章 467: 0466 The News
The dreary clouds had finally parted, but Harry's first day back at Hogwarts was far from joyous he had hoped for. The morning's Herbology class, shared with the friendly Hufflepuffs, had been relatively bearable. Professor Sprout had tasked them with the rather disgusting but straightforward job of squeezing pus from Bubotubers - plant-like creatures that bore creepy resemblance to thick, black slugs. The viscous, yellowish-green liquid that oozed from the swollen lumps was, according to Professor Sprout, "Extremely valuable! Undiluted Bubotuber pus is an excellent remedy for the more stubborn forms of acne."
However, the morning took a sharp turn for the worse during their Care of Magical Creatures class. Hagrid had a penchant for dangerous creatures that he affectionately referred to as "interestin'." True to this, Hagrid had prepared what he clearly thought was a delightful surprise for his students. With barely contained excitement, he unveiled his latest creation: Blast-Ended Skrewts.
These bizarre creatures defied easy description. Pale and shell-less, they resembled deformed, headless lobsters. Ranging from six to eight inches long, they emitted a powerful odor similar to rotting fish. Sparks flew from their rear ends at irregular intervals, propelling them forward with small explosions. The male Skrewts possessed stingers, while the females had sucker-like appendages on their bellies probably for sucking blood.
As if their appearance wasn't alarming enough, the Skrewts quickly proved to be as dangerous as they were ugly. Their unpredictable nature meant that no student left Hagrid's class unscathed. Some had red burns from the Skrewts', others nursed puncture wounds from the males' stingers, and some ones were on the receiving end of surprisingly strong bites from what appeared to be the creatures' feeding end. Even Hagrid, with his thick skin and enormous body, didn't escape unscathed, sporting a nasty burn on his hand by the end of the lesson.
The afternoon brought little breather. Professor Trelawney's Divination class was held in the muggy, perfume-laden North Tower. By the time the class mercifully ended, Harry had gained nothing but a throbbing headache and a mountain of homework that will consume his entire weekend.
As the final bell rang, signaling the end of classes, Harry and Ron both in low spirits shuffled towards the Great Hall and queued in line for the evening feast. The entrance hall was buzzing with the chatter of hungry students, all eager for the evening feast.
"I was just about to look for you, Harry!"
The familiar voice cut through the ruckus, and Harry turned to see Hermione descending the grand staircase. Her bushy brown hair was even more baggy than usual, likely from the day's humid air, and she was overloaded with an intimidating stack of thick, leather-bound tomes. Her brown eyes, sharp and inquisitive, quickly took in the dejected postures of her two friends.
"What's going on? Are you planning to eat first?" Hermione asked, her brow furrowing in confusion. She shifted the weight of the books in her arms, revealing the title of one: Advanced Arithmancy and Its Applications in Modern Spell Crafting. It was clearly not a text intended for fourth-year students. "Don't we usually do Professor Watson's running exercises before dinner?"
Harry couldn't help but marvel at Hermione's seemingly boundless energy and dedication to her studies. Since the start of term, it seemed she had taken on even more extracurricular reading than usual. Not only was she carrying a towering stack of books, but her bag - enchanted to be lighter and more spacious than it appeared - was visibly straining at the seams with additional weight. A quick glance at the spines showed titles far beyond their current curriculum: "Temporal Magic: Theory and Ethics," "Comparative Magical Law: From Merlin to Modern Day," and "The Alchemist's Apprentice: Nicolas Flamel's Lesser-Known Discoveries."
Before Harry could voice a response to Hermione's question, Ron interjected, his freckled face a picture of exaggerated weariness:
"Harry needs rest, Hermione, to recover from the fatigue of this grueling day and to mourn our weekend that's over before it even began—"
"That's right," Harry nodded sincerely, grateful for Ron's intervention. The thought of running laps around the Quidditch pitch after the day they'd had was almost too much to bear.
Hermione's eyebrow arched skeptically, clearly unimpressed by Ron's theatrics. However, a flicker of understanding crossed her face. She was well aware that not everyone shared her enthusiasm for constant self-improvement, and that 'normal' young wizards often needed time to adjust to the rigorous demands of higher-level magical education. With a small sigh, she decided not to press the issue and instead joined the queue alongside her friends.
Just as Hermione, the PE class assistant, was about to remind Harry that he wouldn't be allowed to make excuses to avoid daily training after dinner, a grating all-too-familiar voice suddenly rang out from behind them.
"Weasley! Hey, Weasley!"
The trio turned simultaneously, their faces immediately hardening at the sight of Draco swaggering into the entrance hall, flanked by his ever-present cronies, Crabbe and Goyle. Malfoy was panting, with strands of hair stuck to his forehead, evidently having just returned from the Quidditch pitch.
What struck Harry as odd, however, was that Malfoy's eyes weren't fixed on him, as they usually were. Instead, his gaze was locked firmly on Ron. Harry and Hermione exchanged a quick, worried glance before noticing the folded newspaper clutched in Malfoy's hand. A sense of foreboding settled over them; whatever was printed on those pages, it couldn't be good news for Ron.
"What?" Ron asked warily, his body tensing as if preparing for a physical exchange.
Malfoy's thin lips curved into a smug smile. He cleared his throat with exaggerated importance, pitching his voice to carry across the now-hushed entrance hall.
"There's something interesting!" Malfoy said unfolding the newspaper with a curl. The bold headline of the Daily Prophet was briefly visible before he began to read aloud:
"New Chaos at the Ministry of Magic—Our special correspondent Rita Skeeter writes that due to the bizarre behavior of Arthur Weasley from the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office, the Ministry has once again found itself in an awkward position following the Quidditch World Cup attack and the unexplained disappearance of a female employee—"
Harry's mind raced, processing the information. The mention of Mr. Weasley barely registered before his thoughts latched onto the phrase "female employee disappearance." A chill ran down his spine as he recalled the conversations between Mr. Weasley and Professor Watson. Hadn't they informed the Ministry about Bertha Jorkins' fate at the hands of Voldemort? Why was it still being referred to as an "unexplained disappearance"?
Among the Hogwarts population, quite a few students and staff members subscribed to the Daily Prophet. Hermione was also one such subscriber. The moment Malfoy began his recitation, she instinctively reached out to grab Ron's sleeve, her fingers curling into the fabric of his robes.
"Let's go, Ron," she whispered urgently, her brown eyes darting between her friend's reddening face and the growing crowd of onlookers. "Ignore Malfoy, he's just a boring clown—"
But Ron stood his ground, his jaw clenched and freckles standing out starkly against his rapidly paling skin. He was determined to hear every word of the article, no matter how painful. Hermione, realizing the futility of trying to move Ron, turned to Harry with a pleading look. To her dismay, she found that Harry, too, was listening intently to Malfoy's words.
The next thirty seconds felt like an eternity as Malfoy continued to read, his voice dripping with mock concern and barely concealed glee. When he finally finished, he folded the newspaper with exaggerated care, his pale, pointed face had a triumphant grin. With a theatrical flourish, he held up the front page, displaying a large photograph to the half-silent, half-murmuring crowd of young wizards in the entrance hall who were pointing at Ron.
"Look at this," Malfoy squealed. "A picture of your parents standing in front of your house—if you can call that a house!"
Malfoy's eyes glittered maliciously as he delivered what he clearly thought was the coup de grâce (death-blow): "And your mother—she could do with losing some weight, don't you think? She might look a bit more respectable then."
Ron's entire body began to shake with suppressed rage, his hands clenching into white-knuckled fists at his sides. The gathered students alternated between staring at Ron and shooting furtive glances at Malfoy.
"Get lost, Malfoy," Harry, snapping out of his focused state, finally registered the silent message Hermione had been trying to convey with her increasingly frantic looks. "It's not worth getting angry, Ron."
"Hey, Potter," Malfoy sneered, his smirk growing wider. "Your oversized head at the Quidditch World Cup was much more interesting than usual. Pity the Daily Prophet didn't add your picture to the front page too!"
Harry's emerald eyes flashed dangerously behind his glasses. "Is that so?" he replied, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "What about your parents, Malfoy? Shouldn't they also make an appearance for their mischievous little activities at the World Cup final?"
He leaned in, his voice cold. "If they were to make the paper, what background would fit? Your house certainly wouldn't be appropriate. No, I think Azkaban would be quite fitting!"
The noisy entrance hall suddenly fell silent. Everyone turned their gaze to Harry, taking several seconds to react to what Potter had just said.
"Shut up, Harry—" Hermione hissed, her eyes wide with alarm as she took in the bewildered and curious looks from their fellow students. She tugged insistently on his sleeve, her voice tight with worry. "This isn't the place to discuss this. There's no evidence, and—"
But Malfoy's outraged howl drowned out her words. "How dare you insult my parents, Potter!"
Draco's normally pale face had turned an even starker shade of white, a vein pulsing angrily at his temple. He clearly understood what Harry was implying, but his eyes showed disbelief, as if he genuinely didn't know about it.
Harry, caught up in the heat of the moment, couldn't resist twisting the knife further. "What's wrong?" he taunted with his green eyes blazing. "Didn't they fill you in on their clever little schemes?"
People's attention quickly shifted from 'Arthur Weasley' to what Harry was referring to. Even Ron noticed the unusual atmosphere in the entrance hall and realized what it was about. Hermione, sensing the situation spiraling out of control, moved swiftly. She walked behind the two boys who were standing there dumbly, grabbed an arm each, and without a word, tried to drag them away.
"Wait, explain yourself clearly, Potter!" Malfoy howled.
Hermione, her patience finally snapping, whirled around to face Malfoy. "Shut your mouth, Malfoy!" she yelled, her cheeks flushed with anger and exertion as she continued to pull her friends away.
BANG!
The sudden, explosive sound shattered the tense atmosphere. Several students screamed in surprise and fear. Harry felt something white-hot graze his cheek, leaving a trail of searing heat in its trail. His hand instinctively flew to his robe pocket, fingers scrabbling for his wand, but before he could draw it, a gravelly roar echoed through the entrance hall:
"Oh no you don't, boy!"
Harry, Hermione, and Ron spun around to see Professor Moody limping down the marble staircase. He had his wand out and both his normal and magical eyes were fixed on the entrance, looking somewhat surprised.
"Nice dodge, boy," Moody growled, his normal eye fixed on Harry while his magical eye continued its frenzied rotation. "But let's see where you're going to hide!"
Harry immediately turned his gaze to the entrance and saw that the marble tile where Malfoy had been standing was smoking Crabbe and Goyle stood frozen in shock, their bulky frames quivering like oversized jellies. But Malfoy himself was nowhere to be seen.
A flash of movement caught Harry's eye, and he spotted white-blond hair disappearing through the main doors. Malfoy was fleeing.
"Did he get you?" Moody's gruff voice cut through Harry's stunned silence. The professor had reached the bottom of the stairs and was now standing beside the trio, his magical eye fixed on the running Malfoy.
"No," Harry replied blankly. "Missed me."
Without another word, Moody moved past Harry, pushing aside the terrified Crabbe and Goyle. With a grim face, he raised his wand high, and as he stepped out the door, he brought it down again!
SNAP!
The sound was like a thunderclap in the confined space of the entrance hall. A visible wave of magical energy surged from Moody's wand, rushing towards the open doors like an invisible tidal wave. The force of the spell was so great that it created a powerful gust of wind, whipping through the hall and causing tapestries to flap wildly and loose parchments to take flight.
Harry, caught off guard, struggled to keep his eyes open against the rushing air. His glasses were nearly blown off his face, and he had to reach up quickly to secure them. The crowd of students queuing for dinner behind them let out a collective gasp of surprise.
"What's going on?" Hermione immediately questioned when she regained her composure.
As the dust settled and vision cleared, all eyes turned expectantly towards the entrance. Professor Moody stood motionless at the threshold, his wand still pointed towards the marble steps outside. The tension in the air was palpable as students craned their necks, trying to see past the imposing figure of their Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher.
"What are you doing--" came a voice from the bottom of the steps. Bryan glanced at the visibly shaken Draco hiding behind him, raised an eyebrow, and calmly looked towards the entrance, lowering his wand. "Professor Moody?"
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章 468: 0467 Actions (Large Chapter)
"Stand aside, Watson!" Moody growled in a low voice, his magical eye fixed intently on Bryan. "I need to teach this despicable little brat a lesson!"
Like ripples on a lake disturbed by a gentle breeze, Bryan narrowed his eyes slightly. His reaction wasn't to Moody's rude words, but to that magical eye. As an accomplished alchemist, Bryan could see that this special eye had intricate magical runes etched inside, constantly pulsing with magic to detect the surroundings and relay information back to its user.
While ordinary wizards might find this eye quite frightening, for Bryan—who possessed an incredibly powerful innate ability to sense magic, whose perception of magic can even be comparable to sight—it felt like someone was examining him with a magnifying glass pressed against his face, trying to peel away his clothes. One can imagine how uncomfortable this sensation was.
"Help, Professor Watson!" Draco peeked out from behind Bryan. It was clear that he had been truly frightened by Moody's fierce and unreasonable behavior. His face was pale, and tears were welling up in his eyes. "This madman wants to kill me!"
Whoosh!
Suddenly, a thumb-thick rope shot out from the tip of Moody's wand. After leaving the wand, this agile rope coiled itself, gathering strength, then lunged forward, aiming to loop around Draco's neck and drag him out from behind Bryan.
Bryan, who had been turning his head to look at Draco, didn't even glance back. He casually waved his wand behind him. Before the young wizards pouring out of the entrance hall could see what had happened, Professor Moody's conjured rope had already dissipated into a wisp of black smoke, scattered by the wind.
"I'm sure you understand," Bryan said, turning back to face Moody, "that this has gone beyond the scope of a joke, Professor Moody."
"Oh, are you going to shield this despicable little wretch, Watson?"
Bryan's warning didn't deter Moody; if anything, it seemed to enrage him further. Moody stepped over the threshold, onto the top of the marble staircase, pointing his wand at Bryan and Draco as he snarled, "I'd like to see how you plan to stop—"
Bryan's face finally darkened. He stood still, his wrist twirling deftly. Then, a red orb of light the size of a Bludger, crackling with crimson electricity, erupted from his wand tip. It swiftly flew to hover above the middle of the marble staircase!
"Oh, that spell!" Angelina from the Gryffindor Quidditch team gasped, covering her mouth, from among the spectators inside the doorway.
Moody's magical eye quivered violently. Suddenly, the surface of the floating red orb rippled, and then—
Recognizing the imminent threat, Moody reacted with the speed and precision that had kept him alive through countless dark wizard encounters. He swung his wand in a horizontal arc, conjuring a shield of countless red sparks that glittered like shattered stars in the air before him. But this was only a prelude to the true attack.
The orb unleashed its fury. Beam after beam of intense scarlet light erupted from its surface, each one powerful enough to rival the most potent stunning spells. They slammed into Moody's hastily erected defenses with relentless force. Though he managed to block these searing lances of magical energy, it didn't mean he could easily absorb the impact of the spells!
Bang, bang, bang!
The young wizards hiding in the entrance hall watched as Moody continuously waved his wand to block the successive beams of red light. However, the powerful force still pushed him back step by step, forcibly driving him back into the entrance hall!
"What are you doing?!" A surprised voice suddenly came from the staircase on one side of the entrance hall. It was Professor McGonagall, carrying a few books, looking astonished at the unfolding scene.
Whoosh—
At the sound of Professor McGonagall's voice, Bryan's concentration broke. The floating orb vanished in an instant, leaving behind only a faint afterimage in the eyes of those who had been watching it too closely. Moody, no longer under assault, sagged against the grand doorframe. His breathing was labored, chest heaving beneath his travel-worn cloak. The scars on his face seemed even more noticeable as his face twitched repeatedly, whether from exertion or barely contained rage, it was hard to tell.
Professor McGonagall recovered quickly from her initial shock and hurried down the stairs. In her haste, she nearly lost her footing. It was only the unexpected presence of Colin Creevey and his ever-present camera that saved her from a nasty fall. Using his neck to steady herself, Professor McGonagall regained her balance.
After hastily apologizing to Colin, McGonagall roughly pushed through the crowd to Moody's side. She first examined Moody's entire body, ensuring he hadn't lost any more body parts, then took a deep breath.
When she spoke, her voice quavered with barely contained anger, a tone that her students knew all too well as a prelude to serious consequences. "Bryan, and Alastor, please tell me what exactly you two are doing!"
"He tried to kill me!" Before either of the combatants could respond, Draco quick-witted as ever, immediately darted out from behind Bryan. His pale face was in manufactured innocence as he jabbed an accusing finger at Moody. "It's this madman! Professor Watson was only defending me!"
"You're talking nonsense, Malfoy!" Ron yelled, straining his voice. "You attacked Harry first!"
The entrance hall began to fall into chaos once more as students from different houses began to take sides, their voices rising in accusations and defenses.
"Silence, all of you!" Professor McGonagall's face was ashen. She glanced at Bryan and Alastor, who were still staring at each other, breathed heavily a few times, then fixed her gaze on Hermione. "Alright, Miss Granger, you saw everything, didn't you? Explain what happened!"
Ron quickly and discreetly jabbed Hermione's arm, earning himself an angry glare from Professor McGonagall!
With so many witnesses to the events, Hermione couldn't possibly cover for anyone. She recounted the incident from start to finish in full detail.
"The first day of school hasn't even ended, and this happens!" Professor McGonagall fumed. "Slytherin loses twenty points. Mr. Malfoy, two days of detention. I'll inform Severus to handle your punishment!"
Harry barely had time to feel relieved and happy before he noticed Professor McGonagall turning her gaze on him. His heart sank immediately.
"The same goes for you, Mr. Potter!"
After announcing his punishment, she looked at the growing crowd of students in the entrance hall and sternly added, "Everyone, go eat! Don't stand around here!"
No one dared to defy Professor McGonagall when she was this angry. The young wizards scattered in a flurry, including Harry and his friends, as well as Draco, who slunk dejectedly into the Great Hall after a nod from Bryan.
"Professor Moody!" With the entrance hall finally cleared, Professor McGonagall stared at the now-recovered Moody, her lips pressed tightly together. "Regarding your use of magic to attack a student—"
"It was just Transfiguration. I thought a good scare would teach that despicable, dirty little brat a lesson—" Moody said dismissively.
"Transfiguration or not—" Professor McGonagall said wearily, "If we believe a student's behavior needs punishment, we can deduct points or assign detention, or report to the Head of their House. I'm sure Dumbledore must have told you this—"
"Perhaps—" Moody pulled out his flask from his waist, took several large gulps, and grunted. Then he looked warily at Bryan, who was coming up the marble staircase, as if still expecting Bryan to raise his wand and hit him with something nasty.
Professor McGonagall, sensing the lingering hostility, turned her attention to Bryan.
"And Bryan—" Professor McGonagall frowned, seemingly pondering how to reprimand him. But after some thought, she apparently couldn't find much to criticize him for. "Next time, you should at least try to understand the situation first, and then be a bit gentler, Bryan. Professor Moody is your colleague, not a dark wizard you need to deal with—"
"Regarding the latter point, I reserve my judgment—" Bryan said coolly.
He didn't care much about how that Draco had started trouble with Harry and his friends again; they always found reasons to create conflicts with each other. But there were some things he had to point out.
"You might still retain some habits from your professional days, Professor Moody, but I must point out that not everyone enjoys being scrutinized by a magical eye. Furthermore, as the Head of Hogwarts Student Safety Office, I'm not entirely satisfied with your explanation for actively attacking Draco Malfoy. I believe it's necessary for me to observe your daily classes. If the content doesn't meet my satisfaction, I don't rule out the possibility of requesting your departure from Hogwarts."
"Are you threa—" Moody's face contorted with anger. He instinctively wanted to retaliate, but for some reason, facing Bryan Watson's expressionless face, he stopped mid-sentence. Finally, he grudgingly muttered the word 'Welcome' before turning and leaving abruptly.
"Alastor was invited by Albus, Bryan. We should at least try to be friendly—" While McGonagall clearly sided more with Bryan on the matter at hand, she still felt compelled to say this.
"I've already taken that into consideration, Professor McGonagall—" Bryan spread his hands, feigning innocence.
...
*Scenebreak*
The duel between Professor Watson and Professor Moody took place in the entrance hall before dinner. Many young wizards witnessed the battle, while those who missed the spectacle learned about it during dinner discussions.
Students were no longer concerned about what caused the conflict between the two professors, but rather became fascinated by the duel itself. Undoubtedly, Professor Watson emerged victorious, which surprised no one. Given his numerous impressive performances over the past two years, it would have been astonishing if he had lost in a confrontation with someone else.
Professor Moody was absent from the staff table, leading some to believe he was too embarrassed to show his face after losing to Professor Watson. However, Neville, who had just returned from a breathless run around the Quidditch pitch, informed everyone that Moody was patrolling the school grounds.
"No wonder Dad speaks so highly of Professor Moody—" Ron exclaimed to those around him, "You know what I mean, right?"
"Everyone knows what you mean, ickle Ronniekins," George said kindly.
Harry sat with his head down, staring intently at the patterns on his silver goblet, lost in thought.
"What's on your mind, Harry??" Hermione, noticing Harry's somber mood, asked quietly. " Are you still thinking about Professor Watson helping Malfoy?"
"I don't understand—" Harry began, as if a floodgate had opened, "Did you hear what that Skeeter woman from the Daily Prophet said? The Ministry still believes Bertha Jorkins is just missing, but how can that be? They've already caught that woman Cliodna with Professor Watson's help, haven't they? If they'd interrogated her properly, they should know that Voldemort killed her.
Hermione's eyes widened at the mention of the Voldemort's name, but she didn't interrupt.
"And they're still claiming that Cliodna and those masked wizards are working together," Harry continued, his voice rising slightly with each word. "But it's obvious they don't even know each other! Even if the Ministry's got it all wrong, Professor Watson knows everything. He has to. So why isn't he-"
"Oh, shut up, Harry!" Hermione, who had been listening patiently, suddenly interrupted, looking nervously towards the front of the Great Hall. "Professor Watson is coming this way!"
"Alastor has fought evil his entire life, and as you can see, he has suffered much persecution in this long struggle, Bryan—" Dumbledore was saying. Though no one had reported to him about the earlier incident in the entrance hall, he seemed to know everything upon arriving at the Great Hall from his office. He patiently consoled Bryan.
"He has a low tolerance for certain behaviors. Of course, his use of magic to discipline young wizards was indeed inappropriate, but that doesn't mean he lacks control over his emotions or is unstable, as you might think."
"Heh, our beloved Headmaster has always been very accommodating of those with special talents—" Snape, who had overheard these comments, sneered from the side.
Bryan didn't speak, but looked at Professor Snape with slight surprise.
"But be careful, Bryan. That madman considers everyone a Dark wizard except Dumbledore. Your good reputation means nothing to him. He might even demand to search your office and luggage next—"
"What? Has Professor Moody made such a request of you?" Bryan asked, somewhat astonished.
Snape's sallow face darkened further, his lips pressing into a thin line that practically disappeared. Dumbledore, who apparently already knew about this, didn't seem particularly surprised. He only looked at Professor Snape with a hint of apology.
"I've already emphasized to Alastor that you are trustworthy, Severus."
"Oh, how honored I am to have earned your trust, Headmaster Dumbledore," Snape said coldly.
Neither Bryan nor Professor Snape would change their personal opinions of Mad-Eye Moody based on Dumbledore's words. Dumbledore knew this well and, after sighing helplessly, said no more.
The atmosphere at the staff table was a bit stiff. Bryan, disliking such an environment, wiped his mouth with a napkin and left his seat. Instead of returning to his office, he walked down to the Gryffindor table.
As he passed, the discussions at the table fell silent, as if hit by a Silencing Charm. The young wizards all turned curious gazes towards him.
"May I have a word, Harry?" Bryan said, standing behind Harry.
"Oh, of course, Professor Watson!" Harry scrambled to his feet, nearly knocking over his goblet in his haste.
"And you too, Hermione. I have something to discuss with you as well. Come to my office—" Bryan said then looking at Hermione, who had her head down, pouring gravy over her baked potato trying (and failing) to look as though she hadn't been eavesdropping.
Hermione's eyes widened in surprise, but she quickly gathered her wits and stood up. "Yes, Professor,"
Both Hermione and Harry hurriedly got up and followed Professor Watson towards the entrance hall. Across the table, Ron, realizing he hadn't been invited, disappointedly put down his cutlery and watched the three leave, his cheeks puffing out.
Although it was only September, in Hogwarts, nestled among dark mountains and waters, the wind that wandered through the ancient castle after nightfall already carried the chill of late autumn. Harry and Hermione both got goosebumps as the wind hit them, while the climate change had little effect on powerful wizards like Bryan.
As they walked along the second-floor corridor, Bryan paused briefly, his gaze directed towards the spacious grounds. He narrowed his eyes for a few seconds before moving on.
"Professor Moody," Harry whispered to Hermione, pointing towards a limping figure barely visible in the dim light spilling from Hagrid's hut. "He's still patrolling?"
They were already familiar with Professor Watson's office. Upon reaching the office, Harry and Hermione made their way to the familiar sofa without being told. Professor Watson, rather than taking his usual seat behind the desk, joined them on the sofa.
"It's like this—" Bryan looked at Harry. "This afternoon, I met with Sirius in Hogsmeade."
Harry's eyes immediately widened with anticipation.
Bryan sank into the soft sofa and smiled, "He came for two main reasons. First, he wanted me to convey his apologies regarding the argument you two had during the summer holidays."
"Why couldn't he tell me himself?" Harry said indignantly.
"Haha, I didn't ask—" Bryan chuckled meaningfully at Harry, whose expression showed the unique rebelliousness of adolescence. "But I suppose it's for the same reason you're unwilling to apologize to him directly."
Harry's face turned bright red, pretending not to notice Hermione covering her mouth to stifle a laugh. He quickly changed the subject, "What's the second thing, Professor Watson?"
"The second matter actually doesn't concern you, but considering Sirius is your godfather, I think you have the right to know—" Bryan's smile faded as he spoke calmly, "Sirius has decided to join the Ministry and become an Auror. You know what Aurors are, don't you, Harry? Professor Moody was one before he retired."
Harry nodded instinctively, but when he truly realized what he had heard, his mouth fell open in shock, gasping for air.
"Sirius... an Auror? But... how? Why would he want to do that?"
"It's not that surprising. Sirius is a capable adult wizard with exceptional magical skills. Now that he's cleared his name, it's only natural for him to seek out a way to put his skills to use and find his place in the wizarding world once more. Think about Headmaster Dumbledore—he's still working at over a hundred and ten years old."
"But—" Harry closed his open mouth, his emerald eyes glimmering with worry in the yellow lamplight.
Aurors were tasked with combating Dark wizards, and Harry had a firsthand understanding of how dangerous this job could be from Professor Moody's condition. Sirius wasn't like Professor Watson or Professor Dumbledore, who could handle any situation. On the night of the Quidditch final, when those three masked wizards appeared in their box, Sirius had struggled to deal with them. In fact, if Cliodna hadn't helped him, he might have met with misfortune that night!
Harry suddenly felt an urgent need to return to his dormitory and write to Sirius, advising him to reconsider carefully. But even as this thought formed, another part of him argued that if this was truly what Sirius wanted, Harry should offer his full support.
These two thoughts battled in Harry's mind, leaving him unable to decide for the moment.
Sensing Harry's inner turmoil, Bryan didn't press the issue further. Instead, he turned his attention to Hermione, who had been listening to the exchange with rapt attention.
"Hermione, I wanted to ask you about the progress of everyone's training?"
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