章 459: 0458 Busyness Begins
The pre-term faculty dinner at Hogwarts proceeded in a very harmonious and warm atmosphere. Bryan, despite his best efforts to maintain his usual composure, found himself caught up in the pleasant mood. Even the normally scowl faced Snape seemed to have relaxed slightly.
Everyone, including Bryan, had indulged in a fair amount of drink.
"My dears," Professor Trelawney slurred, "the Inner Eye sees... it sees... oh my, is the room spinning, or is it just me?"
With that, the eccentric professor toppled sideways off her chair, becoming the first person of the new academic year to require Madam Pomfrey's professional attention. And Madam Pomfrey who had wisely refrained from overindulging, quickly sprang into action.
"Really, Sybill," She tutted in exasperation as she helped the drunk Trelawney to her feet. "One might think you'd have foreseen this particular future."
Madam Pince hurried over to assist, her usual severe expression softened by concern for her colleague. Together, the two witches supported Trelawney between them, guiding her unsteady steps towards the grand doors of the Great Hall.
"Come along now, Sybill," Madam Pince's voice echoed in the hall. "A good Sobering Solution and a lie-down is what you need. You'll be right as rain in time for the students' arrival."
As the trio made their slightly awkward exit, the remaining staff members exchanged amused glances. Professor Flitwick's tiny form shook with suppressed giggles, while Hagrid's booming laugh echoed off the unenchanted ceiling.
In the midst of this good-natured chaos, Bryan's gaze was drawn to Professor Snape. Their eyes met for a while and it was clear that Snape wished to speak with Bryan privately.
Bryan nodded almost imperceptibly. However, before he could make a move to leave from the gathering, he felt a firm hand grasp his elbow. Turning, he found himself face-to-face with Professor McGonagall, her square spectacles glinting in the candlelight.
Professor McGonagall had undergone a remarkable transformation. The warmth and friendliness that had softened her features throughout the evening had vanished, replaced by the stern, no-nonsense demeanor. It was clear that, despite the late hour and the wine consumed, Professor McGonagall had shifted firmly into work mode.
"A word, if you please, Professor Watson," She said, her Scottish accent more pronounced than usual. Without waiting for a response, she began steering Bryan towards the exit, her grip on his arm brooking no argument.
From his seat at the head of the table, Dumbledore watched this interaction with twinkling eyes, a knowing smile hidden behind his impressive silver beard. He raised his goblet in a silent toast as Bryan threw a helpless glance over his shoulder, clearly realizing that whatever Professor McGonagall had in mind was not to be avoided.
As they climbed the grand staircase, Professor McGonagall maintained her resolute silence. Portraits lining the walls whispered and pointed as the two professors passed, clearly intrigued by this late-night procession. Sir Cadogan, the manic knight, attempted to challenge Bryan to a duel from his frame, but a stern look from Professor McGonagall sent him scurrying behind his pony.
Finally, as they reached the corridor leading to Professor McGonagall's office, she broke her silence with an exasperated exclamation:
"Only you, Bryan! Only you could manage this!"
Recognizing the signs of an impending lecture, Bryan adopted his most apologetic expression. Bryan obediently perched himself on a three-legged stool facing Professor McGonagall's imposing desk, his posture unconsciously mimicking that of a first-year student called in for a scolding. The comparison wasn't entirely inaccurate, given the look she was giving him.
The cool night air wafting through the newly opened window did little to dispel the flush of wine from their cheeks. Professor McGonagall busied herself with preparing tea, her wand flicking with practiced ease as she simultaneously stoked the fire in the hearth.
"Professor Vector," Professor McGonagall began, her voice stiff with barely contained frustration, "returned to Hogwarts a full ten days ago and even Professor Dumbledore hasn't left the castle for the past three days. And yet you, Bryan – you, with the mountain of work awaiting your attention – have only just returned now!"
"I had many things to handle--" Bryan mumbled, pursing his lips, but was immediately silenced by Professor McGonagall's stern look.
The desk before them was a testament to the workload facing the Hogwarts staff in preparation for the new term. Stacks of parchment wobbled precariously, each pile representing a different aspect of the school's administration. Schedules, student records, curriculum plans, and correspondence from the Ministry of Magic vied for space amidst a clutter of quills, ink pots, and half-empty cups of tea.
With a flick of her wand, Professor McGonagall summoned two steaming cups of tea from the sideboard. She handed one to Bryan before settling into her high-backed chair. For a moment, she simply sipped her tea, allowing the tension in the room to build.
Finally, she set down her cup with a decisive clink and reached for a particularly imposing stack of documents. With a grunt of effort, she hefted the pile – easily several feet thick – and deposited it in front of Bryan with a resounding thud.
"This," she said her tone brooking no argument, "is about the Triwizard Tournament."
Bryan's eyebrows rose involuntarily at the sheer volume of paperwork before him.
"The specific events of the Tournament are, of course, classified at the highest level. Only a select few within the Ministry are privy to those details at present. However," she tapped the stack of parchments meaningfully, "they've forwarded us a comprehensive list of materials required for constructing the event venues. We're to have everything prepared well in advance of the first task."
Bryan's brow furrowed as he skimmed through the topmost pages. "Surely this falls under Hagrid?" he said unhappily, smacking his lips. "Ground preparation, venue construction – it seems more suited to his expertise."
McGonagall's expression softened almost imperceptibly. "Under normal circumstances, you'd be correct. However, we find ourselves in a rather... delicate financial situation."
She leaned forward, her voice dropping lower. "Hogwarts' annual budget is allocated directly by the Board of Governors. Any unexpected expenses – such as those incurred by hosting an international magical tournament – require a separate application process. The report and itemized list are here," she gestured to the intimidating stack, "and I've already attached my signature. Now we need you and Dumbledore to sign. Please, do me a favor and finish this tonight!"
Professor McGonagall's face was tense, her lips pressed tightly together.
As he looked at the mountain of paperwork before him, Bryan suddenly felt a toothache coming on. However, a thought seemed to cross his mind, and without much complaint, he acquiesced, his tone more agreeable than McGonagall had anticipated. "Very well, I promise to complete this as soon as possible. I'll find Headmaster Dumbledore for his signature as soon as we're finished here."
Professor McGonagall's rigid posture relaxed slightly at Bryan's cooperative response. She took another sip of tea before broaching the next topic, her tone noticeably gentler.
"Now, there's the matter of your physical education class, Bryan. It's not just my opinion, but a general consensus among the faculty that your current schedule requires some... adjustment."
Bryan's brow furrowed. "What seems to be the issue?"
"I don't object to you having the children spend some time on the field every day, Bryan. It's good for them. But regarding the classes after dinner every other day, many professors have voiced concerns to me. They believe the timing is unreasonable because that's when young witches and wizards mainly handle their homework and prepare for upcoming lessons. To make up for this lost time, the students either have to stay up late or rush through their assignments."
Bryan nodded slowly, considering her words. "I've considered whether to add this course as an elective for third years and above but the curriculum is still in its experimental stages. I'm hesitant to expand it too broadly until we've refined the teaching methods."
His frown deepened as he thought aloud. "If evenings are out of the question, perhaps weekends—"
"Absolutely not," Professor McGonagall interjected firmly. "Weekend time belongs to the students. It's their opportunity to rest, socialize, and pursue personal interests. We make it a policy not to encroach on that time with formal classes."
"Then what do you suggest?" Bryan threw the troublesome question back to Professor McGonagall.
Professor McGonagall's expression softened slightly. It was clear she had given this matter considerable thought.
"My suggestion is still to schedule it on school days--" Professor McGonagall seemed to have considered this issue before and spoke directly. "Since you don't intend to incorporate the course into Hogwarts' curriculum for now, it means the participating students are fixed. I've noticed they're mostly fourth-years. You can choose a time slot that suits the majority of fourth and fifth-year students. As for the older students who've passed their O.W.L.s, their schedules are relatively flexible. And if absolutely necessary, we could retain one evening session."
Bryan nodded slowly, though his expression remained troubled. Coordinating such a schedule would be daunting. He'd need to review every participating student's timetable, identify potential conflicts, and then negotiate with their Heads of Houses and individual professors to resolve any clashes.
"There's... one more matter we need to discuss, Bryan," Looking at Bryan who was having a headache about arranging the class time, Professor McGonagall's solemn expression suddenly became a little unnatural, "It's about the safety plan you submitted to the International Confederation of Wizards. Specifically, the proposed class arrangements for our guests from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang during their stay at Hogwarts."
"What about it?" Bryan's attention snapped back to the present, his eyebrow arching quizzically at Professor McGonagall's suddenly evasive manner. "Is there a problem with the plan?"
"Oh, it's not exactly a problem--" Professor McGonagall took a deep breath, her tone slightly reproachful. "It's just... well, it's a rare opportunity, isn't it? I mean, for our students to interact with their peers from other magical traditions. But your current arrangement has the Durmstrang students attending classes with Slytherin, and the Beauxbatons students with Ravenclaw."
She paused, her lips pressing into a thin line before she continued, "As Head of Gryffindor House, Bryan, I feel obligated to advocate for my students. They deserve an equal chance to benefit from this valuable cultural exchange."
Bryan barely suppressed a groan as he registered the implicit accusation in Professor McGonagall's words. He hadn't assigned the visiting students to Slytherin and Ravenclaw out of any sense of favoritism, but he could see how it might be perceived that way.
"I assure you, Professor McGonagall," he began, rubbing his forehead wearily, "I had no intention of depriving Gryffindor or Hufflepuff students of this opportunity. My primary consideration in drafting the plan was the well-being of our guests. They're traveling a great distance to experience a radically different educational approach. I felt they would benefit most from a... shall we say, a more serene learning environment."
He trailed off, trusting that McGonagall would read between the lines.
It was no secret that Gryffindor and Hufflepuff students tended to be more boisterous and sociable. While these were admirable qualities in many respects, they might prove distracting for students trying to adapt to an unfamiliar academic setting. There was also the not-insignificant matter of how such distractions might impact the visitors' exam performance – a diplomatic incident Bryan was keen to avoid.
Professor McGonagall's brow furrowed as she pondered Bryan's explanation. After a moment of contemplation, she gave a reluctant nod. " Well, I admit your consideration is reasonable--" she admitted, though her tone suggested she wasn't entirely satisfied with the outcome.
Their discussion wandered through various other topics related to the upcoming term and the looming tournament. The candles in Professor McGonagall's office burned lower, casting elongated shadows across the room as the night deepened. Finally, after what felt like hours, Bryan rose from his seat, his joints protesting the movement after so long in one position.
With a casual flick of his wand, Bryan vanished the towering stack of documents from Professor McGonagall's desk. "I'll review these thoroughly in my office," he assured her, suppressing a yawn. "You'll have them back, signed and annotated, by morning."
Stepping out into the corridor, Bryan found himself at a crossroads, both literally and figuratively. To his left lay the path to Dumbledore's office, to his right, the dungeons where Professor Snape's private quarters were located. He stood for a moment, weighing his options.
"Hmm," he thought aloud, his voice echoing slightly in the empty hallway. "Dumbledore's always been a night owl. I'd better check in with Professor Snape first--"
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章 460: 0459 Ideas
Slytherin House's Head of House and Potions Master at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry had his office in the dungeons. Perhaps it was due to the constant dampness and darkness, but there was always a faint, musty smell lingering in the air. Coupled with the various potion ingredients and plant materials stored there, it was not a place most people would find pleasant.
Achoo—
Standing outside the office, Bryan was immediately hit by the odor seeping through the crack in the door, causing him to sneeze. He rubbed his nose and muttered a few words of discontent before bypassing the formality of knocking. Instead, he used magic to remove the protective wards guarding the office.
An eerie, greenish light seeped out from behind the now-open door. It emanated from a collection of jars filled with preserved plant and animal specimens, lining the wall. Snape turned his head, his face expressionless, and cast a cold glance at Bryan.
"I must say, I preferred your manners when you were a student at Hogwarts, Bryan," Snape said in his trademark icy tone. "You were much more polite back then."
"It was a necessity back then, Professor," Bryan replied calmly without flinching, slipping his wand back into the folds of his robes. "I'm not particularly fond of formalities these days."
Snape's lips curled into a mocking snort as he returned his attention to the task at hand, grinding lionfish spines into a fine powder over a shallow basin on his desk. It was clear from the man's brief demeanor that he was not in the most amiable of moods.
Undeterred, Bryan chuckled lightly and strolled past Snape, entering the smaller adjoining room where the school's rarest and most expensive potion ingredients were stored. Familiar with the space from his own student days, he began to inspect the meticulously organized shelves with open fascination.
"Hmm, a new shipment, I see," he murmured, plucking a small glass vial from the midst of a particularly well-stocked crate. Holding it up to the eerie green light, he examined the contents closely. "Ah, gillyweed – and in such perfect condition! This must have come directly from its natural habitat, not one of those dreadful wizard-bred varieties grown in bathtubs. This is worth a small fortune!"
"Put it down, Bryan," Snape said coldly, not even bothering to glance over his shoulder. "That is reserved for my seventh-year students preparing for their N.E.W.T.s."
"Of course, of course," Bryan acquiesced, carefully returning the vial to its place. His gaze continued to rove the shelves, taking in the dizzying collection of exotic ingredients before his attention was drawn to Snape's movements.
Professor Snape had finished grinding the lionfish spines and was now standing at the sink, meticulously washing his hands.
When Snape returned to his desk, he found Bryan wandering back into the main office and picking up a bottle of Invigoration Draught. Without waiting for permission, he uncorked the stopper and took a large sip, smacking his lips in satisfaction.
Snape's thin lips twitched at the casual disregard for his personal stores, but after taking a deep breath he managed to suppress the urge to throw Bryan out of his office. Instead, he stared at Bryan with a penetrating gaze, his voice deceptively calm as he asked a seemingly unrelated question.
"What's the deal with that woman?"
"Which woman are you referring to, Professor?" Bryan arched an eyebrow, an amused glint in his eye. "I know quite a few ladies—"
"The one who brought you such 'notoriety' that you even outshone our beloved Headmaster for a time," Snape replied calmly, ignoring Bryan's attempt at humor. "The papers say she's a dark witch from Albania, and that you once tried to put her in prison, but she escaped. Lately, finding the truth in the Daily Prophet is harder than getting a straight answer from that fugitive's godson."
It took Bryan a few seconds to realize who that "fugitive's godson" referred to. He chuckled, but rather than answer the question directly, he countered with one of his own.
"Didn't you ask Headmaster Dumbledore?"
"Dumbledore says he knows nothing," Snape said, his sharp eyes narrowing as he studied Bryan's face. "He told me only you can answer this question."
"Some of what the Daily Prophet reported came from me and is true." Bryan admitted, meeting Snape's probing gaze calmly. "I did try to capture her, and yes, she did manage to slip away. But that incident didn't take place in Albania, as they claimed."
He paused, a faint smile appearing across his lips. "As for the nature of the grudge between us, well, that's my little secret, Professor."
Snape's posture stiffened at Bryan's words.
There was only one reason why Professor Snape would pay attention to Cliodna, and his next words confirmed Bryan's suspicions.
"That woman serves the Dark Lord, doesn't she?" Snape pressed on, his voice tinged with barely concealed alarm.
"Why would you think that?" Bryan's lips curled slightly as he looked into Snape's eyes, trying to discern what lay hidden in the dark depths. But the emotions there were shrouded in mist, making it impossible to read. "Did Dumbledore tell you something?"
Bryan had initially thought Dumbledore might have mentioned how Cliodna had appeared first in Harry's box that night, making a big show of trying to take Harry away, leading Snape to suspect something. However, judging from the fact that Professor Snape subconsciously pulled his sleeves down after hearing his question, it should not be the case.
"Did the Mark react that night?" Bryan asked quietly, his eyes briefly flicking towards Snape's covered forearm.
Snape's body stiffened for a moment, instinctively wanting to avoid the topic. For reasons unknown even to himself, he was reluctant to discuss the Dark Mark on his arm with Bryan. But eventually, he overcame this hesitation. With a barely perceptible nod, his tone turned grim.
"I had just Apparated back to my doorstep that night when the Mark flared up more violently than it had in the last ten years. For a moment, I thought the Dark Lord was right inside my house—"
Recalling the unease of that moment, Snape's breathing hitched. He stared at Bryan's calm face and continued, "After thoroughly checking my home and finding nothing amiss, I immediately went to Hogwarts to report to Dumbledore. But Minerva told me Dumbledore had just been summoned by the Minister of Magic. It wasn't until the next day that I learned from the newspaper what had happened the night before."
Snape's face turned an alarming shade of white.
"Dumbledore didn't want to say much, but the Daily Prophet practically laid out the duel between you, that woman, and the wizard you fought with at last—"
Snape's fists clenched tightly under his sleeves, his lips pressed into a thin line, his entire body tense.
"I know him, Bryan. Given his current situation, there's no way he would risk orchestrating such a pointless attack. What is he planning?"
Sirius, Remus, and even Severus—all of them were elites in the British wizarding world, yet just the hint of a shift in the wind had unsettled them. It was clear how much they had suffered under Voldemort's regime and Dumbledore's reluctance to share more with Snape and others likely stemmed from his understanding that they needed time to come to terms with the growing tension.
"The witch I dueled at the Quidditch World Cup is indeed a new ally of the Dark Lord," Bryan said, his tone somber. "I'm not sure what led them to join forces, but it's certainly not his charisma. As for the masked Dark Wizards who first appeared after the match, they were just brought in by a fool to cause chaos. But Cliodna – she was there to kidnap Harry."
Snape's complexion paled further, This was news to him.
"—From what I can gather, the plan to kidnap Harry during the Quidditch final wasn't the Voldemort's idea. He only risked showing himself in the crowd to save his newly recruited, hard-earned assistant from me—"
As Bryan took his leave of the dungeons, Snape remained rooted to the spot, a haunted expression etched upon his features. He was beginning to realize that the Dark Lord was willing to stop at nothing to return to the public eye, forcing Snape to confront the ghosts of his past that he had tried so desperately to bury for years.
The night had deepened, and a torrential downpour now lashed against the windows of Hogwarts, the howling wind making the ancient castle feel as if it were sinking into the abyss, with nothing visible outside.
In his dimly lit office, Dumbledore sat behind his desk, dressed in a flowing nightgown and engrossed in the pages of a thick book. Apart from him, the previous headmasters in their portraits on the wall and Fawkes on his golden perch were all soundly asleep.
Dumbledore's calm demeanor did not seem to be disturbed by Bryan's sudden arrival though a trace of helplessness appeared on his wrinkled face when Bryan unceremoniously tossed a stack of documents onto the desk. However, when Bryan spoke his first sentence, Dumbledore's expression morphed from one of helplessness to one of sheer astonishment.
"Have you ever considered making Hogwarts independent, Headmaster Dumbledore?"
The warm and comfortable atmosphere in the circular office changed after Bryan's seemingly unintentional words, and became somewhat tense. Even the Sorting Hat, which had been diligently composing a song for the next evening's Sorting Ceremony from its perch on the shelf behind Dumbledore's chair, paused, its brim no longer swaying and a crack near the hat's edge, resembling a mouth, slowly opened.
Dumbledore, masking his surprise behind a composed expression, closed the book he had been reading. His piercing blue eyes, behind half-moon spectacles, bore into Bryan with a gaze as deep and heavy as the ocean, though his voice remained gentle.
"Making Hogwarts independent... That's an interesting thought, Bryan. When did you first come up with this—"
"Don't get me wrong, Headmaster—"
Bryan remained at ease despite Dumbledore's weighty gaze. Leaning back in his chair, he smiled slightly.
"I'm not suggesting that Hogwarts should become a second Ministry of Magic, vying for power with Cornelius Fudge's administration, and eventually replace them."
"What, then, do you mean?"
Dumbledore's gaze didn't waver.
"The only way for Hogwarts to be free from the Ministry's jurisdiction is if Hogwarts *is* the Ministry. Failing to see that would be foolish. What I'm saying is—" Bryan's eyes pointed to the stack of documents on Dumbledore's desk as he spoke calmly. "I do believe that having a Board of Governors overseeing Hogwarts is somewhat unnecessary."
A sudden silence fell over the room. The oppressive intensity of Dumbledore's gaze vanished as he took off his glasses and leaned back in his chair like Bryan, rubbing his brow gently.
In his sleep, Fawkes emitted a melodious, unconscious warble, while Phineas Nigellus Black, Sirius Black's great-great-grandfather and former Headmaster of Hogwarts, slyly opened one eye, casting a look of admiration toward Bryan before quickly pretending to be asleep again.
As Dumbledore looked at the young face across the desk, a face far more composed than most of his age but still vibrant with youthful energy compared to his own, his lips twitched slightly.
"You didn't come up with this idea just to get rid of these tedious application processes, did you, Bryan?"
"To be honest, a considerable part of the reason is because of this--" Bryan chuckled, his voice light and cheerful.
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