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Hermione didn't understand why Professor Bleane showed that expression when he saw Professor Lockhart's unpublished manuscript. Could it be that Professor Lockhart's new book wasn't exciting,
disappointing Professor Bleane? When Hermione walked into the common room through the Fat Lady's portrait, the confusion on her face hadn't completely dissipated.
It was already very late, and the large common room was quiet, with hardly anyone around. Only Harry and Ron were still curled up on the soft sofa near the fireplace, dozing off. Needless to say, they must have been waiting for her.
How could life be lonely?
Hermione pursed her lips slightly as she walked towards Harry and Ron, this thought flashing through her mind.
"Why haven't you two gone to bed yet?"
Though she knew they were waiting for her, Hermione still raised her delicate eyebrows, a haughty expression on her face, as she approached.
"Why else? Of course, we were worried you'd get so engrossed in that delightful work that you wouldn't be able to pull yourself away, and thus forget dinner!"
Harry and Ron, who had been snoring, were startled awake by the voice. They rubbed their sleepy eyes, and Ron sat up, grumbling discontentedly.
Hermione sat opposite them, looking at the table laden with food. A faint, almost imperceptible smile played on her lips. Although she wasn't hungry, her heart felt warm.
At this moment, Hermione noticed a black notebook tucked under a few slices of toast. Judging by its worn cover, the notebook seemed quite old.
Noticing where Hermione's gaze was directed, Ron shrugged indifferently, giving Harry a look, signaling him to explain.
"—This afternoon, Ron and I were on our way back to the dormitory. When we passed the second floor, we found Moaning Myrtle throwing a tantrum in that bathroom. Out of curiosity, we went in and found the owner of this notebook inside. It's Tom Riddle!"
Harry emphasized this, believing Hermione would understand what he was trying to convey. "Ron thought this thing might be dangerous and suggested I throw it away."
"Throw it away?"
Hermione, forgetting her fatigue, looked excited. She picked up the notebook and meticulously examined it inside and out. "What are you talking about, Ron? There might be clues in here!"
"Well, he certainly hid the clues cleverly enough," Ron said. "Maybe it's shy about being seen. I really don't understand what you're keeping it for, Harry."
"I want to know why someone wanted to throw it away," Harry mused. "Also, I'm very curious about how Riddle received his Award for Special Services to Hogwarts."
"There are plenty of possibilities, Harry," Ron said with an offhand tone. "Maybe he got thirty O.W.L.s, or saved a teacher from the Giant Squid's enormous tentacles, or maybe he murdered Myrtle, which would certainly please everyone."
The three of them knew that the Chamber of Secrets had been opened fifty years ago, a student had died, and the culprit was expelled. And it was precisely at that time that Riddle received his Award for Special Services. It didn't take much imagination to figure out there must be some connection.
Hermione fiddled with the notebook back and forth for a long time, but couldn't get a single word to appear on the blank pages. Finally, she had to regretfully give up.
"Perhaps we should give this to Professor Bleane or Headmaster Dumbledore. Wizards like them would surely be able to uncover the notebook's secrets."
Hermione frowned, offering her suggestion.
However, this reasonable proposal was unexpectedly met with strong opposition from Harry.
"Not many people are talking about this in school anymore, Hermione. I don't want to stir things up again. If, and I mean if, the heir comes out to act again, then I'll let you give this to Professor Bleane!"
In truth, this was merely a pretext. Harry couldn't even explain to himself why he didn't just throw Riddle's diary away. The actual situation was that in the following days, despite knowing the diary was empty, he would always take it out thoughtfully when no one was around, hoping to discover something within.
A new week began, and February officially entered its latter half. Recently, the hot topic at school was Professor Bleane, who had suddenly become the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher without any warning.
No matter where you went, you could hear the young wizards discussing the astonishing display of skill he showed in his first and second-year classes, as well as the classification of power levels for various wizarding schools of thought in his fifth, sixth, and seventh-year classes. In contrast, the methods Amostas taught in class for dealing with dark wizards and dangerous creatures were rarely discussed.
In every house, young wizards would emphatically declare that their certain relative possessed the strength of a 'Court Wizard', as if the wizarding world had suddenly returned to ancient times, where without two Court Wizards guarding the home, one would be too embarrassed to greet others outside. As for wizards at the 'Saint' level, no young wizard dared to "touch that porcelain" (a Chinese idiom meaning to falsely claim a connection or to provoke someone far superior).
"Dumbledore is a Saint, that's beyond a doubt!"
Hufflepuff's Macmillan declared unequivocally to his housemate Hannah Abbott, as if he had already confirmed it with Headmaster Dumbledore and Professor Bleane. "As for Professor Bleane, I guess he is too."
Macmillan spoke with conviction. "Think about it, Hannah, ever since Professor Bleane came to Hogwarts as an investigator, the Heir of Slytherin hasn't dared to act again. I guess he must not be confident enough to deal with two 'Saints' at once!"
Macmillan's statement even found a large market among the young wizards. Because of a schedule change, the third and fourth years, who only had Professor Bleane's class in the third week, started their Tuesday afternoon lesson with Fred and George, the two brothers, jokingly asking,
"Professor Bleane, are you a 'Saint'?"
Amostas on the platform looked at the two eccentric Weasleys with a half-smile, never expecting to encounter an opportunity for 'revenge' so soon!
"So, Messrs. Weasley, would you like to demonstrate to everyone how to defeat a 'Saint'?"
Ooh, ooh, ooh!
The Great Hall suddenly erupted in roars like waves under a typhoon. In the Hufflepuff section, which loved to watch a good show, fourth-year Cedric Diggory immediately jumped onto a table and shouted to the twins,
"Show everyone what you've got, Weasleys!"
"Go on up there and show off, Fred, George, don't embarrass Gryffindor!"
Many within Gryffindor House also chimed in, Angelina, Alicia, and Katie laughing as they slapped the twins' shoulders hard.
"This is definitely revenge, Fred!"
George whispered through gritted teeth as the two of them, trembling, helped each other onto the platform. "At Hogsmeade last time, Professor Bleane definitely recognized us both!"
This duel ended much faster than anyone expected.
As soon as they got on stage, before Professor Bleane even announced the start, the twins, with an unspoken understanding, exchanged a glance and immediately scattered in two directions, running to surround Amostas from left and right.
"Ready, Fred!" George shouted.
"Locked and loaded, brother!" Fred responded loudly, a determined look on his face.
Amostas watched with a grin as the two little rascals pulled out two bags of Dungbombs from under their robes. Before they could even make a move, he suddenly brandished his wand!
Bang, bang, bang!
The sight and smell of a hundred Dungbombs exploding simultaneously were exceptionally 'moving'. Fred and George, drenched in foul-smelling goo, 'wailed' and fell to the ground, looking as miserable as if they had been hit by the Cruciatus Curse!
"Let's go down together, Professor!"
But unexpectedly, moments later, the twin brothers simultaneously scrambled back to their feet. They glared fiercely at Professor Bleane, charging at him with unwavering courage!
If Amostas were to be intimidated by such petty tricks, then his years in the underground world would have been for nothing.
He still wore a smiling expression, slowly shaking his wrist. A red orb, the size of a Quaffle, imbued with crimson electrical light and trailing a fiery wake, emerged from the tip of his wand and floated above his head.
Whoosh, whoosh, whoosh!
Before Fred and George could even get within ten feet, the red orb above Professor Bleane's head suddenly burst forth with brilliant light. Dozens of red beams shot out in all directions. Each of the rapidly approaching Weasley brothers took at least two or three beams to the chest. Immediately after, their eyes rolled back, and they collapsed unconscious on the ground!
"Stunning Spell — Crowd Control Edition."
Amostas looked down at the wide-eyed young wizards and said with a smile, "Excuse me, could any student help carry them both to the Hospital Wing?"
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