Amosta watched Harry Potter leave his office looking a bit disappointed, and in the end, he couldn't glean a single word about any trivial secrets that were not worth mentioning to outsiders.
Amosta didn't find it strange at all. The young wizard was naturally sensitive at this age, and as someone from Slytherin, he had no reason to keep secrets from Dumbledore the headmaster and trust a stranger instead.
Nevertheless, after the previous probing, Amosta had indeed confirmed that Potter had concealed some crucial information. If he had known this information, the situation would probably not have been so passive.
"Maybe, I should think of a way to gain his trust?"
Amosta stared at the flickering shadows on the ceiling, worriedly furrowing his brow. If the successor never revealed any signs, how would he know?
Amosta had once considered that maybe he could get some Polyjuice Potion to pretend to be Colin or Justin, spreading rumors that the injured young wizard had regained consciousness and provided crucial clues about the identity of the killer to the school, while he only needed to show up with a face of the person he was impersonating and hide in the school hospital without coming out.
That's a good idea, but there's a flaw: if Colin and Justin didn't see the face of the killer when they were petrified, this method might not scare off the attacker.
"Wait and see --"
Amosta drew his gaze back, he flicked his fingers at the wall of surveillance screens. The curtain behind pulled open silently, Amosta stared at the flickering shadows on the wall muttering to himself,
"If there's no progress, I'll just have to cling to the big shot group --"
.............
Harry left Mr. Blythe's office and headed towards the tower of Gryffindor. Originally, he planned to tell Hermione the conversation, but Harry thought carefully and then thought that there was no urgent need to borrow Hermione's wisdom.
He had already clarified the most crucial issue: Mr. Blythe would not easily believe rumors from within the school, and he would not lock anyone up in the castle without conclusive evidence. That was enough for Harry.
As for not telling Mr. Blythe about the terrifying voice and Dobby's warning, Harry had thought:
Since Mr. Blythe refused to clear his name, then even if he said these things out loud, it's unlikely that the results would change. In fact, it would make him look more suspicious.
Moreover, he had always believed that if anyone needed to know these things, it should be Headmaster Dumbledore--as he passed through the portrait hole of Fat Lady, Harry thought this.
Besides Percy, the rest of the Weasleys sat on a soft big sofa under a bright crystal chandelier. They saw Harry and immediately looked relieved, and then happily waved to him, which made Harry feel warm inside.
"How are you doing, Harry? Did Blythe give you a hard time because of Filch?" Ron stood up to hand Harry a glass of pumpkin juice.
"A bit better than I imagined, Ron," Harry smiled with a grin.
Twenty minutes later, when Harry told them the whole process of the conversation, the worried and nervous Weasleys' expressions relaxed quite a bit.
"Oh, that Investigator fellow seems a bit smarter than we thought, George. It looks like we'll have to adjust our plan," Fred muttered, but his expression seemed a bit disappointed, "We were all set to show him what we're made of!"
"No, no, Fred," Harry worriedly said, "Mr. Blythe is not like Locket that kind of windbag. He's not so easy to deal with!"
"Believe in the professionals, Harry," George said proudly, "We never miss!"
"What are you guys going to do?" Ron asked with enthusiasm, looking at George, "Throw a dung bomb in his office?"
When Harry said that he wouldn't be kicked out of the school for no reason, Ginny's pale and exhausted face, which looked like it hadn't slept for two weeks, returned some color. She put down her hand covering her chest and breathed a sigh of relief. However, her breathing became rapid again shortly after, indicating that she looked very tense.
"The Mr. Blythe said that he is monitoring the school, but how did he do it... I mean, he almost never steps out of his office?"
This is indeed a perplexing question, and Harry couldn't provide an answer either. But his intuition told him that Mr. Blythe wasn't lying, and they had discussed this issue for a long time. The eventual conclusion was likely related to the wall covered by a curtain.
"It seems we still have to go there, Fred!" George grinned at his brother with raised eyebrows at the end of the conversation.
"That's for sure, George. Besides us, probably no one can catch the opportunity to quietly sneak into his office!" Fred winked at George.
After everyone had left, Fred whispered to George,
"You think that the Mr. Blythe will also have one..."
"Shut up, Fred!" George watched Percy struggling to crawl into the common room and breathed out quickly, "By tomorrow, we will figure this out."
On Tuesday morning, the third-year Gryffindor class was Professor Flitwick's Charm class, and today he was introducing to the young wizards a spell that could make one laugh heartily -- the Jolly Jackstand spell.
"---At the end of the spellcasting movement, your wand needs to make a subtle upward flick, which is very important, gentlemen and ladies," Professor Flitwick stood next to the first-base books and spoke in a shrill voice, "Otherwise, when you wake up, you will find yourself lying on the floor with a black-haired macaque standing over your chest!"
"What are you two thinking about?"
Angelina noticed that Fred and George were not practicing spells at all; instead, they were bending their heads to peek at a piece of vellum. The yellowed paper was filled with dense, scrawling text that was moving back and forth.
"Spying on someone's privacy is a despicable thing, Citty, I don't want a despicable person to be my teammate~"
Fred turned his head and narrowed his eyes at Angelina, then whispered something to George, who immediately produced an orange-yellow candy from his sleeve.
"If I die because of this, Fred, remember to bury my body in Filch's office!" George said with a chuckle.
Three minutes later, the originally noisy classroom fell silent in an instant, with screams breaking the eardrums. George's two nostrils sprayed out fresh red liquid, and everyone was stunned. Professor Flitwick rushed over when he saw George's distorted face and the large bloodstains on Fred's robes. He also panicked.
"Fred...or, I mean, George, okay, is there anyone here who can explain to me what happened?"
"He's dying!" Fred supported the pale George, his face filled with grief, "Can you allow me to find a place to bury my dear brother?"
"No one will die, Weasley!" Professor Flitwick angrily said.
"Quickly take him to Madam Pomfrey's office, and if time permits, I hope you can come back to practice the Jolly Jackstand spell. This class is very important, Weasley, because..."
Professor Flitwick's words were cut off as he saw the two Weasleys leap up with newfound vitality, not even turning back as they sprinted out of the classroom, leaving Professor Flitwick standing amidst a pool of blood, disoriented.
As it was during class time, there were few wandering wizards in the castle. Fred and George rushed down four floors, and when they got to the fourth floor, Fred proposed that he go investigate Mr. Blythe's office while George went to the infirmary for a simple treatment.
"This stuff we haven't figured out an antidote for yet, George. Maybe it will drain all the blood from your body!"
"No way, Fred, you can't take all the credit alone!" George directly ran up to the third floor, holding his nose that was gurgling blood.
Based on the observation over the past few days, Amoshta Blythe only leaves his mysterious office from 10:30 am to 11 am in the morning, and from 4 pm to 4:30 pm in the afternoon. He first goes to the kitchen to find something to eat, then goes to the Prefect's bathroom for a bath to relieve fatigue, and finally, he rushes back.
Breaking the protective spell on the office door was much easier than the twins had anticipated; a simple Alohomora spell did the trick.
The twins crouched down and crept into the room. The simple furnishings of the office were easy to see through at a glance and did not require special attention. Fred and George stood in front of the black curtain, excitedly staring at each other.
"Count down from three, let's lift the veil of mystery together!"
ps: Please vote and invest, thank you!
