"Wes, aren't you going to watch the Quidditch match?"
Hagrid looked at Wes, who was sprawled comfortably on the carpet, and asked curiously.
Since his last visit, Hagrid's cozy and unique treehouse had become Wes's perfect retreat for relaxation.
He sometimes focused on reading various books, or concentrated on brewing Potions, and whenever he felt tired, he would come here to rest.
Perhaps it was because of the dazzling array of rare and varied materials displayed in the treehouse; even just quietly observing them was enough to bring immense satisfaction.
However, every time Wes came, he would thoughtfully bring a few bottles of high-quality fine wine.
Hagrid casually picked up a bottle of red wine, and with a flick of his finger, the cork shot out with a "whoosh."
He guzzled it down without a word, and in just a few mouthfuls, the large bottle of red wine was empty, with wine stains still speckled on his thick beard.
Just then, the door, made of sturdy wood, was suddenly pushed open, and Harry, Ron, and Hermione burst in, looking hurried and flustered.
"Hagrid, Harry was almost killed today!" Hermione shouted anxiously.
"That's right!" Ron echoed, his voice full of tension.
The three of them couldn't help but shout.
Hagrid stared with his still hazy small eyes, his face full of bewilderment: "What? What are you talking about? I don't understand anything."
He didn't hold the red wine bottle steady in his hand.
It fell to the ground with a "thud," and the red wine gurgled out of the bottle.
Fang, who was enjoying Wes's massage nearby, heard the sound and immediately rushed over excitedly, happily and greedily licking the red wine flowing onto the ground.
Seeing this, Hagrid quickly bent down to pick up the red wine bottle, mumbling, "Hey, you mischievous little thing, this is good wine, it can't be wasted like this by you."
At this moment, his attention was completely diverted to the red wine and Fang.
"Red wine?" Hermione asked sternly, hands on her hips: "Hagrid, I remember clearly, you were supposed to be patrolling near the stadium today, why are you hiding at home drinking now!"
"Uh, this..." Hagrid's small eyes darted around, and a thought suddenly struck him, he slapped his head: "Wes needed me for something, we were discussing important matters, I wasn't skipping work without reason."
It was only then that the three of them noticed Wes lying on the carpet.
"Professor Erwin!!!" The three looked at each other and shouted in unison, not expecting to meet the new Professor here.
Wes waved casually at the three: "Don't mind me, just pretend I don't exist."
"By the way, didn't you just say Harry was almost harmed? What exactly happened?" Hagrid asked anxiously, his tone urgent.
Hermione didn't even stop to catch her breath, clearly recounting the thrilling scene that occurred on the Quidditch pitch in detail, and confidently deducing that Professor Snape was the prime suspect.
"Impossible!!!" Hagrid exclaimed, waving his hands excitedly after hearing this, "Professor Snape would never do anything to harm Harry."
"But he really seems to dislike me very much."
Harry frowned, looking aggrieved, clearly trusting Hermione's deduction.
"That's right, I saw Professor Snape casting a spell on Harry's broom with my own eyes, and after I set his robes on Fire, the broom immediately returned to normal."
Hermione added eagerly, her expression serious and earnest.
"That's right, it must be like this." Ron nodded vigorously beside her, echoing with a firm gaze.
Wes listened to their conversation and couldn't help but let out a chuckle.
Hermione, like a proud swan, held her head high and said indignantly, "Professor Erwin doesn't believe my theory. I've read several Sherlock Holmes detective stories seriously, and my reasoning can't be wrong."
"Read fewer of those detective novels," Wes said, shaking his head helplessly.
Hermione was momentarily stunned, clearly not expecting Wes to have heard of Sherlock Holmes as well.
"I was born in the Muggle World, so of course I know about these things," Wes said, sitting up straight and speaking seriously.
Hermione was still unconvinced and plopped down heavily next to Wes.
"Tell me why it wouldn't be Professor Snape?"
Harry, like a wounded fawn, timidly came to Wes's side, looking at him with pitiful, pleading eyes.
"Just be kind for once," Wes sighed helplessly, then sat cross-legged.
"First of all, Professor Snape is a Potion Master. Do you know what a Potion Master is?"
The three little ones looked at each other, all shaking their heads.
"Currently, in the entire Great Britain Magic World, the only universally recognized Potion Master is Professor Snape."
After hearing Wes's explanation, the three little ones' eyes widened in surprise, and their mouths unconsciously formed an "O" shape.
"So he's such an amazing person."
Although Harry wasn't entirely sure what a Potion Master specifically meant, he knew there was only one in all of Britain, which was enough to indicate Professor Snape's extraordinary abilities.
Hermione, however, still said unconvinced, "This only shows that Professor Snape has extremely deep attainments in Potions, but it doesn't completely rule out his suspicion."
Ron nodded in agreement beside her.
Wes sighed helplessly: "I really don't know why you have such a big prejudice against Professor Snape."
"Since Professor Snape is a Potion Master, wouldn't it be an easy task for him to concoct a deadly poison? Why would he cast a spell on Harry's broom in broad daylight? Wouldn't that expose himself too easily?"
Hermione was at a loss for words for a moment, because what Wes said was indeed reasonable.
"But Harry's broom did show abnormal conditions at the time."
Hermione frustratingly tugged at her hair, a clue she had so painstakingly discovered was just denied like that.
"Then someone else cast a dark spell on the broom, and Professor Snape was actually casting a counter-spell. He was secretly protecting Harry."
"Protect me? Professor Snape?" Harry looked incredulous, his eyes wide.
"The culprit is at the scene," Hermione said definitively, but then her eyes became confused again, "Who could it be?"
The three little ones' hopeful gazes all turned to Wes.
"How would I know." Wes spread his hands helplessly, "I wasn't at the scene, I didn't witness what happened with my own eyes."
The three came with great expectations, but ultimately could only return disappointed.
"Wes, can you help them?" Hagrid's voice was somewhat choked, full of heartache as he said, "Harry is a poor child."
"Isn't there Dumbledore? He's always been very concerned about Harry."
"That's right, Dumbledore is still here." As a loyal fan of Dumbledore, Hagrid firmly believed that Dumbledore would be able to solve any problem.
After speaking, Wes slumped back onto the carpet, relaxing his body, and continued chatting intermittently with Hagrid.