The mastermind behind Hogwarts

Chapter 112 Mua~mua~

"Prefect! I need you to take all students back to their respective common rooms. Morning classes are temporarily canceled."

Dumbledore finally arrived, followed by the heads of the four houses. Diana also arrived, and upon hearing Dumbledore's order, her expression changed. Her class that morning had been canceled again.

Since the start of the school year, only one Defense Against the Dark Arts class has been held, but Diana hasn't said anything about it.

The prefects of the four houses, or perhaps only three—the Hufflepuff prefects were all in the kitchen.

"Cedric," Moriarty said, "you will lead the Hufflepuffs back to your common room."

"Me?" Cedric pointed to the tip of his nose with his index finger and said doubtfully.

It wasn't a questioning of Moriarty's decision—Dumbledore and Sprout said nothing—but rather a doubt about his own ability to handle the job.

"Yes, it's you." Moriarty gave Cedric a stern look, giving Cedric the illusion that he was facing Professor McGonagall. He then became resolute, while Moriarty walked towards Dumbledore.

"Professors, I think this is unusual!" Moriarty exclaimed. Dumbledore nodded solemnly. "I'm glad you think so too! In fact, we just came back from the university hospital."

Moriarty's eyes narrowed: "Has something happened to Keith?"

"It's worse than that." Professor Snape tossed a vial of potions, his tone somber. "Last night in Potions class, a fourth-year Slytherin girl reverse-engineered the antidote, concocting a poison in the middle of the night and tricking her friend into drinking it. Now both of them are in the school hospital."

Moriarty took the potion bottle, uncorked it, and sniffed it gently. Despite his carefulness, he still smelled a pungent odor.

The taste was like pickled cabbage that had been fermented for a hundred years, drilling into Moriarty's brain through his nasal cavity, and it hurt like being pricked on the skin with a needle!

Moriarty quickly used his brain-blocking technique to resist the poison, a glint of shrewdness flashing in his eyes: "You and Horace couldn't possibly have brewed such a potent brain-targeting poison in just one night!"

How could a fourth-grade witch possibly do that? And do the opposite of the antidote? It sounds like going on a trip and discovering Voldemort—utterly terrifying and unbelievable!

"We had the same thought as you, and to find out, we searched their memories for this poison—there was no record of it, no warning whatsoever! It appeared out of thin air, yet the poison was there, and it almost killed my student!" Dumbledore walked over, took the potion bottle, and carefully placed it inside his robes.

The white wizard's eyes were cold as he swept across the four dining tables. "Now breakfast is in trouble again, seriously damaging the relationship between the academies."

Professor Sprout already knows the whole story from her students. Moriarty, would you like to come with us to the kitchen to see what Miss Tonks is up to?

Moriarty nodded. "Let's go."

To be honest, he wasn't worried about Tonks' safety. He saw Professor Sprout check the three dishes and they were all free of poison, which meant that Tonks really did it on a whim. But why would she do that?

This is what everyone is most concerned about.

Of course, Diana didn't seem so concerned. On the way, she asked Moriarty with a smile, "I'm a new professor. What should I do if I encounter students deliberately skipping class?"

Moriarty knew she was referring to the Defense Against the Dark Arts class on Monday afternoon, but that was the time Moriarty made his bet with Nicolas Flamel, and Moriarty had locked himself in his dormitory, so how could he go to class?

At the time, the entire school and the whole of Hogsmeade were trying their best to help Moriarty, and the professors knew what was important and what was urgent, but these words were not meant to be spoken to an elf.

Elves are a stubborn to the point of being obsessive, a trait that began with the famous "Lady of the Lake," Vivian, who fell in love with Merlin and then imprisoned him.

"I suggest you ask the headmaster directly," Moriarty replied. Diana pursed her lips; everyone could see that Dumbledore was in a bad mood. Would she go and provoke him?

Will do!

Under Moriarty's surprised gaze, Diana walked to Dumbledore's side, her voice no longer soft and sweet but becoming magnetic: "What's happening in the castle is similar to what's happening where I am, isn't it? You'd better make plans soon."

Dumbledore suddenly stopped and shook his head: "It's not that bad yet. I believe in my student."

What are they playing a guessing game with?

Moriarty glanced at the four deans beside him and found them looking bewildered.

Diana didn't say anything more and retreated to Moriarty's side. Soon, everyone went to the kitchen, but the little badgers were so engrossed in cooking that they didn't notice them.

But Moriarty and the others suddenly felt heavy-hearted, not for any other reason than the pools of blood that came into view.

There were dozens of snakes on the ground, cut into several pieces, lying there twitching.

On the table was a plucked owl, stabbed several times, its two claws twitching tremblingly.

On the wall, there was another image: Tonks was holding a black snake in his left hand and a brown owl's wing in his right, while a floating knife was automatically dismembering the two poor little creatures.

The Hufflepuff students, in small groups, quickly prepared snake soup, roasted owls, and braised lion's head meatballs. Moriarty smelled the aroma; it smelled quite good.

"Merlin! My child!" Professor Sprout hurried to the midst of the badger cubs, pressing her hand on Tonks's wrist. "What's wrong?"

"Oh, it's Professor Sprout!" Tonks turned around and hugged her dean. Moriarty and the others noticed her dark circles and bloodshot eyes, but she cheerfully said, "I'm cooking for everyone! Have you tried it?"

The other badger cubs seemed to be startled awake; they raised their heads and waved enthusiastically, as if they were restaurant owners and chefs welcoming guests.

Professor Sprout opened his mouth, but could not utter a word.

Dumbledore's brow furrowed even more. With a gentle wave of his hand, the bloodstains in the kitchen vanished instantly, and the surviving black snake and owl broke free from the badgers' control, scattering in fright.

The black snake and owls that weren't killed must have done something incredibly good in their past lives. Moriarty greeted the black snake in Parseltongue, while Professor McGonagall transformed into a tabby cat, trying to soothe the owls.

"Oh? Moriarty! You've come too?" Tonks ran up to Moriarty, and the black snakes slithered away in fright, unable to be controlled even by Moriarty's snake language!

"Nymph!" Moriarty's tone became more serious, but he saw Tonks suddenly jump on him, hooking her arms around his neck and her legs around his waist, hanging on Moriarty!

"Little junior~ Hehehe, mua!" Tonks gave Moriarty a big kiss on the left cheek.

"Mua~" She gave him another big kiss on his right cheek and chuckled, "Did you eat the snake soup I made for you? I heard you like dragon soup, so I made it especially for you!"

Although I don't have a fire dragon, finding a few snakes is still quite easy! How does it compare to dragon soup?

Hehe, I'll make it for you every day from now on! Do you want some? Do you want some?

Tonks smiled, his eyes narrowing, as he looked at Moriarty with amusement.

"Something's wrong with you, Nymph! Do you know that?" Moriarty let the drool on his cheek dry. He had to admit that Nymph's little mouth was quite sweet, but she was too unrestrained. This wasn't normal!

He grabbed Tonks' arms, trying to put her down, but Tonks held on even tighter. "No, I won't! Tell me first if you want to drink or not!"

Tonks, unlike her usual dashing self, pouted and acted coquettishly, her hair turning pink. Moriarty knew this color meant she was happy.

But Moriarty and the professors were not happy. Diana snorted, "It seems that the one who started all this trouble was just trying to make dragon soup for her junior schoolmate!"

Moriarty, what a thoughtful senior! Hmm? Perhaps you could ask her how she explains braised lion's head meatballs and roasted owl?

"I forbid you to speak to Moriarty!" Tonks said domineeringly, hooking her arms around Moriarty's neck and pulling herself into his embrace. With a slightly annoyed look, she yelled at Diana, "You wicked teacher! I knew you were up to no good! I dare say you've been eyeing Moriarty for a while now. What's that saying? An old cow eating young grass! Ah, yes, that's it!"

If Moriarty couldn't smell alcohol, he assumed Tonks must be drunk, but Diana sneered, "How interesting, you blurted out your true feelings. Looks like you're quite poisoned!"

"Poisoned?" Moriarty looked at Diana, then at Dumbledore, his gaze lingering between them. "What exactly happened?"

"We'll talk about that later," Dumbledore sighed. "The key now is, how do we stop them?"

As they were talking, the badgers summoned the black snake again and continued making snake soup and braised lion's head meatballs, but the owl was gone.

Upon seeing this, Tonks shouted, "How can there be no owl? Those chubby little Scottish chickens with round heads and faces are the soul of these three dishes!"

"Moriarty, you know what? Ever since you started teaching house-elves how to cook Chinese food, I've been secretly watching you."

Moriarty tried to put her down, but she clung to the robe and wouldn't let go.

"During summer vacation, I bought a Chinese cookbook. Today, in addition to snake soup, I also wanted to make chicken soup, but there were no chickens in the castle, so I had to use an owl instead!"

"What do you think? Isn't it a brilliant idea!" Tonks smiled proudly, "After making the owl soup, I tasted it. It's delicious, really delicious, super delicious!"

Look, it's right there. I hadn't even had a chance to bring it out before you arrived. Let me bring it over for you to try!

Tonks finally jumped off Moriarty, and Professor McGonagall, now back in human form, saw her bring over a bowl of soup and, patting her chest, lamented, "The 137th! Tonks Nymphadora! You've killed 137 owls!"

(End of this chapter)