Read my new story (CaveLeather)
Game of Thrones: The Sword King
Game of Thrones: From Deserter to Power
Game of Thrones: King of Harrenhal— Garth Greenhand Stat Panel
In the abandoned girls' bathroom on the second floor.
A cauldron was perched on a toilet seat, bubbling with dark brown froth.
Hermione was fully engrossed in adding shredded lacewing flies, her hair messy and her face smudged with soot.
"Isn't it ready yet?" Ron slumped in the adjacent stall, asking weakly as his stomach let out a loud rumble. "I feel like I'm going to faint from the fumes. And I'm so hungry... I think my stomach has started digesting itself."
"Patience, soldier."
A deep voice came from the doorway.
Harry and Ron jerked their heads up. No one was visible, but the door was pushed open. Immediately after, several tightly wrapped oil-paper parcels appeared out of thin air, as if held up by a ghost, and landed steadily on the dusty sink.
With a ripple of light and shadow, Rove removed the Invisibility Cloak, his form gradually appearing. He carefully folded the silvery-grey cloak.
"Supply line established." Rove handed the Invisibility Cloak back to Harry. "To get these in, I had to take the long way around, crossing the 'Dead Marshes' (the flooded corridor on the first floor) and the 'Orc Patrol Zone' (outside Filch's office)."
"Rove!" Ron cheered, sounding like he'd seen the Savior. He bounced off the toilet lid and lunged at the paper bags. "Thank Merlin! Thank Gandalf! What did you bring?"
"Hufflepuff Special Beef Sandwiches, double cheese and pickles. And fresh Rock Cakes... I mean, nut muffins." Rove opened the bags, and the rich aroma of food exploded instantly, miraculously overpowering the smell of dead rats from the cauldron. "An army marches on its stomach. Basic rule of war. An army can't win battles on an empty stomach."
Harry came over too, grabbing a sandwich and wolfing it down. "Without you, Rove, we'd starve to death here before turning into Crabbe and Goyle. Or get preserved like salted fish by these potion fumes."
"This is just a small part of logistics support." Rove leaned against the sink. "In this cave full of toxic gas and curses, maintaining physical strength is key to survival."
Hermione finally looked up from the cauldron, taking a warm bottle of pumpkin juice Rove offered and drinking a large gulp gratefully. "Thanks, Rove. Although you make this place sound like a dungeon, it really helps. And... your descriptions make this disgusting potion sound a little more bearable."
"It is a dungeon." Rove pointed at the constantly dripping ceiling. "And there's a deeply resentful earthbound spirit watching us. Standard opening for any horror story."
As if to confirm his words, a shrill, neurotic giggle suddenly sounded by Rove's ear.
"Hehe... you're here again, the boy with the frying pan. Are you here to see how I cry?"
Moaning Myrtle emerged from the cistern behind Rove, splashing water everywhere. Her translucent body floated in the air as she adjusted her bottle-thick glasses. Surprisingly, however, she didn't throw a tantrum or scream as usual but looked at Rove coyly.
"That... that paper flower you gave me last time, I liked it very much." Myrtle fiddled with her pigtails bashfully, her voice becoming thin as a mosquito's. "Even though it fell apart when it got wet, I hid it in the U-bend. You're the first person to give me anything... since I died."
Harry and Ron looked at Rove in horror, forgetting to chew their sandwiches.
"You gave her flowers?" Ron's eyes widened, as if watching Voldemort doing ballet. "To Myrtle? The crybaby who floods the place?"
"That was part of the [Requiem Ritual]." Rove explained with a straight face, while pulling a gold candy wrapper from his pocket. His fingers flew, and within seconds, he folded it into an exquisite paper crane. "For wraiths lingering due to unnatural deaths, regular mental soothing is mandatory, or they will go berserk from accumulated resentment and turn into terrible banshees."
He placed the golden paper crane gently on the edge of the cistern, then performed a complicated Middle-earth prayer gesture.
"May your soul find peace in the Halls of Mandos, my Lady. May starlight illuminate your gloomy cistern."
Myrtle covered her mouth, moved, tears welling up behind her thick glasses.
"Oh, no one has ever been this nice to me..." Myrtle sobbed, spinning excitedly in the air. "Everyone calls me 'Ugly Myrtle', 'Moaning Myrtle', only you... you call me Lady... and you give me golden cranes..."
She suddenly swooped down, arms open, seemingly wanting to give Rove a passionate hug.
Rove's pupils constricted slightly.
> [Warning: Ghost Unit Charge]
> [Type: Mental Attack / Frost Damage]
> [Suggestion: Evade]
But he took a half-step back, maintaining a perfect gentlemanly distance, hand on his chest.
"Keep your distance, my Lady."
"The boundary between the living and the dead must not be crossed. This is the law of nature. If we touch, the cold will harm me, and my warmth will burn you."
Myrtle stopped in mid-air, inches from Rove's nose. She stared at him obsessively, seemingly entranced by these words.
"You're so strange... you talk like a bard." She giggled, the sound echoing off the tiled walls. "But I like it. Alright, I won't touch you. As long as you bring me more origami next time."
With that, she let out a string of laughter and dived back into the toilet, splashing a huge wave of water that nearly soaked Ron like a drowned rat.
Hermione watched all this dumbfounded, nearly dropping her stirring rod into the cauldron.
"Unbelievable." Hermione shook her head, looking at Rove as if he were a magical creature. "You actually... tamed Myrtle? She usually doesn't even spare Harry; last time she tried to peek at him in the bath..."
"Not tamed, diplomacy." Rove said calmly. "To establish a base behind enemy lines, one must cultivate good relations with the local natives. This is Ranger survival wisdom. Sometimes, a compliment works better than ten Banishing Charms."
Just then, the system settlement interface popped up before Rove's eyes, golden text flashing:
> [Logistics Mission Complete: Day 12]
> [Stronghold Maintenance Successful]
> [Diplomatic Check: Critical Success]
> [Myrtle's Affinity changed from 'Neutral' to 'Friendly']
> [Hidden BUFF Acquired: Wraith's Sanctuary (Probability of Filch discovering you in this bathroom reduced by 50%)]
> [Skill Upgrade: Team Logistics Lv2]
> [Effect: You are better at finding and distributing supplies in harsh environments. Teammate stamina recovery speed +10%, Food Tastiness Check +1.]
"Right, today's supply mission complete."
Rove glanced at the system time and adjusted his collar. "I must return. If I disappear outside for too long, Professor Sprout will think I've been snatched by trolls, or kidnapped by spiders in the Forbidden Forest to be a bandit queen."
He walked to the door, hand on the handle, and looked back at the bubbling cauldron and his three exhausted but determined companions around it.
"Hold on for another week, Hermione." A look of anticipation flashed in Rove's eyes. "The moment the potion is complete is when we launch our counterattack on Isengard (the Slytherin dungeons). Then, we'll show Saruman that Hobbits are not to be trifled with."
Hermione looked at him, smiled helplessly, but her eyes held a sense of reassurance.
"Understood, Commander." She said softly, picking up the stirring rod again. "Go quickly, don't get caught by Filch. The toilets here are still clogged."