"Alright, thank you for your generosity, Miss Potts." Howl reluctantly accepted it. He never thought he would one day receive such a gift.
Run!
He couldn't stay in this common room for a second longer!
Upon arriving at the Ravenclaw common room, Professor Flitwick, understanding the situation, quickly gathered the students. Howl again summoned his Patronuses and strictly controlled the behavior of these furry creatures.
Afterward, the two went to Hufflepuff. Professor Sprout didn't quite understand what Dumbledore and them were doing, and because Hufflepuff had many students, it took a lot of time.
Walking through the underground corridor, the two quickly entered the Slytherin common room.
"What a damp place. The incidence of rheumatism among Slytherin graduates must be quite high," Howl said.
"Your focus always surprises me," Dumbledore said with a laugh.
Upon entering, the two immediately noticed the peculiar atmosphere in the Slytherin common room.
Solemn, quiet.
People exchanged glances, their body language full of menace.
Like a powder keg about to explode.
Too many things revolved around them: Quidditch, the Heir of Slytherin, the Basilisk…
The underlying conflicts were all suppressed by Snape alone.
Precisely because of this, that accumulated emotion would surely explode with a bang before long.
"Severus, have you found anything?" Dumbledore asked.
Snape shook his head, his expression as grim as when he taught Potion Class to the first-years.
"Then let's begin." Howl nodded, once again releasing his Patronuses to inspect the children's dormitories.
A moment later, both shook their heads, having found nothing.
"Could it be that the direction of the investigation was wrong?" Howl felt doubtful, scanning the faces of the Slytherin students.
However, he found nothing.
Walking out of the common room, Howl reminded him, "If there are no problems, I will set up some monitoring methods in the school.
The magical portraits are good for knowing if Little Wizards are out at night or fighting. But when it comes to real situations, a Confundo will make them unable to turn their heads."
"Good," Dumbledore nodded.
Howl glanced at him in surprise, not expecting him to agree so readily.
Behind him, Snape's footsteps echoed, his gait distinctive: heavy, wide-striding, and rapid-paced.
He seemed to always be striding quickly.
"Severus!" Dumbledore looked at him, puzzled.
"Dumbledore, I think we need to talk…" Snape said, as if he too had some long-standing issues.
For example… why a certain person was a Parseltongue…
Of course, Howl didn't know any of this; he was busy figuring out how to set up a surveillance system for Hogwarts…
In the Slytherin common room, after Snape left, the previous chaos erupted.
"He controlled the Basilisk to attack Gryffindor?"
"You did the Chamber of Secrets thing?"
"It's over, there's no way we're getting the House Cup this year!"
"I'm going to write to my father in the Ministry of Magic, Dumbledore is really senile."
All sorts of words intertwined, people muttering, their eyes occasionally falling on a figure in the middle of the common room.
Draco sat on the sofa beside Harry, warily observing the surrounding gazes.
Ah… Is this what it feels like to be in the eye of the storm…
Thinking this, he looked at Harry.
In contrast, Harry's face was devoid of any expression.
Just as he was thinking, Hedlund suddenly appeared and sat on the sofa opposite Harry.
"Want to play chess?"
Harry snapped out of it; he had been thinking about who exactly was the one controlling the Basilisk in the Chamber of Secrets.
That person's actions… were unforgivable!
"Okay."
Harry didn't know why, but he nodded as if by some strange impulse, perhaps feeling his mind was too chaotic and needed to be cleared.
The discussions around them grew louder; in Slytherin, not everyone was pure-blood, there were also many half-bloods whose parents were from ordinary people.
Or it was possible that one of their parents had only become a Wizard one or two generations ago.
These were all collectively referred to as half-bloods in Slytherin.
At this moment, they watched Harry with concern, the rumors of Lord Voldemort and Parseltongue filling them with fear.
However, Harry gave no response.
Soon, this discussion took another turn.
"Why did you withdraw from the competition? It's over, we won't get the House Cup this year."
"Eight years, Slytherin has held the House Cup for eight consecutive years, and now it's going to be broken in your hands?"
Bang—
A glass bottle was angrily smashed onto the table, shattering into pieces.
The entire common room fell silent, and everyone's eyes focused on the person who had smashed the cup.
Marcus Flint!
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