Chapter 215. The Role of the Board of Governors
Evening fell, and the rain over Hogwarts still showed no sign of stopping.
The Dementors inside the castle had withdrawn and were now drifting along the perimeter of the grounds.
Clearly, today's search had yielded nothing.
Adrian Wesson sat in his office, shaking out his aching arms and giving a long stretch.
On the desk before him, little black wooden plaques had already piled up like a small hill.
These were the amulets he had prepared for the students of Hogwarts.
Because time was tight, this batch might be slightly less effective than the one Hagrid had.
Even so, enchanting so many amulets had left Adrian exhausted in body and mind.
His wand had almost started smoking from overuse while enchanting them.
After Professor Dumbledore informed the Board of Governors of the situation, they immediately approved a large sum of money.
Adrian had to admit: the Board might not have much presence most of the time, but when it came to money, they truly paid up.
The money he'd spent on the Firebolt today had come back in one go.
Thinking of that, Adrian's mood brightened again.
He wasn't short of money, but who didn't like gleaming Galleons?
"Knock, knock, knock."
Someone rapped lightly on his office door.
"Come in."
The door opened and Professor McGonagall stepped inside.
Instinctively, her gaze fell on the heap of amulets on the desk, and her brows lifted slightly.
"It seems you've finished already, Professor Wesson. I thought you might need some help—clearly I was worrying for nothing," she said.
"Ah, yes," Adrian said with a smile, raising the coffee on his desk. "For the students' safety, I had to put in some overtime. Was there anything else, Professor?"
Professor McGonagall picked up an amulet and examined it closely.
She could sense a faint, unusual aura within.
Clearly, these weren't the sort of trinkets that merely fooled the eye.
Satisfied, she nodded. "I'll distribute these to the students tomorrow. And then I'd like you to help me with something."
"What is it?"
Adrian looked puzzled.
"The students arrive tomorrow," Professor McGonagall said gravely, "but I've heard that Dementors will be boarding the train with them."
"The information you've got is correct." Adrian nodded. "I heard Fudge mention it—the Dementors will be inspecting the Hogwarts Express tomorrow."
Professor McGonagall inclined her head and went on, "For the sake of the students, I'd like you to go to Platform Nine and Three-Quarters tomorrow morning to escort them, Professor Wesson."
"Oh, all right."
Adrian agreed; it wasn't any great trouble for him.
"Excellent," Professor McGonagall breathed out. "With you there, it should be fine."
Adrian smiled.
At some point, the professors of Hogwarts had all begun to acknowledge his ability.
When Professor McGonagall handed him tasks, she did so with an expression of complete trust.
"And Lupin will go with you tomorrow as well," Professor McGonagall added, turning back at the door. "As the Defence Against the Dark Arts professor, he feels obliged to stand between those evil beings and the students' safety."
"That's all the better." Adrian watched Professor McGonagall leave.
By the look of it, Lupin was taking the matter very seriously.
Which was only natural—after all, Black had once been Lupin's friend.
Meanwhile, at the Leaky Cauldron—
After buying everything they needed for school in Diagon Alley, Harry, Ron, and Hermione had spent the whole day wandering about as well.
Even so, the three of them still looked as though they hadn't had their fill.
Harry had spent some money on a set of Gobstones, a popular wizarding game a bit like marbles; whenever someone lost a point during the game, the little stones would squirt a foul-smelling liquid at that person.
In the wizarding world, people seemed to favour foods or games that came with side effects.
Harry didn't particularly mind.
Ron had bought several bottles of Rat Tonic at the Magical Menagerie—lately his pet Scabbers seemed a bit off, not only undernourished but also sleeping poorly at night.
Hermione had bought a cat from the shop named Crookshanks.
In fact, she had meant to buy an owl, but the shop assistants had been too busy today and she never found a chance to ask one to recommend an owl that would suit her.
So, while browsing, she'd set eyes on Crookshanks and taken to him at once.
She'd heard he had a bit of Kneazle blood.
Just now, the three were resting in Harry's little room.
Ron was making up his summer Potions homework—he had misheard Snape's twelve-inch assignment as ten.
While Ron was tearing his hair out over his work, Harry was carefully admiring his new broom off to the side.
He wondered what the Slytherins' faces would look like when he flashed the Firebolt in front of them.
"You've been staring for half an hour, Harry." Hermione, sitting nearby with Crookshanks, said to him helplessly. "You haven't done anything at all for the last half hour."
Ron lifted his head from the parchment, a spot of ink on the tip of his nose. "Tomorrow you can show it to Malfoy properly. I bet that even if his dad spoils him, he won't buy him a broom this good."
"Too right." Harry finally set the Firebolt down.
At that moment Crookshanks suddenly grew restless and trotted over to Ron's feet.
"Hey—Hermione, keep an eye on your cat!"
Ron sprang up from his chair.
"Oh, be good." Hermione hurriedly scooped Crookshanks back into her arms.
"You really shouldn't have bought that cat," Ron said, still shaken. "Back in the shop he nearly got Scabbers, and now I don't even dare let Scabbers show his face in front of him."
"You're still worried about that?" Hermione shook her head and lifted Crookshanks up. "He only meant to startle him—Scabbers is a rat and Crookshanks is a cat. Crookshanks is the cleverest cat I've ever seen, and he won't do that again. Will you, good boy?"
Crookshanks immediately began to purr.
"All right, done!"
Ron suddenly tossed down his quill and let out a breath. "Finally made it up."
"Good thing I checked it for you," Hermione said to Ron. "Otherwise Snape would have taken loads of points. I don't want us to be in negative numbers on the very first day."
At that, an image of Snape in a temper sprang into Ron's mind.
"Thanks, Hermione," he said weakly.
Hermione huffed and turned her head away.
When would these boys stop making her worry?
"By the way," Ron crawled over to Harry and said in a low voice, "about that criminal in the paper—Black… I overheard my dad… he might be going to Hogwarts…"
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