Dumbledore nodded: "His parents were tortured by Death Eaters and are still lying in St. Mungos… This child, I don't believe he would lean towards the abyss."
"You haven't looked into his mind?"
"I have, but found nothing… If he intended to evade, there are many ways…" Dumbledore's voice slowed, his gaze fixed on the table.
He didn't want to face this fact, but his character forced him to harbor the worst doubts and suspicions about this child.
"Perhaps it's just a setup," Howl said indifferently.
A hero's descendant, choosing to lean towards Dark Arts to seek revenge on Lord Voldemort's followers from back then, and this child happens to be the one who usually appears most ordinary, even dull…
This kind of plot really makes one uncomfortable.
"Let's maintain our doubts for now; I will observe him closely," Dumbledore said.
His temperament had been like this for decades; he would not place trust in anything.
"Hopefully it's not a child," Howl said faintly.
"The best outcome is someone I can kill without any psychological burden."
Dumbledore kept scrutinizing him, as if he were only just getting to know him.
He could feel Howl's undisguised displeasure.
Generally speaking, many Wizards refused to express emotions so openly.
"I just want to kill him," Howl revealed a gentle smile.
Just as Professor Flitwick said, when one chooses this identity, one naturally needs to bear the corresponding responsibilities.
After Howl left, Phineas, hands crossed on the table, said solemnly from the wall:
"Dumbledore, there's one more thing you must pay attention to: Flint's attack will accelerate the erosion of Hogwarts by the ancient families and the Ministry of Magic."
Phineas was known as the most unpopular Principal in history; however, no matter how criticized his high-pressure policies were, his skill in mediating between the Board of Governors and the Ministry of Magic was truly masterful, and even his portrait understood much about this aspect.
"I know, thank you for the reminder, Phineas."
Dumbledore nodded…
Early the next morning, news of Flint's attack and the first snowfall spread throughout the school.
Immediately, rumors flew through the school, and everyone became suspicious.
And this time, even Slytherin grew worried.
Because Flint was not only a standard pure-blood but also a member of the Sacred Twenty-Eight families.
And now, he too had been attacked.
At the same time, after the Basilisk was dealt with, Flint was still lying in the hospital wing, which provided fertile ground for rumors.
Some said he was burned to a crisp by Fiendfyre and needed a long time to recover. Others said his body was dismembered into eight pieces and needed to be pieced back together like Frankenstein's monster.
Although many people were confused about what Frankenstein's monster was, it didn't hinder the growth of fear and the spread of rumors.
And among these, the 'Potter theory' naturally played a part.
Flint is stupid, he disgraces the pure-blood family, do you understand?! He's like a Troll, he's a pure-blood disgrace, so he was eliminated!
You only need to inquire a little to know that Potter and Flint don't get along. And they haven't gotten along since last year, he might have been plotting to attack Flint for a long time.
First-year students now always moved around in tight groups of three or five, as if they were afraid they would be attacked if they moved alone.
Everyone was no longer calm.
"I can do nothing about their stupidity," Draco helplessly rubbed his forehead, speaking in a tone one might use to discuss a Troll: "And this aligns with what I said two days ago, Flint really… has some reputation, though I think he's quite stupid too."
"Don't think so much," Harry shook his head indifferently, changing the subject:
"Actually, I initially thought you'd consider this kind of discussion and attention not a bad thing, and advise me to enjoy it."
"I'm not crazy," Draco scoffed.
"They could clearly be trampled underfoot, yet in their mouths, they become villains who attack others.
Only those who are incompetent but desperately crave attention would be happy about this kind of negative attention."
He raised his head disdainfully: "I like to call them—Wastes!"
Harry was amused by his words, and Draco's lips curled into an unfriendly smile: "What do you mean? I haven't earned fewer points than you this semester, have I?! You better be careful, I'm catching up to you."
"Keep it up," Harry shrugged.
The bell rang, and crowds poured out of the classrooms.
"Hello, Harry," Colin, who had just finished class, walked over and greeted him.
"Hello, Creevey," Harry smiled and nodded: "Thank you for speaking up for me in the Gryffindor common room earlier, Hermione told me everything."
"Really?" Colin became excited, then quickly tried to say something more, but was swept away by the incoming crowd, carried off into the distance.
"Oh no, it's so crowded!" Draco quickly retreated, and the two followed the flow of people, turning into a quiet corridor on the third floor.
"He said this place is better than St. Mungos, what can I do?" a deep, unfamiliar male voice reached their ears.
Then, a somewhat sharp, biting female voice: "Let him be. If you try to transfer him now, he'll probably die of pain on the way."
"He'll probably have to stay here this Christmas."
"Christmas… that old man thinks he can downplay it. He escaped the Ministry of Magic's scrutiny last year, but not this year. Dolores, help me contact Ms. Skeeter."
"Yes," a sharp voice rang out, seemingly a House-elf.
The voices faded, and the two gradually couldn't hear their conversation…
"It's Flint's parents!" Draco said, seeing Harry's bewildered expression: "I saw them at a somewhat lower-tier banquet once."
"Then who is the Skeeter he mentioned?"
"I don't know, she seems to be a writer of funny novels. My dad and the others at banquets sometimes talk about things Skeeter wrote, and they always laugh, laugh so happily," Malfoy said, spreading his hands.
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