The Return to Hogwarts

“Answer my question, Miss Granger, or would you prefer Minerva to explain it to you?”

Upon hearing this, Hermione, already on edge, trembled even more. The situation was already bad enough; if Professor McGonagall found out, she simply couldn't face Gryffindor's dwindling hourglasses.

"My appearance is due to my misjudgment of my Transfiguration skills, Professor Snape."

Hermione lowered her head and stared intently at her toes, her voice trembling with tears.

For a fleeting moment, she was glad she now had black hair on her face; otherwise, she was certain her flushed cheeks would have given her lie away.

"I had studied 'Advanced Transfiguration' beforehand, thinking I could cast the transfiguration spells described in the book. I apologize for eavesdropping on your conversation with this gentleman—I mean, this sir."

I was in bed reading, researching how to heal my magical injuries faster, when the commotion outside caught my attention. I initially thought it was a secret chamber. You know, attacks make us Muggle-born wizards very nervous—”

Amosta noticed that Snape's face was ashen and his breathing was becoming increasingly heavy. If the little witch was allowed to continue making up stories, a tragedy was very likely to occur in the school hospital.

"No need for explanation, Miss Granger,"

In the underworld, Golden Viper is a cold, sharp, and murderous wizard who walks the line between right and wrong all year round. But when Amosta Blaine takes off his black robe, he is a very friendly and gentle person. It is hard to say which side is his true face and which side is a disguise. Perhaps, this is the most real Amosta Blaine.

Hermione, who was trying her best to make her words believable, looked up in a daze and saw a pair of very beautiful purple eyes and a gentle smile on a young and handsome face. She was momentarily stunned. For a moment, Hermione felt that the smile of the young wizard in front of her was somewhat similar to that of Headmaster Dumbledore.

Kind and tolerant, yet possessing the wisdom to see through the truth.

"I'm sorry, sir, what I said was..."

“My name is Amosta Blaine, you can call me Mr. Blaine,”

Amosta interrupted Hermione's explanation once again, smiling pleasantly.

“Whatever the reason you became like this, Miss Granger, I think you have already learned a painful lesson, so Professor Snape will not punish you anymore, right?”

Amosta looked at Snape, only to receive a disdainful snort in return.

"As for eavesdropping on our conversation, that's not a serious offense for a thirteen or fourteen-year-old wizard who's at an age full of curiosity. Professor Snape and I have both decided to let it go, so you don't need to worry too much."

In terms of prestige, Amosta was clearly no match for the long-established Snape. Although Mr. Blaine said he wouldn't mind her eavesdropping, Hermione still dared not relax. She kept a close eye on Snape, fearing that her Potions professor might raise objections.

Perhaps because of Amostella's pleas, or perhaps because of Dumbledore's instructions, Snape turned and left without saying another word, thus saving Gryffindor from the tragic fate of losing fifty points during the Christmas holidays.

"Well then, see you later, Miss Granger."

Amosta smiled slightly and turned to leave as well.

Hermione, still reeling from her near-death experience, was just beginning to realize that the mysterious man who called himself Blaine was about to leave the school hospital.

“Please wait a moment, sir… I mean, Mr. Blaine!”

Hermione instinctively called out, but when Amostella turned around with a surprised look, she realized what she had done.

"Mr. Blaine, are you a therapist?"

Hermione's face flushed red. She didn't know why she had called out to Blaine, but at this crucial moment, her quick wit once again saved her.

"I just overheard you and Professor Snape discussing Colin and Justin's conditions. Do you...do you have the ability to cure them?"

“I’m sorry, Miss Granger, I don’t have that ability.”

Amosta shook his head and said calmly,

“Since Headmaster Dumbledore already has a way to cure them, I think you don’t need to rush. After all, lying in bed is also a form of protection for them,”

Amos turned and left again, the voice continuing to reach Hermione's ears from behind the door.

"Also, Miss Granger, I am an investigator."

...........................

That night, Amosta spent the night in Snape's staff quarters. The two talked by candlelight, and he inquired in detail about the scenes of Snape's three attacks and how people discovered the victims.

Among them, Mrs. Lorris of Filch and the first witnesses to the attack on Finley were both Harry Potter.

Amosta wasn't surprised by this; after all, even if the protagonist stays home and doesn't go out, trouble will automatically come knocking.

To his surprise, Snape made a sarcastic remark about Harry Potter.

"You can tell what kind of person he is just by looking at Hermione Granger—a liar, mediocre, arrogant, a disobedient, attention-seeking, and insolent!"

A few feet away, Amosta, who was hunched over his desk writing and drawing, looked up in surprise.

“That’s really strange, Professor. Wizards who receive such praise from you are even rarer than those who receive your compliments. I’m starting to get a little curious about that boy.”

“You’ll see when you meet him, Amosta,”

Snape lay half-reclined on the bed, staring at the blazing fire in the fireplace, and said coldly, "His self-important, self-assured style is just like his father's!"

"what--"

Amosta flipped through the tattered "Ancient Simplified Theory of Spells" (by Yurik Gamp) in front of him, continuing to write equations on the parchment, occasionally waving his wand to create ripples in the air, trying to construct an effective spell model.

For the past two years, he has spent most of his time on the road, and he has had to squeeze out time to study and improve himself.

"I understand now, it turns out to be a grudge from the previous generation."

Amos didn't press Snape about what grudge he had against Potter's father, because he knew that everyone had a past they didn't want others to touch. Why force open someone else's wounds that had finally healed just for the sake of his own insignificant curiosity?

P.S.: It's not easy to write a new book, so please support me!

Chapter 9 Tracking

The gloom that had lingered for days finally dissipated on the first day of the new year. The rising sun shone on the snow-covered playground, casting a pale golden veil over Hogwarts Castle.

After preparing the necessary recovery potion for Hermione well in advance, Madam Pomfrey went downstairs to the Great Hall for breakfast. In the school hospital, only Harry and Ron were there with the dejected Hermione, and their expressions were far from pleasant after listening to Hermione recount her experiences the previous night.

"Professor Snape must know!"

Hermione covered her furry face with both hands, looking dejected.

“Professor Snape called out my name before the door opened. That shouldn’t be the case. No one except Madam Pomfrey knows my situation. Professor Snape is a Potions Master. He must know what the consequences would be if Polyjuice Potion were used to shapeshift animals. So, that means he knew I stole the materials from his storeroom.”

Harry stared blankly at the towering clubs on the playground. Today, he and Ron had planned to visit Hermione and then play Quidditch together on the playground, but now it seemed that the plan would undoubtedly be canceled.

Moreover, the good mood that had been brought about since the Christmas holidays, because no one in the castle was secretly gossiping about his Parsleyan voice or secretly accusing him of being the heir to Slytherin, was also quickly fading away. All of this stemmed from the young wizard named Amostella Blaine that Hermione had just told him about.

"Amosta Blaine, who claims to be an investigator."

Harry asked worriedly, "Hermione, what do you think Blaine is trying to investigate when he enters Hogwarts?"

"Is that even a question, Harry? What else in the school is worth investigating now?"

Harry and Ron didn't seem worried at all about being expelled because of this, which made the already upset little witch even more irritable.

Harry felt his stomach, which had been warm from the white rice porridge he had drunk that morning, cramp up from a strange chill. He had never heard of this name before, and apart from Mr. Weasley, he had never dealt with any wizards with official titles. But that did not stop him from feeling a heavy pressure when he heard the title 'Investigator'.

Because of Parsleyan, he has already become the subject of suspicion among the young wizards. If everyone finds out that an investigator has come to the school in the second semester, how much criticism will he have to bear?

Harry could almost picture Malfoy's repulsive face beaming with smug satisfaction; perhaps he would be the first to report him to the investigators.

"Why would the Ministry of Magic suddenly send an investigator into the school... I mean, Headmaster Dumbledore is in the school, and he's never mentioned it to me."

This reminded Harry of the night Justin was attacked, when he had a conversation with Headmaster Dumbledore in his office. At the time, for various reasons, especially fearing that Headmaster Dumbledore might mistakenly think he had some connection with the founder of Slytherin, he did not reveal Dobby's warnings or the terrible voices that preceded each attack.

Could it be that Headmaster Dumbledore was unhappy with his concealment, which is why he agreed to let the Ministry of Magic take over?

So, would the Ministry of Magic, to save trouble, listen to the rumors at school and just lock him up in the wizarding prison that Malfoy mentioned?

"Of course, Harry, it must be that old bat Snape who's behind this!"

Holding half a potato pie in his hand, Ron raised his freckled nose and swore firmly.

"Think about it, Harry, this Blaine is close to Snape; maybe he's a Slytherin graduate."

Ron started chewing his potato pancake again, analyzing it with a serious air.

"Who most wants to kick you out of this school? Without a doubt, it's Snape. I bet, Harry, this investigator was hired by Snape to do this..."

"Thank you, Ron. I feel much better after hearing your analysis."

Harry sat listlessly on the edge of the bed and said dejectedly.

"Stop talking nonsense, Ron."

Whatever the reason, since Snape didn't expose her directly last night, it seemed that she wouldn't be expelled from school for stealing the professor's money. Having figured this out, Hermione was slightly less nervous. She crossed her arms and glared fiercely at Ron.

“Even the Minister of Magic doesn’t have the right to expel a Hogwarts student arbitrarily, unless Headmaster Dumbledore approves. But Harry, Headmaster Dumbledore won’t expel you, right?”

Before that conversation, Harry might have been able to give a positive answer. He had always sensed that the old man with silver hair and beard treated him differently from the other young wizards, even though they had only spoken directly to each other very few times.

"Perhaps, Hermione,"

Harry hesitated before answering, “At least, Dumbledore told Hagrid that he didn’t think I attacked Colin and the others. He can’t just agree to expel me because I hid something from him.”

While Harry was still feeling uncertain, Ron, who had been refuted by Hermione, continued to mutter his own opinions. Suddenly, he frowned, looked at the pure white ceiling, and made a reminiscing expression.

"Amosta Bryan... I feel like I've heard that name somewhere before?"

This whispered murmur immediately jolted Harry awake.

“Ron, since this Brian claims to be an investigator, he must be Mr. Weasley’s colleague or something. Perhaps they have a good relationship. Maybe… you could write me a letter and ask, I mean, explain things in advance, before he finds me—”

Ron's parents, the Weasleys, were Harry's favorite wizards, and they were also very kind to him. The week he spent with the Weasleys last year was the most wonderful part of his summer vacation in all those years. If Mr. Weasley knew Amostella Brian, he certainly wouldn't refuse to help him defend himself.

Golden sunlight gradually climbed onto the golf clubs on the playground, and a gentle breeze wafted across the spacious grass, carrying with it a touch of vibrant spring.

“Of course, Harry, I can write a letter…”