The person is at Hogwarts, but the system is in Middle-earth!

Chapter 102 A Fateful Choice: This is Stealth, Do You Understand?

"Yes, white-robed wizard."

Rowe grinned, revealing a set of pearly white teeth, and was about to turn and leave, making a dashing silhouette. But he noticed that Harry was still standing there, his eyes fixed on the "holy sword" stained with black snake blood on the desk, looking somewhat dazed.

"What's wrong, Ringbearer?" Rowe stopped, his brow furrowing slightly. "Still worried about Sauron's whispers? Or is the allure of the Ring too strong?"

Harry looked up, pale-faced, his lips trembling slightly. "Love, and Professor... Riddle was right, I'm a lot like him. I can talk to snakes, and I also..." He glanced at the filthy Sorting Hat lying in the corner, his voice becoming hoarse, "The Sorting Hat also said I'd do great things in Slytherin. If I really am..."

The office fell silent instantly, with only the crackling of the fire in the fireplace.

Dumbledore's smile vanished, his azure eyes no longer sparkling with mischief, but becoming as deep as the sea. He sat back in his high-backed chair, crossed his arms on the table, and silently watched Harry.

"You do indeed possess many of Salazar Slytherin's qualities, Harry," Dumbledore said softly, his tone calm and objective. "Resourcefulness, unwavering will, and a certain disregard for rules."

Luo Wei raised an eyebrow.

[System translation in progress...]

[Key Plot Points: The Curse and Talent of Bloodlines]

[Analysis: "You bear the dark mark of Morgoth. Due to your prolonged contact with the One Ring (as a Horcrux), your soul has inevitably been tainted by shadow. It is an indelible scar, like the wound of Morgul on Frodo's shoulder."]

Harry lowered his head, his shoulders slumped, and he looked like he was about to cry. He felt like a monster, a potential Dark Lord in the making.

"But," Dumbledore changed the subject, raising his voice slightly, "that is precisely why your choice is so precious."

He stood up, walked to his desk, and picked up the silver sword. The rubies on the blade gleamed in the firelight.

"Mr. Rowe," Dumbledore looked at Rowe with a meaningful gaze, "you just said that this sword belongs here?"

“Of course.” Rowe shrugged, looking completely matter-of-fact. “It’s a sacred relic of Gondor, and only a true king can wield it. I’m just a ranger, Mithlandar, and I’m not in the line of succession to the Grand Master. And frankly, this thing is too conspicuous for stealth.”

Dumbledore smiled slightly, seemingly unfazed by the terms "Gondor" and "Grand Master," and perhaps even finding them quite fitting.

"Only a true Gryffindor," Dumbledore said, looking at Harry with unwavering conviction, "can pull this sword from the Sorting Hat when it is most needed."

[System Reset: King's Sword]

[Item Description: This sword does not recognize strength, but only bloodline and oath. Only the heir of Elandil, or someone with a similarly noble soul, can awaken its sharpness. You are not a king, but your courage has earned its approval.]

Looking at the sword, Luo Wei thought to himself: No wonder it was so easy to use just now. Was it because the system judged me as "Aragorn's meal replacement" for a moment? Or is it because my "Ranger" class comes with "Mastery of All Swords"?

"It is not what we are born, Harry," Dumbledore said, turning his gaze back to Harry, his eyes filled with love and wisdom, "but what we choose to become."

[Dialogue Reconstruction (Epic Version):]

"It wasn't us who chose our destiny, Harry; destiny chose us. We can't choose our birth, we can't choose our talents, we can't even choose what darkness we'll face. But we can choose how we face it when it comes. Even in the darkest hour, even the most insignificant hobbit can change the course of the future."

Harry was stunned. He looked at Dumbledore, then at Rowe beside him who had an expression that said, "I get it, I get it, it's the protagonist's halo." The gloom in his heart seemed to dissipate a little.

"Choose..." Harry murmured to himself, as if he had grasped something crucial.

“That’s right, a choice.” Rowe interjected, feeling he had to say something to show his “veteran ranger” status. “Like me, even though I’m born with superhuman strength and can kill an ogre with one punch, I still choose to be a low-key stealth stalker.”

Ron, who had been standing there in a daze, couldn't help but mutter under his breath, "You call that kind of rushing in and cutting everyone down 'stealth'? I saw you chasing spiders with a frying pan with my own eyes!"

"As long as no one sees you, that's stealth," Rowe replied confidently, even raising a finger and shaking it. "That's the wisdom of a ranger, Sam. If you take care of all the witnesses, who can say your stealth failed? That's called tactical stealth."

""

Dumbledore couldn't help but laugh out loud.

"That makes a lot of sense, Mr. Lowe." The old headmaster blinked, seemingly quite appreciative of the theory. "It seems we have some...things in common in our educational philosophies. Sometimes, to achieve a goal, the process can indeed be a little...flexible."

[Mission Completion: Final Chapter]

[Passed: Trial of the Soul]

You witnessed the prelude to the "Return of the King" and upheld the humility of a ranger (you didn't steal the Holy Sword, even though you desperately wanted to).

[Acquired Trait: Courage to Be Recognized]

[Trait Effect: Your reputation will be easier to raise among the Lawful Good alignment. Even if you behave strangely, people will tend to see you as a "trustworthy oddball" rather than a madman.]

"Alright," Dumbledore waved his hand. "Go and eat, children. I bet you're all starving. There will be a sumptuous feast tonight, and the elves in the kitchen have been keeping busy."

Luo Wei rubbed his stomach; he did feel a bit hungry. The fight earlier had been too intense, and he had exhausted a lot of energy.

"Come on, Ringbearer, and Sam too." Rowe patted Harry and Ron on the shoulder and pushed them outside. "To celebrate our survival in the Moria Mines, tonight I'm eating ten... I mean, ten chicken drumsticks. And a whole keg of butterbeer!"

The three of them left the office and walked down the spiral staircase.

By this time, the eastern sky was already tinged with the pale light of dawn. The morning at Hogwarts remained unchanged despite the harrowing events of the previous night; the sunlight still gently bathed the surface of the Black Lake, creating a shimmering, picturesque scene.

But in Loewy's eyes, it was the dawn of Middle-earth.

The Forbidden Forest in the distance was no longer gloomy, but full of mysterious vitality; the Quidditch pitch resembled an ancient arena; and that majestic castle was the indestructible Minas Tirith.

"Anyway," Lowe took a deep breath of the crisp morning air and said softly, "it's still a nice morning, isn't it?"

"Yes." Harry smiled, a smile he hadn't shown in a long time, a smile of relief after a heavy burden had been lifted. "It's a good morning."