A Professor of Magic at Hogwarts

Chapter 259: Growing Clarity

Chapter 259: Growing Clarity

"I have a question," Felix Harp interjected, "Why didn't I receive the Mirror's alert?"

The initially excited trio fell silent abruptly, and the air was filled with an uneasy quiet. After a few seconds, Harry said with embarrassment, "I forgot to bring it, Professor. I changed into new clothes."

"It seems that the short-lived tranquility made you all lose your vigilance," Felix said calmly. He appeared not to be angry, but Harry felt even more guilty, his face burning.

Dumbledore looked at Harry and his friends. "So, you failed to detect Sirius Black because you forgot to carry the Mirror. What happened next? Why did you accuse him of being Animagus?"

Harry looked up. "We were coming back from Hagrid's because of Buckbeak's case...," he paused, "as we passed by the Whomping Willow, a large black dog suddenly leaped out. He... he attacked Ron, trying to drag him away."

Felix noticed a hint of doubt flicker in Dumbledore's gaze, a doubt he shared. After all, wasn't Black supposed to be after Harry? Why give up an easy opportunity to attack Harry and instead go after his companion? To make Harry experience the pain of losing someone dear to him? It didn't add up.

"My mind went blank at that moment. I instinctively cast the Disarming Charm, and it hit the big black dog, sending him flying. It was then..." Harry stared, his eyes wide, "I saw the dog's head flicker for a moment, turning into Black's face. I've seen his wanted poster many times, I couldn't possibly mistake it."

"The black dog rolled on the ground twice, and then Hagrid burst out of the house and yelled in our direction. Black turned and fled."

Harry left something unsaid. The black dog had looked at him strangely, with a mix of resentment and... something resembling satisfaction. Was he seeing things? Why would he think like that?

He continued, "Hagrid carried Ron to the hospital wing, and then he left, saying he was going to search the entire Forbidden Forest."

It sounded like an exaggeration... the Forbidden Forest was not just the small patch next to Hogwarts. It could house Acromantulas, Centaurs, Unicorns, Giants, and Werewolves all at once, definitely not something "small."

In fact, Hagrid's emotions seemed much more intense than what Harry had said. From the way he was seething, it looked like he wanted to tear Black apart.

Dumbledore said softly, "I see." He closed his eyes and sat quietly. Flitwick couldn't help but ask, "Felix, can your Mirror detect Animagus forms?"

Felix nodded. "In theory, it's possible. I designed it to target names, bloodlines, and magic simultaneously." He hesitated and looked at Professor McGonagall. "Of course, I am not Animagus myself..."

"If that's the case..." Professor McGonagall pondered, "it should work. Animagus transformation is not the same as a regular animal transformation; wizards retain their magical abilities and human thinking."

"Moreover, it's unclear in what form Black was attempting to infiltrate the castle last time. If it was his Animagus form, then it clarifies a lot. Animagus forms don't change easily," Dumbledore agreed.

"And what puzzles me is why Black was so fixated on Mr. Weasley," Dumbledore looked at Ron, "Is there a special reason?"

Ron uneasily replied, "I, I don't know, sir. I didn't have anything on me...," he looked down at himself and suddenly realized, "Scabbers is missing!"

"Your pet rat?"

"Yes, he was just here. Maybe he got scared and hid somewhere."

Felix glanced at Ron, pulled out his wand, and quickly summoned, "Scabbers, come here!" but there was no response. "He's not nearby..."

Black's inexplicable fixation on Ron, the sudden appearance of Animagus, and if Ron was fine, then what could be the issue...

He looked at Dumbledore and said solemnly, "Headmaster, things might be different from what we initially thought."

Dumbledore refrained from making hasty judgments. "There's someone who might have the answers... Minerva, is Lymes still in his office?"

"He's been there all along, but he's been having a rough time these days," Professor McGonagall said vaguely.

Hermione piped up in a high-pitched voice, "Headmaster Dumbledore? Do you know that Professor Lupin is, well, a-"

"Yes, I'm aware," Dumbledore cut in, his tone signaling that the topic was closed. "Lymes has been in his office these past few days, dealing with some old ailments. He hasn't had the energy to focus on other matters. Nevertheless, I need to have a thorough conversation with him. He might provide us with some information we're not privy to."

Dumbledore stood up, his gaze shifting down from his high nose bridge to Harry. "For the next while, I'd like you to stay within the castle, not venture outside, and carry the Mirror with you."

As the professors left, Harry, Ron, and Hermione exchanged glances. Just as they were about to speak, Madam Pomfrey entered. She reapplied a layer of white ointment to Ron's wound, causing him to grimace in pain. However, the pain soon lessened, and the area around the wound began to itch.

"This child needs time to recover. Don't overstay," Madam Pomfrey cautioned, pursing her lips. She wore a stern expression. "Why do you always get yourselves into such a state?"

Harry said gloomily, "I also want to know the answer to that question."

With only the three of them left in the infirmary, the room fell into a quiet stillness, intermittently broken by Ron's sharp inhales. His wound, though both painful and itchy, seemed to be healing at a rate several times faster than normal.

Hermione suddenly spoke up, "Harry, have you ever thought that Black's target has never been you?"

Harry wanted to refute it, but the words wouldn't come out. He did consider that possibility, and that embarrassed him; it was as if all the preparations he had made for so long were a joke.

But then what about Ron?

Hermione pulled out her beaded bag and retrieved the memory vial made of chestnut wood. "We could try piecing the memories together, merging what we saw."

After a moment—

"Look here, isn't it obvious? Black's target is clear – it's Ron. But Ron... he shouldn't have even been born when Black was locked up."

Hermione was deeply perplexed. "Could someone in your family have a history with Black?"

"Or maybe the Dementors messed up his mind," Ron mumbled dully.

"Do you remember the conversation we overheard at the Three Broomsticks? Fudge mentioned that Black speaks coherently and even asked him for a newspaper. Doesn't sound like the actions of a lunatic," Hermione pointed out.

"What does that prove? There's a rumor that the hooded figure secretly had contact with Dementors. Those cloak-folk might have given him some leeway for their master's sake," Ron countered.

"Ron, put your rusty brain to work," Hermione snapped in exasperation.

Harry, however, thought of something crucial. "The newspaper. You mean, he saw a newspaper... just a few days before he escaped. The key is the newspaper, Ron. Remember the letter you wrote me during the holidays? It had a clipping of your family winning the Daily Prophet's Annual Prize."

Ron's expression turned astonished. "So, Black saw news about our family winning an award and got so jealous that he went mad and came specifically to kill me? Merlin's beard, it was just seven hundred Galleons! And we've almost spent them all..."

Then he added with a disgusted look, "Why would Fudge be carrying a newspaper around? Did Barty Crouch Jr. stomp on his brain?"

Hermione said, "That can't be the reason, Harry. I don't understand it yet, but we need to find the newspaper from back then and see if there's any overlooked information."

Harry added, "And Professor Lupin. I bet he knows something. You can tell from Dumbledore's demeanor."

Hermione appeared somewhat hesitant. "Oh, Harry, I think it might be better if we wait a couple of days until the professors confirm that everything is okay before we pay him a visit..."

Meanwhile, Felix had parted ways with Dumbledore mid-way. Dumbledore didn't want anyone interrupting his conversation with Lymes.

However, for Felix, some clues were already laid out in front of him. He just needed to reorganize the information at hand and extract the most likely speculations.

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