]
Rove didn't aim for Quirrell's head. Voldemort was parasitic under that turban; a headshot might trigger some horrific dark magic defense mechanism or force the noseless Dark Lord out prematurely.
His crosshairs locked onto the front-left leg of the wooden chair beneath Quirrell's butt.
"For the Shire. And so Hermione doesn't lose points."
Rove took a deep breath, tensed his arm muscles, engaged his core, and launched the stone like a cannonball.
The stone traced an almost invisible gray line through the air.
Meanwhile, beneath the staff stand.
Hermione was struggling to crawl through the gaps in the floorboards, clutching her wand tightly. She was nearing Snape's position, mentally reciting the incantation for Lacarnum Inflamari.
Just as she raised her wand to aim at the hem of Snape's cloak—
CRACK!
The sharp sound of snapping wood rang out, followed immediately by a terrified scream.
"AH!"
Professor Quirrell's chair leg suddenly gave way. He lost his balance and pitched violently forward and to the right. The fall was so sudden that he instinctively flailed his arms to grab onto something.
Unfortunately (or perhaps fortunately), what he grabbed was Snape's hair.
"Damn it!"
Snape grunted as he was yanked violently backward by Quirrell. The two of them tangled together like a knot of black seaweed and crashed heavily onto the floor.
Hermione was startled by the sudden crash and thud above her head. She choked back the half-spoken incantation, her wand tip only sputtering a tiny, awkward flame. Seeing Snape's gloomy face suddenly appear less than half a meter away from her (albeit horizontally), she nearly jumped out of her skin, shrank back into the shadows, and fled instantly!
In the sky, Harry's broom steadied immediately. With Quirrell's line of sight broken, the jinx was naturally lifted.
> [System Settlement: Enemy casting interrupted.]
> [Evaluation: A perfect "Decapitation" Strike (Physical). You routed the enemy lieutenant and caused chaos for the commander (Saruman).]
> [Reward: Accuracy +2.]
"Target down." Rove whistled from beneath the stands, quickly disassembling his binoculars and stuffing the parts back into his bag. "What do you call that? Long-range infantry support."
Harry seized the opportunity. He went into a steep dive, stood on his broom, and reached out. The next second, he tumbled off the broom, hit the ground, gagged, and spat the Golden Snitch into his hand.
"Harry Potter has caught the Snitch! Gryffindor wins!"
Thunderous cheers erupted from the stands.
The staff seating area was in chaos. Snape scrambled up from the floor in a sorry state, clutching his aching scalp and shoving Quirrell away viciously.
Hermione ran back to Ron, panting, a mix of confusion and relief on her face.
"Did you do it, Hermione?" Ron asked excitedly. "I saw Snape fall over!"
"I... I don't know." Hermione looked at her wand blankly. "I hadn't even finished the spell yet, and they just started fighting each other? Maybe Professor Quirrell fainted?"
From a distance, Rove heard this and couldn't help but smirk.
"Hidden merit and fame." He silently gave himself a thumbs-up in his heart. "That's the legendary 'Aura Kill,' Hermione. The enemy fell before you even struck."
In the System log, a line of text was glowing:
> [Achievement Unlocked: Double Kill. With just one stone!]