0635 Your Thoughts (LARGE-CHAPTER)

Bryan gazed in wonder as he watched the scene unfold before him in Dumbledore’s office. Winky was practically bouncing with joy as she eagerly accepted a woolen sock from Dumbledore’s outstretched hand. With two swift, graceful bows, Winky vanished from sight, disappearing in the blink of an eye presumably to the home of her master Barty Crouch.

It was a sight that Bryan had never before witnessed – a house-elf overflowing with happiness at being dismissed from service. Her joy was so overwhelming that she didn’t even pause to bid farewell to Dobby, despite the difficult times and hardships they had faced together.

And it seemed that Winky was indeed loyal to Barty Crouch.

However, from another perspective, this also reflected the free will of house-elves. Despite already belonging to Hogwarts, Winky still couldn’t forget Barty, which indicated that house-elves would also choose their favorite masters.

Lost in contemplation over these things, Bryan slowly turned, expecting to see Dumbledore equally deep in thought. But to his great surprise, he found Dumbledore staring intently at the sole woolen sock remaining in his old hand with a thoughtful expression etched across his face, reluctance and nostalgia mingling in equal portion.

“Is something the matter, Headmaster?” Bryan inquired having his one eyebrow raised questioningly. “Does that sock hold some special meaning or story for you?”

Dumbledore let out a heavy sigh, gently tucking the sock into the folds of his robe pocket, clearly having no intention of discarding it.

“Ah Bryan,” he began, his voice tinged with melancholy, “This happens to be one of the few pairs of woolen socks I own. For years now, well-meaning friends and acquaintances have insisted on gifting me books upon books each Christmas, no doubt assuming that an old man like myself wants nothing more than to pass the hours reading. And while they’re not entirely off the mark…”

Dumbledore turned to face Bryan directly, a glimmer flickering in his sharp blue eyes. “They have rather missed the mark when it comes to understanding my truest desires and needs.”

Bryan couldn’t help but chuckle and roll his eyes. “Believe me, I understand your plight all too well, Headmaster. It’s not different from my own fondness for the glitter of golden Galleons and the allure of precious gems – and yet much to my disappointment, it seems no one has managed to uncover that particular fondness of mine either.”

After a joke, the two sat down again.

Bryan’s brow furrowed as he brought up the covert inquiries he had just started. “Headmaster… regarding my probing just now, do you believe there’s a risk that Voldemort could detect anything unusual that could expose our activities?”

Examining Winky’s memory would have been by far the simplest and most direct means of uncovering Barty Crouch Jr’s secrets. However, neither Bryan nor Dumbledore would consider this idea, because if they let Winky go back, the risk involved would be too great. Therefore, Bryan could only use some seemingly normal questions to obtain some clues.

Dumbledore stroked his long silvery beard, deep in thought. “I very much doubt that Tom will trouble himself to examine Winky’s memories at all. In fact, Bryan, if he were to make a big fuss over delving into the mind of a mere house-elf, that would be what truly frightens me. Now, as for Barty Crouch Jr…”

Dumbledore pondered for a moment, then slowly said in a sorrowful tone, “—he will definitely question Winky, there’s no doubt about that. He’s a smart boy. If I remember correctly, he obtained twelve O.W.L.s. in his time here.”

“Then you believe he may grow suspicious?” Bryan asked, a note of urgency creeping into his voice.

“Yes, I do suspect he will have his doubts,” Dumbledore acknowledged grimly. “But,” he continued, his tone lightening slightly, “I don’t think you need to worry too much— If Barty Crouch Jr. hasn’t completely abandoned the good things in his soul like Tom has, then he should be grateful to Winky for her loyalty. Suspicious though he may be, he will inevitably persuade himself that it is just his imagination. Because if he tells Tom about all this, he should realize that he will immediately lose Winky—”

It had to be said that Dumbledore was a true master at controlling people’s hearts, even without his profound magical power. After a moment of contemplation, Bryan nodded slightly.

From Winky’s hesitant answers just now, it was already clear how Senior Barty had helped his son escape from Azkaban. Dumbledore and Bryan, two exceptionally intelligent wizards, had basically reconstructed Barty’s actions back then.

This was undoubtedly a lamentable matter.

Even Bryan had never thought that a ruthless Ministry of Magic official like Barty would have such a soft side in his heart, not for his son, but for his wife.

Speaking of which, Barty’s wife’s love for her son was no less than Harry’s parents’ love for him. These great parents were all willing to sacrifice themselves in exchange for their children’s chance to live.

However, neither Dumbledore nor Bryan were willing to delve deeper into this topic. Since they had figured out what had happened, that was enough. Sympathizing with the plight of enemies who were in a life-and-death struggle—neither Bryan nor Dumbledore would be so saintly.

“I’m very sorry, Bryan—” Having finished the matter on Bryan’s side, Dumbledore finally began to talk about his own journey. “I used the excuse of recalling the good old days when we worked together to stay with Horace for a few days, but he was always unwilling to discuss the topic of Tom with me. Horace is a clever wizard. I guess when he saw me appear at his doorstep, he had already figured out my intentions—”

Dumbledore said with a slightly regretful tone.

“But the importance of this matter goes without saying, Headmaster Dumbledore—” Since it involved Dumbledore’s old friend, Bryan couldn’t say much and could only remind him tactfully. “We must find out if he has any key clues. Have you considered using a different approach—”

“Horace is a respectable wizard, Bryan. Unless it’s absolutely necessary, I try not to use forceful methods. If we do that, how would our actions be any different from Tom’s?”

Faced with Dumbledore’s noble words, Bryan could only sigh helplessly.

The two had been busy for several days. As soon as they returned, they were in a hurry to discuss the matter of Barty and his son. Until now, Bryan was still hungry.

Looking at Bryan’s retreating figure as he was about to leave his office, Dumbledore, who had stood up to change his robe, blinked and suddenly called out to him.

“Any other instructions, Headmaster Dumbledore?”

“Oh, I just wanted to remind you, Bryan—” Dumbledore’s blue eyes twinkled, and a smile appeared at the corner of his mouth. “You can’t turn a blind eye to the difficulties Minerva is facing. In the next few days, maybe you should put some effort into the Christmas ball. We can’t disappoint the children, can we? Even in this office, I can hear the voices of those children full of anticipation—”

Meanwhile, in a different part of the castle, Hermione was storming through the corridors at a furious pace.

“Hermione, Hermione!”

Harry and Ron had to jog to keep up with Hermione, who was striding forward. Harry called out her name loudly, but Hermione remained unresponsive, her gaze was fixed straight ahead, unwilling to deviate in the slightest, allowing the cold wind to blow her already bushy hair into an even more chaotic state.

Even if he was still confused, Harry knew that Hermione was angry, and once again, it was for some unknown reason.

Eager to know what Professor Dumbledore and Professor Watson were investigating, Harry could only cast a pleading glance at Ron. But for some reason, Ron avoided his gaze, seemingly wary of provoking Hermione at this moment.

“Hermione, what do you think Professor Dumbledore and Professor Bryan are investigating?” Harry had no choice but to persist in his questioning.

“I don’t know!” Hermione walked quickly with her head held high, still not looking at Harry.

It wasn’t hard for Harry to see that Hermione’s anger was mainly directed at him, which made him even more puzzled. He really didn’t understand where he had angered her again. Could it be that some of his narrations in Dumbledore’s office had displeased Hermione?

Harry racked his brain to recall what he had said in the headmaster’s office, but indeed couldn’t find anything that would have angered Hermione.

“Hermione?” When they turned to Gryffindor Tower, Harry finally couldn’t help but ask again. “What do you think about the questions Professor Dumbledore and Professor Watson asked?”

Bam! Hermione finally responded. She slammed her foot heavily on the ground, turned her head, her pure pupils reflecting the firelight.

“Compared to the questions from Professor Dumbledore and Professor Watson, Harry, I’d like to ask, what do you think about Fleur inviting you to the Christmas ball?”

Harry was stunned and his eyes were filled with bewilderment.

What else could he possibly think? Hadn’t Fleur already explained that she had chosen him to be her date to the Yule Ball because of his kind, friendly behavior when she first arrived at Hogwarts for the Triwizard Tournament? And also, because she loved the dress, he had given her?

Of course, there had been some misunderstandings wrapped up in all of this, and Harry indeed wanted to clarify them. But Fleur hadn’t given him a chance to speak, had she?

Was Hermione angry because Harry had agreed to Fleur’s invitation? Ron was equally stunned, staring at Hermione with a slightly odd expression.

Seeing the two dumbfounded boys in front of her, Hermione shook her head. She let out a heavy, exasperated sigh, as if Harry and Ron were simply beyond help. However, her anger and frustration had also dissipated quite a bit due to their genuinely clueless, helpless demeanors.

“Let’s talk more about it when we get back to the Gryffindor common room,” Hermione finally said briefly, before stepping forward again as she strode down the stone corridor.

This year’s classes had already ended for the term, and although the professors had left a large pile of homework assignments to complete over the holidays, no young wizard or witch, with the exception of ever-studious Hermione, had the motivation or feeling to spend this joyful festive time cooped up in the dull, musty library bent over books. The fun-loving Gryffindor students had been living it up and taking full advantage of the freedom these past few carefree days.

During the day, they would bundle up in their scarves and cloaks and head out to the castle grounds in groups to participate in snowball fights and play magical games. As soon as the sun dipped below the horizon and night fell, they would all return to the warmth of the Gryffindor tower common room for gatherings by the roaring fire that stretched late into the night, only dispersing and heading up to their dormitories one by one when their eyelids grew too heavy.

When the Fat Lady’s portrait swung open, the circular common room was illuminated by the buttery glow of candlelight, making the crimson and gold décor even more inviting. The festive atmosphere was particularly livelier and wilder than it had been in previous days.

Fred and George were standing unsteadily balanced atop a round wooden table, enthusiastically selling their newly developed product to the gathered crowd—biscuits named Canary Creams enchanted to temporarily transfigure the eater into a bright yellow canary covered in feathers for one full minute.

Ever since accident-prone Neville had been tricked into advertising these bizarre biscuits by sampling one, they had been flying off the shelves, or so to speak. Neville himself seemed to have developed quite the peculiar fondness for the canary creams too, and he had already sent Fred and George a pouch full of quite a few silver Sickles to purchase more.

“Oh, look who’s here! The most envied bloke at Hogwarts at the moment!” The twin brothers, standing on high ground immediately noticed and called out when Harry and his two best friends came squeezing through the round entrance hole into the bustling common room.

The two leaped gracefully into the air, jumping clear over the heads of star-struck younger Gryffindor brothers Colin and Dennis Creevey, and landed skillfully right in front of an unwary Harry.

“You can always pull off creating headlines and miracles, can’t you, Harry!” George said, patting Harry’s arm heavily with one large hand and a grin. Fred also winked mischievously at him.

“Let’s take a photo to commemorate this historic occasion, Harry!” Colin had somehow materialized his camera already and held it at the ready, clearly eager to snap a picture of his hero as he said this.

“Oh, what?” Harry immediately reacted. He attempted to shield his face from the camera lens with his palm. “Don’t do it, Colin!”

But it was too late. Suddenly, the mob of boys scattered in every corner of the noisy, crowded common room appeared in front of Harry all at once, forming an eager group. Many began applauding and cheering loudly, slapping Harry on the back in hearty congratulations. But quite a few were also eyeing him with envious, slightly bitter gazes, wishing they could have been in his lucky shoes.

Harry’s mumbled objections had absolutely no effect. Colin’s camera flashed in a series of blinding, dazzling bursts of light.

“You’re really something else, Harry!” Seamus squeezed out from the depths of the jostling crowd, grinning from ear to ear. He punched Harry’s shoulder and said loudly, “It’s not strange at all though, is it? The Boy Who Lived, who defeated You-Know-Who himself as a baby—which bird in this whole bloody school can resist your famous charm?”

Harry’s mind was spinning as he gradually figured out the reason behind this noisy scene and commotion. He opened his mouth and attempted to shout over the noise, wanting to explain the innocent misunderstanding regarding Fleur. She hadn’t chosen him as her date to the ball because she fancied him like that; he realized that all these blokes still didn’t know about how he’d gifted Fleur the dress.

But in this rowdy, unruly celebratory situation, who would bother to listen to Harry’s feeble protestations anyway? The horde of boys just kept lining up eagerly, taking turns coming up to Harry’s side one after another.

Each of them had to pound Harry on the back, or slap and punch any part of his upper body they could reach, as if this was the only way they could show their respect and admiration for Harry managing to successfully “pull” and get his hands on the undeniably attractive part-Veela French witch—the most sought-after and desirable girl within the entire Hogwarts campus at the moment.

“Hermione, why in Merlin’s saggy trousers are you scowling like that?” George finally withdrew his gleeful gaze from the festivities and glanced over at Hermione. She had her arms folded tightly across her chest and she was glaring at Harry as the uncontrollable merriment sucked him into its vortex.

Harry’s mood had been becoming gradually more excited and smugger the longer the praise went on.

“I think our little bookworm must simply be put out because Harry accidentally stole her thunder after she finally got a big scoop herself for once!” Fred said, shooting Ron and Hermione a strange, sly smile.

“Ahem!” Ron solemnly put his fist to his lips and gave a sharp cough in a solemn manner. “Oi, listen—Listen to me, you two, there’s nothing funny about this!”

However, Fred and George just looked at each other. Then, pulling exaggeratedly comical faces and fell into wild laughter, as they strolled off to count their clinking money bags which were fuller tonight, all while continuing to repeat Ron’s phrase “there’s nothing funny about this” mockingly under their breath.

“Don’t be angry, Hermione,” Ron said, glancing around at Fred and George’s departing backs before turning to look at the still-scowling Hermione. There was a tinge of sheepish embarrassment in his voice. “You know how those two are, always cracking stupid little jokes like that.”

Of course, Hermione’s stern, disapproving expression hadn’t entirely been because of Fred and George’s suggestive teasing. Still, Ron’s attempt at consoling her, however clumsy and fumbling, did soften her expressions a tiny bit. After another soft, weary sigh, she began making her way towards the crimson sofa by the fireplace. Ron hurried after her, following in her trail.

The common room was extremely lively, but everyone’s attention was on Harry, who had just accomplished a big feat. So, when Ron and Hermione sat down, the two of them looked at each other with somewhat unnatural expressions, as if there were only the two of them left here.

Gradually, a hint of unnatural redness crept onto the cheeks of both of them. Ron turned his gaze away in a fluster, looking at the blazing flames in the fireplace, and tugged at his collar. “Ahem, it’s really hot in here—”

Hermione just pursed her lips, not making a sound, and her silence made Ron even more uneasy. His gaze wandered and fell on Harry, who was surrounded by the crowd. He stared at Harry in silence for a while, then suddenly laughed and said, “He’s still so popular, isn’t he?”

“Not entirely—” Unexpectedly, Hermione actually responded. Her gaze leaped over Lavender’s head and pointed to the pale-faced girl leaning against the old cupboard.

“Oh, Ginny?” Ron looked over and also noticed Ginny, who was staring at Harry. Her extraordinarily pretty face had a lost expression, and even her usually fiery red hair seemed much duller.

“You’re right, Hermione. I dare say Ginny must have suffered quite a blow. To be honest, I didn’t expect her to be so obsessed with Harry—” Ron shrugged and said casually.

Hermione shot Ron a rather exasperated look at his careless choice of words, but restrained herself from scolding him further, simply pursing her lips and staying silent on the matter.

Nearly an hour later, Harry himself finally managed to remove himself from the wild crowd of well-wishers and plop down onto the sofa beside Hermione and Ron with a relieved sigh.

His thin cheeks were flushed, though whether that was from the butterbeer he’d likely been supplied with or the unfamiliar taste of so much positive male attention, it was hard to say. The corners of his lips were still twitching upwards and a rather dopey, crooked grin was lingering on his face as if he had really accomplished some impressive, heroic feat worthy of all the praise.

“What are you two talking about?” Harry plopped down beside Hermione; seemingly having thrown the questions he had brought out of the headmaster’s office to the back of his mind. He looked at Ron with a grin.

During the hour Harry was gone, Ron and Hermione had been completely awkward. They didn’t dare to touch on the topic of the Christmas ball at all. It was really tortuous. Ron didn’t know what Hermione was thinking. In any case, he had to rely on his strong willpower to stop himself from running away.

When Harry came back, the awkward atmosphere was instantly cleared. Ron let out a heavy sigh of relief. He also noticed that Hermione’s raised shoulders had slumped a little, but then she sat up straight again. The considerable curves of the girl’s upper body burned Ron’s gaze like a flame, making him quickly hold his breath and fix his eyes on Harry.

“How long are you going to be smug about this, I wonder—” Hermione pulled a long face and glared at Harry.

“Uh, what?” Harry said in a daze, rubbing his messy hair. But when his gaze met the seriousness and the look of exasperation in Hermione’s eyes, he shuddered, instantly sobering up. He immediately recalled some things before entering the common room. “I’m not being smug, Hermione—”

Okay, Harry understood now. Hermione was still unhappy about him accepting Fleur’s invitation. But Harry still felt a little puzzled. Why would Hermione be angry about this?

“It’s not my fault. It was Fleur who invited me,” Harry said, feeling a little aggrieved.

“Why can’t you use your—” Hermione took a sharp breath and glared at Harry angrily, wanting to ask him why he couldn’t use his brain. But in the end, she still restrained her emotions. Her tone softened a lot, but she still asked with an unpleasant expression, “When will you finally realize that Fleur is using you, Harry?”

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