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The Headmaster's Office.
This was Jane's umpteenth visit this term.
Even the gargoyle at the entrance recognized her now, giving her a friendly greeting.
"Sherbet Lemon."
Harry watched in amazement as she confidently spoke the password and took a seat with practiced ease.
Dumbledore rubbed his temples with an amused smile, transfiguring a kettle into a comfortable chair for Harry.
"Harry, I believe you now know who your enemy is."
Harry nodded, eagerly sharing everything he had discovered with Dumbledore - about Snape trying to get through the trapdoor, the jinxing at the Quidditch match, the small package Hagrid retrieved from the vault, Voldemort's intentions, and the reason for his parents' death... He desperately wanted to know the truth.
But Jane noticed he carefully omitted her involvement with the three-headed dog.
Dumbledore listened quietly, praising his observations.
"Well done, Harry. Voldemort exists in soul form—neither truly dead nor alive."
"But the complete truth," Dumbledore sighed, "is not yet ready to be told. I can only say your mother died to save you, leaving you with an eternal protection through love."
"As for Professor Snape, while he and your father despised each other, he owes your father a debt. He is indeed protecting you, make no mistake about that."
Harry struggled to process these words, still unable to make complete sense of it all.
When he tried to press further, Dumbledore changed the subject, turning to Jane with a smile:
"Perhaps you've heard of my friend—Nicolas Flamel, creator of the Philosopher's Stone."
"While you were unconscious, we discussed using it to retrieve your soul."
"To be honest, we weren't certain it would work, but thankfully it did. He would like to meet you during the summer holidays."
Jane agreed, as this elderly gentleman had saved her life after all.
She could sense Dumbledore's delight, his long eyebrows rising in pleasure.
...
The Christmas holidays ended quickly.
Jane soon realized the consequence of giving away too many beauty potions at once:
People could deduce who received her gifts by whose complexion had suddenly improved.
In the Great Hall.
Upon seeing her, Draco rolled his eyes dramatically and sniffed, mimicking Snape's tone with exaggerated sarcasm:
"I wonder how the gifts from the Malfoys could be so beneath the esteemed Miss Yu's standards."
"That she would deign to send merely one small bottle of beauty potion, not even enough for a month's use."
Jane had to admire how well he'd captured Professor Snape's essence.
Theodore, sitting beside him, glanced at them coolly and remarked: "You should see the lions' faces."
Draco looked where indicated and noticed Harry and Ron's notably lighter complexions.
He leaped from his chair, slamming his palm on the table in outrage:
"You actually—gave me—and Scarhead—and that red-headed weasel—the same gift!!"
Puffing up like a blowfish, he demanded Jane promise him another bottle of beauty potion, insisting on receiving more than Potter.
Exhausted by his pestering, Jane could only respond with noncommittal "mm-hmms."
But then Theodore chimed in: "I want one too."
She glared at Theodore—why was he stirring up trouble? Hadn't he disliked it last term?
But being naturally business-minded, she hatched a plan:
"This potion is expensive to make, and I craft each bottle personally."
"I only sent one bottle because I feared wasting them if you didn't like them."
"I could send more, but you'd need to help promote them."
Draco immediately agreed enthusiastically, promising he could make the potion famous throughout Slytherin in just one day, guaranteeing her profits beyond counting. Theodore gave her a resigned look but nodded silently in agreement.
The beauty potions quickly became popular throughout Slytherin, with Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs soon inquiring about purchase options.
Counting her hefty pile of Galleons, Jane beamed with satisfaction.
...
The Slytherin versus Gryffindor match soon resumed.
Before the game, Flint and his teammates insisted on seating Jane in the front row, with the captain promising they would not disappoint her expectations of a Slytherin victory.
Unfortunately, despite having seven Nimbus 2000s, the Slytherin team couldn't overcome the protagonist's plot armor. Harry, with reckless abandon, made a death-defying catch of the Golden Snitch, earning 150 points and instantly erasing Slytherin's slight lead.
Flint wept bitterly on the pitch, leaning on his broomstick. When he saw Jane approaching to console them, he wanted to dig a hole with his toes and bury his head in it.
The entire team was dejected, especially Draco.
He rarely felt such guilt and self-reproach, and losing to Potter made him question his very existence.
However, they later managed a narrow victory against Ravenclaw and thoroughly crushed Hufflepuff, which restored Draco's confidence and his characteristic swagger.
Gryffindor won the Quidditch Cup, with Slytherin taking second place.
Time flew, and the second term of first year was drawing to a close.
Throughout the entire second term, Jane had maintained an image of being "refined" and "well-behaved," rarely doing anything to warrant visits to the Headmaster's office, making Dumbledore quite uneasy and restless.
A quiet child must be plotting something.
Unfortunately, the wizarding world lacked the term "PPA" (Passive-Progressive Aggression), or he might have understood the source of his discomfort.
Late one night, the distinguished headmaster secretly summoned Snape to his office.
"Ah, Severus, nothing urgent—"
"Just wondering about Miss Yu's recent behavior—"
Snape's face darkened, irritated at having his sleep disturbed:
"She's doing splendidly, full of life and energy!"
"I have no doubt she was a Niffler in her past life, counting those cursed Galleons even during class!"
He wanted to ask if Dumbledore had eaten too many sweets to be unable to enjoy a single peaceful day:
"Thank Merlin she's stopped those foolish troll-like behaviors, giving her poor professor a break,"
"Though you seem to support such stupid actions, which I fail to comprehend."
He stormed out with a dramatic swish of his robes.
Dumbledore, his face caught in the draft, could only marvel at such impressive theatrics.