Nevertheless, Harry finally decided to follow Hermione's advice and talk to Artemus Breein, otherwise he would probably be driven mad by strange looks and terrifying gossip long before the monster in the secret chamber turned someone into a stone statue.
He went back to his dormitory, changed into a clean outfit, and desperately combed his hair straight in front of the mirror, as this would make him look less rebellious.
"You're wasting your breath, dear!" The mirror in the dormitory, with golden flowers embedded in it, said with a gasping voice.
"Thank you for reminding me!" Harry responded with an irritated expression.
Harry went to Mr. Bree's office specifically at dinnertime so that he wouldn't have to face too many smug looks on the way, but when he reached the third floor, he unexpectedly bumped into the castle's headmaster, Argus Filch.
Filch seemed to have just cried a big tear, his frighteningly swollen eyes were red and swollen, and the snot hanging from his ugly nose had reached down to his double chin. When he saw Harry, he immediately straightened his embarrassed expression and stared at him ferociously like an injured hyena.
"Someone will get what they deserve, Potter, soon enough!"
"What do you mean, Mr. Filch..."
Harry's voice was so weak that it seemed as if someone had clamped their hands around his throat, he desperately wanted to know what Mr. Filch meant, but unfortunately, after staring at him and letting out a series of cold laughs, Mr. Filch just left directly.
There's no doubt that Filch was going to report himself.
Harry couldn't deceive himself that things were not like this, his heart was pounding so loudly that he wanted to leave directly, because he was afraid that the investigating officer had already accepted Filch's accusation and his behavior of going to Filch's office was like walking into a trap.
However, he still knocked on the door of Bree's office, because the other party was a tough guy who could get in touch with Dumbledore in fifth grade. If he decided to send himself to prison, besides the headmaster Dumbledore, Harry couldn't think of anyone who had the ability to save himself.
After receiving permission to enter, the door of the office opened itself. Harry stood at the doorway, looking around with a heart in his throat, fearing that at any moment a rope might fly over and tie him up.
Besides Dumbledore's round office with its distinctive features, Mr. Bree's office was the largest one that Harry had ever seen. Of course, there was nothing unusual about it, as it was originally a classroom converted into an office.
The fireplace on the wall opposite the bay window made the room warm and cozy. The wall closest to the door held a desk, bookshelf, and a simple bed, and there was an unusual smell in the air, as if Mr. Bree had been brewing potions in the room.
The most striking feature of the room was the wall to the right as you entered, which was entirely covered by a huge black curtain. Beyond it, there was a faint glow visible, and for some reason, Harry suddenly thought of the cinema in the Muggle world. Although he had never been taken to see a movie with the Dursleys, he had seen one or two on television.
"So, you're just going to stand there and talk to me, Mr. Potter?" Amos calmly smiled behind the desk.
"Oh, sorry, Mr. Bree." Harry quickly closed the door and walked in, not forgetting to stammer an explanation on his way to the desk. "I was just a bit curious about that wall..."
"Understandable," Amos said with a smile, motioning for Harry to sit down while he walked over to the fireplace to make tea.
"I don't have any good drinks to entertain you, if you don't mind, some tea, Mr. Potter--"
As Amos walked back with the tea, Harry was again attracted by the frame on Amos' desk. The photograph inside showed an elderly man and Amos' together, and there was little to say about the elderly man, he must be a close relative of Amos.
What struck Harry as odd was that the Amos Bree in the photograph, who was about Percy's age, looked a bit off.
"Thank you."
Harry took the steaming cup of tea with a mixture of trepidation and curiosity, glancing briefly at Amos' slightly haggard appearance and realizing why he had felt off.
Because the Amos Bree in the photograph, from his school days, had a pair of brown eyes similar to Hermione's, but the man standing in front of him, the investigating officer, had a marvelous lavender hue in his eyes.
"Is it a magical effect?" Harry guessed a little hazy, but then he snapped out of it. "It's not the time to think about this."
"Are you wondering why my eye color seems strange?"
Amos held his tea cup against the back of his chair, and the mist made his expression a little blurred, but from the tone of his voice, it wasn't a questioning tone that was laced with offense.
"Yes... no, it's not!" Harry awkwardly said.
Amos chuckled at the nervous wizard across from him. No matter how famous Harry Potter was or how bright his future seemed, for now, he still showed a naivety and innocence that hadn't yet escaped Amos' perception of a second-year student.
"Guess you've already met Mr. Filch, haven't you?" Amos sipped the bitter tea with a small mouth, his voice very mild.
When Mr. Bree began to speak, Harry suddenly remembered the sudden encounter he had with him, along with Ron and Hagrid, during the holiday break, near McGonagall's office. Ron's description of him at the time was very similar to that of Dumbledore, but Harry didn't really think about it at the time. However, now he found Ron's view on him to be somewhat acceptable.
Unlike Professor Snape or Professor McGonagall who always carried a stern aura wherever they went, Mr. Bree's most intimidating quality was his inclusive and gentle demeanor. It was a natural confidence that brought with it a level of dominance that could not help but suppress any thoughts of rebellion in one's mind.
"Yes, Mr. Bree, I saw Filch... he looked like he had just been crying," Harry hesitated and nodded.
"What do you think he was crying about, Mr. Potter?"
Amos blew away the floating leaves on the surface of the tea and asked curiously.
Harry's gaze flickered over the collar of Amos' worn-out wizard's robe, but he did not speak, for this question did not require an answer.
Seeing that the atmosphere was getting pretty intense, Amos wasn't about to scare Harry anymore. He put down his tea cup and was ready to come out with it, but he didn't expect Harry to suddenly gather his courage. Harry, with his shining and resolute emerald eyes, stared directly into Amos' eyes.
"Mr. Bree, do you also think that I... I'm the descendant of Slytherin, and that I opened the secret chamber?"
PS: The nucleic acid test result was abnormal, and I have to go for a single tube test again, it's driving me crazy.
