Hogwarts: Dumbledore reigned over the wizarding world.

Chapter 62 Post-Match Leisure and Investigation

The defeated Gryffindor players quickly landed to check on Harry. Professor McGonagall also rushed over. After checking on him and confirming that Harry was alright, Professor McGonagall comforted everyone:

"Ladies and gentlemen, although we have failed, I have witnessed your indomitable spirit. Gryffindor should have the courage to admit its shortcomings and face its deficiencies..."

One of the chasers, Emily Spinnett, whispered, "If Harry hadn't fallen, we might have won."

Professor McGonagall overheard this and said sternly, "How did you win? Honestly, your performance during the game was absolutely terrible."

"The two Weasleys are in disarray, and Miss Spinnet, all three of you Chaser are girls, why are you trying to outdo the Slytherin boys in strength and stamina? I haven't seen you utilize your strengths."

Then she looked at Harry, her expression softening, and asked, "Harry, I think you lost control of the broom at the end, right?"

Harry nodded: "Yes, Professor."

When the fall occurred, Fred didn't catch him, but then brought his broom back.

"Leave it to me, I'll take it back and check it out. Alright, kids, go back and think carefully about what I just said. Don't push the problem onto others. Think about it, your opponents chose to save Harry first when victory was within their grasp."

On the way back to the locker room, Angelina said to the twins, "Hey, can you introduce me to your brother?"

Which younger brother are you asking about?

"Could it be Ronnie?"

"Don't play dumb, you know who I'm talking about!"

The twins trembled: "Oh my god, is she planning to get revenge on Vaughn?"

"It's very likely that Fred Vaughn must have disgusted her today."

"But it's also possible for hatred to turn into love!" the twins suddenly said in unison, winking at Angelina.

Aside from Emily, who was playing in the starting lineup for the first time and was a little dissatisfied, the defeat didn't dampen everyone's spirits too much.

Only Wood truly couldn't accept it.

When Harry left the locker room, he saw Wood, who had changed his clothes, return to the field.

He looked up at the sky, as if his soul was still flying there, still fighting.

This made Harry feel terrible, and he didn't dare go back to Gryffindor for fear of seeing more of this kind of scene—Gryffindor hadn't won a game in a long time, and everyone had thought that this year they could finally have their moment of glory.

Harry went to the sidelines to find Ron and Hermione, and the three of them decided to go to Hagrid's hut for a while.

"You're saying my broom went out of control because someone cursed me?"

"Yes, Harry," Ron said, still shaken. "Hagrid said flying brooms are very stable and usually have a lot of protection; only powerful dark magic can make them go out of control."

Harry was a little confused: "Who would target me? The man in the black robes?"

"Of course it's Snape..."

Before Ron could finish speaking, Hermione shook her head and said, "It wasn't him!"

Then she recounted how she went to the Slytherin stands and set fire to Professor Snape's clothes, which resulted in Harry's broom going out of control and causing an even more serious situation.

She said with a serious expression, "I think Professor Snape was saving Harry; the one who really cast the curse was someone else."

Harry and Ron couldn't help but look up at the sky, wondering if the sun was rising in the west today.

Both of them thought the conclusion was utter nonsense.

"I bet if he had the chance, Snape would have soaked Harry in his potion bottle. He'd save Harry? Don't be ridiculous, Hermione!"

"That's true!"

"I certainly won't trust a Slytherin..."

The group had already arrived at Hagrid's hut when Harry knocked on the door.

The moment Ron saw who opened the door, he immediately swallowed back the words he was about to say.

His face flushed red as he saw Vaughn smilingly sizing him up: "Ronald, what were you about to say?"

Ron grumbled, "What...what are you doing here? Weren't you guys going back to celebrate?"

Hagrid also came over, and seeing the three of them, he quickly greeted them, "Harry, Ron, Hermione, come in quickly... Vaughn asked me to help him gather some potion ingredients, and he happened to run into me after the competition, so I called him over."

Hagrid then pulled out three more cups and poured tea for everyone.

Then he went to the back of the hut and came back a short while later carrying a large bag.

"Vaughn, take a look, is this what you need?"

"Thank you, Hagrid."

Seeing Vaughn begin examining the materials, Hermione went over to help.

Harry then asked Hagrid again about what the three of them had talked about on the way there.

Hagrid confirmed, "That's right, Harry. Only powerful dark magic can affect flying brooms. After all, they're a common mode of transportation for wizards. If the protection isn't strong enough, who would dare ride in one?"

"But Snape could never be the one to cast curses..." he emphasized, then, seemingly feeling his argument wasn't convincing enough, he added Vaughn, "Vaughn, you must know, right? Snape is someone Dumbledore trusts."

Vaughn, who was examining the herbs, nodded upon hearing this and said, "Hermione is right, Harry. The fact that the broom didn't throw you away immediately after going out of control is probably because the professor was casting a counter-spell for you. He wouldn't harm you."

Harry found it hard to believe that Snape would actually save him.

He was curious as to why Vaughn was so certain.

But Vaughn just winked at him.

"Yes, Harry, I know why, but I don't think it's my place to tell you. Perhaps... you could ask Professor Snape yourself?"

Harry hurriedly shook his head; he knew without a doubt how Snape would berate him.

"Snape... he actually saved me?"

A question lingered in my mind.

Then Harry heard Hagrid clap his hands: "Alright, enough with the doubts about your professor, kids. How about staying for lunch today?"

The trio didn't care, of course; they were just looking for Hagrid to freeload off them anyway, since Harry, having lost the match, was a little hesitant to return to Gryffindor.

Vaughn thought for a moment and agreed, then asked, "Hagrid, have you finished the spices I gave you for Halloween?"

"Oh, no, I tried it once, brushing it on grilled meat, hmm..."

As if recalling something unimaginable, Hagrid's bearded face scrunched up.

Vaughn was speechless: "Didn't you read the instruction manual I wrote?"

"This...isn't it some kind of sauce called a base sauce?"

Ron burst out laughing.

Harry and Hermione looked a little confused, so Ron explained to them, "The broth is for hot pot; it's a dish Vaughn recreated from a Muggle magazine...you didn't know?"

The two shook their heads.

They grew up in Muggle society, but had never heard of it.

I never knew there was such a delicious food as hot pot in the world.

That night, Harry and Ron, stuffed from eating, helped each other back to Gryffindor and lay on their beds, sighing with happiness.

I enjoyed delicious food, and because of the competition, I didn't have to practice Occlumency today. If I hadn't lost the competition, today would have been perfect.

As Harry drifted off to sleep, he remembered what Vaughn had said: Snape wouldn't harm him.

Maybe...it's true?

Maybe Snape really was a good person?

He fell into a deep sleep.

At this moment, Vaughn arrived at the principal's office on the eighth floor.

"...It was probably not Tom who cast the curse on Harry."

"Professor Quirrell?"

"Yes." Dumbledore took off his glasses and rubbed his temples wearily. "He's been in a bad state lately. Tom's plan failed, and it probably tormented him a lot, which is why he cast a curse on Harry, trying to please his master."

As he spoke, he seemed lost in thought.

In fact, he was also hiding near the stands today, and his magical eyes saw Quirrell's life-giving light.

The light was so fragile, like a candle flickering in the wind.

"Alas, Quirinas was once a good boy, a genius with a wealth of theoretical knowledge. When I invited him to teach Defense Against the Dark Arts, he readily agreed, and even went out to gain practical experience..."

But it was that experience that changed Quirrell.

Dumbledore got up and walked to his desk, where a map was spread out, covered with markings.

Vaughn glanced at it: "You want to determine where he encountered Voldemort by analyzing his travel route?"

"Yes... Oh, it's alright now that Tom hasn't come back to life. But if he does come back to life someday, Vaughn, remember not to call him by his name casually."

"You also believe he cast a spell on his name?" Vaughn asked in surprise.

"You didn't experience that war, Vaughn." Old Dumbledore shook his head, put his glasses back on, and bent down to write and draw on the map, saying, "Many people grumbled at home, cursing the Dark Lord to vent their resentment and fear, thinking that no one else knew, but they would soon have Death Eaters break down their doors, capture them, and torture them."

"It's clear that Voldemort's name has become part of some kind of magic... Don't look at me like that, I don't know either. Maybe Voldemort found some obscure spell in a Death Eater's house, after all, he recruited so many pure-blood families back then."

Vaughn didn't ask any more questions.

Dumbledore continued the previous topic: "For the past month or so I have been secretly tracking Quirinus's travel route, and what I can confirm now is that after leaving England, he entered France through a portkey..."

As he spoke, he drew the route with a quill pen.

But that line only extended beyond France and did not continue.

Dumbledore paused writing, somewhat troubled: "Then he disappeared. I don't think this was his final destination. He probably disappeared to avoid filling out immigration forms, which is very tedious. Every time you have to fill out a bunch of forms and send your wand to the local Ministry of Magic for inspection and filing."

Vaughn nodded.

Arthur had mentioned this at home; the English Ministry of Magic handles many similar cases every year, with many wizards choosing to smuggle themselves in to avoid cumbersome entry procedures.

He looked at the map and carefully recalled his memories from his past life—thanks to memory magic, although he couldn't use mind control on himself, he could still make the memories that had faded over the past ten years clearer.

A moment later, he pointed to the Balkan Peninsula with his finger.

"You can look up these countries."

Dumbledore asked curiously, "Why?"

Of course, Vaughn couldn't say it directly, so he had already prepared an excuse: "There are many ferocious magical creatures over there. If Quirrell is going to gain practical experience, he will definitely go to Bulgaria and Romania in the Balkans."

"Bulgaria is home to vampires and Veela (the prototypes of these two magical creatures, whose real-world origins lie in the region), while Romania has Europe's largest dragon sanctuary."

There's one more thing he didn't say: their neighbor is Albania!

"Hmm..." Dumbledore pondered for a moment, then his brow relaxed and he said cheerfully, "You've done me a great favor, Vaughn, saving me a lot of time. It seems you've learned quite a bit from Newt."

Vaughn rolled his eyes at Old Deng.

The old man was still secretly keeping an eye on him; otherwise, he wouldn't have known that he had been in contact with Newt all along. The two exchanged letters about twice a week, mostly with Vaughn asking about magical creatures.

Perhaps they were getting to know each other better, because in his last letter, Newt even invited Vaughn to his house for Christmas.

The two then discussed Christmas plans, and Dumbledore thought Vaughn's proposed scope made a lot of sense.

He plans to take advantage of the holiday to visit the Balkans.

"Perhaps you should come with me?" Dumbledore said to Vaughn.

Vaughn immediately refused: "I have my own things to do!"

This wasn't an excuse; he had declined Newt's invitation because he needed to work on his new potion during the Christmas season.

Therefore, he didn't plan to go home, and even wrote letters to Molly and Arthur.

A few days later, an owl delivered a letter to him.

He was sitting at the Gryffindor table with Harry and the others—Harry didn't look too good; he had been mocked by Snape again in Potions class that day.

"Porter, I heard you lost, that's great news. I was always worried that your stupid brain would get hit by a moving ball and you'd become a complete idiot."

The veins on Harry's forehead bulged out.

After class, he complained that he was indeed a fool. Before class today, he had actually been fantasizing that Snape might actually be a good person, but he hadn't understood it before.

He told Vaughn, "I don't care if he's the Man in Black or not. He obviously hates me more than the Man in Black. Maybe he really was casting a counter-spell that day, but I think he just didn't want me to die at someone else's hands!"

The unexpected arrival of the letter finally stopped Harry from complaining. Vaughn quickly opened the envelope—he didn't want to get involved in the two's horrifying feud any longer, since he had already warned them.

After glancing at the letter, Vaughn handed it to Ron: "Mom and Dad want to take Ginny to Romania to visit Charlie during the holidays, so we all have to stay at school."

Ron was delighted: "That's fantastic!"

He doesn't want to go home. Isn't it better to have fun with his friends at school every day?

Harry's gloom vanished, and he laughed happily; he didn't want to go back to the Dursleys' house either.

Hermione was the only one who seemed a little down. Don't get me wrong, it's just a two-week vacation. She's just unhappy that she won't be able to go to the library anymore after she goes home.

(End of this chapter)