Lily gently presented the Rune Disk and the companion Toolbook, her face alight with professional excitement. "Since this is a portable version, it doesn't house the heavy-duty crystals required for permanent storage or exhaustive testing," she explained.
"But for research, demonstration, and practicing complex layering, it is more than sufficient. You'll be able to work through any runic theory we've discussed. Do you approve of our choice?"
Anduin was battling an intense, internal conflict. Every logical principle dictated he should refuse such a costly and generous gift—it was too much to accept from them. Yet, the deep, analytical craving within him—the intellectual equivalent of the "it smells so good" principle he applied to powerful magical artifacts—overwhelmed his sense of propriety.
This device wasn't just a toy; it was a key to independent, high-level magical engineering. It allowed him to bypass his current lack of raw power by focusing on design and efficiency.
"It is... far more than I could have imagined," Anduin replied, his voice husky with genuine gratitude. He carefully took the Rune Disk and the Toolbook, the smooth, cold stone of the disk feeling strangely familiar. "I assure you, I will make full use of its capabilities. Thank you, Lily, James."
"There's no need for formality, Anduin," James chuckled, clapping him lightly on the shoulder. "Now, we can't have you miss the train. Time to get you back into the jaws of the beast."
And so, his peaceful, intellectually productive Christmas break drew to a close. The time spent with Sirius had been grounding, and the intellectual mentorship from the Potters had been invaluable. A brief farewell on the platform, and Anduin settled onto the scarlet Hogwarts Express.
He found Charles and Vivian in their usual compartment. Charles was eagerly devouring French pastries, remnants of Vivian's holiday abroad, while Vivian was meticulously organizing a deck of new French-made spell cards.
"Anduin, you're back!" Charles exclaimed, his eyes widening. He pulled Anduin into the seat across from him. "My aunt told me you were quite heroic during the holidays. She said you got involved in some high-stakes situation and were incredibly effective—"
Anduin met Charles's gaze, offering the barest flicker of a warning glance. Charles, whose natural enthusiasm often exceeded his discretion, immediately caught the signal and trailed off, suddenly fascinated by the patterns on the ceiling.
"Oh? High stakes, Charles?" Vivian asked, instantly narrowing her eyes at Anduin. She loved a good mystery, and Anduin's reluctance was like blood in the water. "What was Charles talking about? Was it just an exciting family holiday? Or did you finally manage to win some of that prize money you're always planning for?"
Anduin deflected smoothly, leaning back against the plush velvet seat. "A little of both, perhaps. Let's just say I stumbled into an opportunity involving some old, lucrative magical contracts that hadn't been settled. It was a messy affair, but profitable. Nothing exciting—just business, and hardly worth boasting about."
Vivian's gaze was sharp, dissecting his every word. "Contracts and messy affairs. Very Slytherin. And why did James Potter, of all people, need your assistance with a 'contract'?"
Charles, seized by an urgent need to escape Vivian's scrutiny and Anduin's dangerous secrets, fumbled for an excuse. "A friend from my college quidditch team said he'd save me a seat! I'll be back!" He practically vaulted out of the compartment.
"Hmph," Vivian huffed, thoroughly displeased by Anduin's evasiveness and Charles's retreat. She watched him flip casually open the Collection of Magic Symbols reference book. Conceding defeat for the moment, she launched into a detailed, dramatic monologue about the inferior quality of the French postal owls and the superior aesthetic of Parisian magical architecture.
The journey passed quickly, a familiar mix of tedious conversation and strategic snacking, until the train finally pulled into Hogsmeade Station.
Back in the cold, echoing familiarity of the Slytherin dungeons, Anduin immediately reorganized his focus. The temporary constraint on his raw magical output had forced an evolution in his training philosophy: he would now prioritize depth of knowledge and internal resilience over brute force spellcasting.
His daily schedule, already a marvel of organizational efficiency, was refined:
Morning (Charms & Transfiguration): A focused block dedicated to practicing existing Charms and Transfiguration spells. Since these required precision and technique more than overwhelming power, he could still make linear progress. He practiced the intricate wand movements for Unlocking Charms and the delicate, subtle intent required for color changes in Transfiguration.
Daytime Free Periods (The Rune Disk): His most intense academic work now centered on his Rune Disk. He would often find a secluded corner in the library, or the quiet confines of his room, and spend long hours studying the Toolbook, projecting the complex, stored three-dimensional runes into the air above the disk.
He practiced the Combination function incessantly, meticulously layering runes of Containment, Force Dissipation, and Duration to understand the foundational architecture of advanced Wards. This was the work of an alchemist—learning how to design magical effects with maximum efficiency and minimal magical drain.
Evening (Occlumency): Every night, before sleeping, he retreated to his mind. The thirty to forty minutes were dedicated solely to his internal practice. He pushed the boundaries of his mental control, striving for instantaneous deployment of the Sentinel—the cold, crystalline mental image that represented his perfect, analytical defense.
The progress was still astonishingly fast. After only a week, he could transition from thinking about Charms homework to the total, blank stillness of Occlumency in less than five seconds. This success affirmed his belief that his non-magical mental conditioning had created a profound academic talent bonus for mental magics. Once the shield was instinctive, Legilimency would surely follow.
The day after his return, the pull of his physique-strengthening goal, tied directly to his new Rune Disk work, was too strong to ignore.
After lunch, Anduin left the castle, trudging through the heavily snow-covered grounds toward the edge of the Forbidden Forest. He carried a small bag containing a lavish selection of spices and fine Muggle cooking oils, purchased specifically to enhance Hagrid's wild game.
Hagrid's hut was silent, the roof thick with snow. He let himself in, finding the interior empty, even Fang was missing. The silence was deep and peaceful. Anduin set about making himself at home. He lit a roaring fire in the massive hearth, using pine logs that crackled merrily, steadily driving the persistent winter chill from the small space.
He used the stove to boil water for tea. As he poured the steaming liquid, he noted that the immense, battered copper mug he had gifted Hagrid was indeed in use—its colossal capacity fitting the half-giant perfectly.
Sitting on the cushioned, soft fur seat Hagrid had given him, Anduin was engulfed in a sense of quietude. He sipped his tea, the scent of burning pine logs and damp earth filling the air. Lost in a volume of Runic Etching, he achieved a rare state of relaxed focus, forgetting the passage of time entirely until the distant, familiar barking of a large dog broke the spell.
It's getting dark, he realized, startled by the late hour.
The door burst open, showering the room with a flurry of snow and cold air. Hagrid lumbered in, carrying a burden that dwarfed even his massive frame.
"Anduin! Didn't expect you back so soon!" Hagrid bellowed, his face splitting into a wide grin. Fang, the boarhound, immediately spotted the familiar figure and, shedding any pretense of guard dog duty, bounded across the room to rub frantically against Anduin's legs.
"I got back yesterday. It's the weekend, and I needed to stock up," Anduin replied, standing up. "Where did you go? You've been out for ages."
Hagrid dropped his immense cargo onto the wooden table with a resounding thud that shook the hut. It was a mass of dark, muscular meat and bone, almost half the size of a small car.
"You're just in time for the best part!" Hagrid exclaimed, dusting snow and what looked suspiciously like large specks of silver off his body. "Professor Kettleburn had a bit of a mishap. One of his Re'em bulls—the big ones—passed away in the Forbidden Forest. He asked me for help with the carcass processing. Look at this magnificent piece the Professor gave me!"
Anduin approached the table for a closer inspection. It wasn't just a cut; it was a gigantic, intact leg section, complete with the hip and a portion of the flank—an intimidating slab of crimson meat that was easily the size of three normal cows combined.
"This is a Re'em bull?" Anduin asked, circling the huge piece. "How are animals this large allowed to roam the Forbidden Forest? How many creatures does Professor Kettleburn actively manage in there? He seems to run an entire magical ranch."
Hagrid pulled off his thick coat, grabbing his copper mug to fill it with the tea Anduin had brewed. "Ah, Kettleburn's got a proper knack for it. He's got colonies of all sorts in protected zones—Thestrals, Unicorns, Hippogriffs, and then his personal stocks: Re'ems, Tephogs, and the like. He's got to manage 'em, else they cause chaos, or worse, get poached. Every year, we have to deal with escaped or injured creatures."
Hagrid took a huge, satisfying gulp of the tea before continuing, warming his hands around the mug. "The Professor has the right idea. He says conservation isn't just about protecting what's left; it's about breeding and restoring populations. Loads of creatures are endangered because their resources—their hide, their horns, their blood—are too valuable, and people over-harvest them. Kettleburn thinks that if you nurture and grow the population, you can sustainably harvest the resources."
Anduin nodded thoughtfully. This concept of sustainable magical resource management was surprisingly enlightened for the magical world.
"The Re'em is a prize, Anduin," Hagrid said, gesturing toward the enormous carcass. "It's a magnificent beast, but their blood is the primary ingredient in high-power Strength and Fortitude Potions. That's why they're poached so heavily. The meat itself has similar properties—it's incredibly rich and strengthening. This one was bigger than three normal cows put together. It took us half the day just to break down the carcass."
Anduin's mind immediately made the connection to his conversation with Lily. Magical strengthening food. To make the 'pipe' wide enough, he thought. His long-term dedication to physical training and consuming such potent, rich magical meat was indeed the most direct path to supporting high-volume spells like the Armor Charm.
"Well, that settles it, Hagrid," Anduin announced, pulling his bag of spices onto the table. "You're clearly exhausted, and this magnificent piece of beef shouldn't go to waste. I brought some special ingredients. I'm treating you to a Re'em Beef Hot Pot tonight—my recipe. It's the least I can do."