The persistent gloom of many days finally dissipated on the first day of the New Year. The rising sun cast its light on the snow-covered playground, and the reflected brilliance draped Hogwarts Castle in a delicate golden veil.

After preparing the restorative potion that Hermione had to take, Madam Pomfrey went downstairs to have breakfast in the Great Hall. In the hospital wing, only Harry and Ron were there to accompany the downcast Hermione, and after hearing her recount the events of the previous night, their expressions were far from cheerful.

“Professor Snape must know!” Hermione said, covering her furry face with her hands, her expression dejected. “Before the door opened, Professor Snape called out my name... This shouldn’t have happened. No one but Madam Pomfrey knew about my situation. Professor Snape is a Potions Master; he must know what the consequences of using Polyjuice Potion for animal transformation would be. So, this means he knows I stole materials from his storeroom.”

Harry stared blankly at the tall goalposts on the playground. Today, he and Ron had planned to visit Hermione after breakfast and then play some Quidditch, but now it seemed that plan would undoubtedly be canceled.

Moreover, since the Christmas holidays, his good mood had quickly faded because no one in the castle had been secretly discussing his Parseltongue or accusing him of being the heir of Slytherin. All of this stemmed from the young wizard named Amosta Breen that Hermione had just told him about.

“Amosta Breen, who claims to be an investigator,” Harry asked anxiously. “Hermione, what do you think Breen wants to investigate at Hogwarts?”

“Do I even need to ask, Harry? What else is there to investigate at school?”

Harry and Ron didn’t seem to worry at all about being expelled over this, which only made the already frustrated little witch even more irritable.

Harry felt a strange chill gripping his stomach, which had been warmed by the rice porridge he had eaten that morning. He had never heard this name before, and aside from Mr. Weasley, he hadn’t dealt with any wizard with an official title. However, that didn’t stop the heavy pressure that settled in his heart upon hearing the term “investigator.”

Because of his Parseltongue, he was already the subject of suspicion among the younger wizards. If everyone found out that an investigator had come to the school in the second semester, how much more criticism would he have to endure?

Harry could almost see the smug expression on Malfoy’s detestable face; perhaps he would be the first to report himself to the investigator.

“Why would the Ministry of Magic suddenly send an investigator to the school… I mean, there’s Headmaster Dumbledore here, and he never mentioned anything to me?”

This reminded Harry of the night Justin was attacked when he had a conversation with Headmaster Dumbledore in his office. At that time, for various reasons—especially the fear that Dumbledore might mistakenly think he had some connection with the founder of Slytherin—he hadn’t confessed to the warning about the Chamber of Secrets or the terrifying voice that appeared before each attack.

Could it be that Dumbledore was unhappy with his secrecy and therefore agreed to let the Ministry take over? Would the Ministry, wanting to save trouble, just lock him up in the wizard prison that Malfoy mentioned based on rumors?

“Of course, it must be that old bat Snape scheming behind the scenes!” Ron declared, his freckled nose raised defiantly as he held a half-eaten potato pie. “Think about it, Harry. This Breen is close to Snape; maybe he’s a graduate of Slytherin.”

Ron began to chew his potato pie again, analyzing the situation as if it were a serious matter. “Who would want to get you expelled from this school more than Snape? I bet, Harry, this investigator was sent by Snape to do just that…”

“Thanks, Ron. After hearing your analysis, I feel a lot better,” Harry said, slumping on the edge of the bed, feeling listless.

“Stop talking nonsense, Ron.”

For whatever reason, since Snape hadn’t directly exposed him last night, it seemed to indicate that he wouldn’t be expelled for stealing from the professor. Understanding this made Hermione a bit less tense; she crossed her arms and glared fiercely at Ron.

“Even the Minister of Magic doesn’t have the right to casually expel a Hogwarts student unless it’s agreed upon by Headmaster Dumbledore. But Harry, Headmaster Dumbledore wouldn’t expel you, right?”

If it had been before that conversation, Harry might have been able to give a definite answer. He had always felt that the silver-haired old man treated him and the other young wizards a bit differently, even though their direct conversations had been few and far between.

“Maybe, Hermione,” Harry hesitated to answer. “At least Dumbledore told Hagrid that he didn’t think I attacked Colin and the others. He can’t just agree to expel me because I’ve kept some things from him.”

While Harry was caught in his worries, Ron, dismissed by Hermione, was mumbling his opinions. Suddenly, he frowned at the pure white ceiling, looking as if he was trying to recall something.

“Amosta Breen… I feel like I’ve heard that name somewhere before.”

This whispered murmur immediately sparked Harry’s interest.

“Ron, since this Breen claims to be an investigator, he must be a colleague of Mr. Weasley or something. Maybe they have a good relationship, or perhaps… you can help me write a letter to ask? I mean, to explain things before he finds me—”

Ron’s parents, the Weasley couple, were Harry’s favorite wizards, and they were very kind to him. The week he spent with the Weasleys last year was the most wonderful time he had experienced during summer vacations in many years. If Mr. Weasley knew Amosta Breen, he would definitely not refuse to help Harry defend himself.

The golden sunlight gradually climbed up the goalposts on the playground, and the gentle breeze blowing across the spacious grass carried a hint of the vitality of spring.

“Of course, no problem, Harry. I can write a letter…” Ron hesitated as he continued to recall where he had heard that name. “Fred and George might have heard of him too. As for Prefect Percy, oh, we’d better not ask him. For the sake of his career, he might be even more eager to betray us than Malfoy!”

“That’s your brother, Ron,” Hermione said, pulling back the blanket and sitting on the edge of the bed to put on her boots. “You shouldn’t speak about him like that.”

Among the trio, Hermione had the highest regard for Ron’s brother, Percy Weasley. Privately, she had consulted Percy many times about difficult problems, and he had indeed helped her solve quite a few with his extensive knowledge.

“Before he became a prefect and aspired to be the head boy, we were indeed brothers. But now, it’s hard to say.” Ron’s ears turned red as he angrily said, “I’ll never forget how he took five points from me in front of Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom!”

“Percy is the prefect; maintaining discipline is his duty, Ron.”

Although Hermione had been present when Percy docked Ron points, she didn’t think there was anything wrong with Percy’s actions.

Hermione stood up, stomped her boots, and then flipped up the collar of her robe to cover the dark hair on her cheeks as much as possible. “Go get your Invisibility Cloak, Harry. Do you want me to walk out of the hospital wing looking like this?”

“Oh, going out?” Harry, who had been lost in thought, suddenly returned to his senses. “Are you going to play Quidditch with us, Hermione?”

“When are you going to stop thinking about Quidditch, Harry?” Hermione looked defeated. “We’re obviously going to investigate that Mr. Breen. We need to figure out his background first, don’t we?”