Bring a fairy tale to Hogwarts!

Chapter 88 Night Patrol

Meanwhile, by the time Harry returned to the common room, it was already quite late. He hadn't realized it while in the Divination room, but as he walked out, he noticed that only a handful of students remained in the school corridors, as curfew was approaching.

He hurried back to the Gryffindor common room.

Ron and Hermione were waiting for him in the dimly lit common room. When he returned, they were still doing their homework, but Ron had unknowingly fallen asleep until Harry rushed over with a few "thumps," jolting him awake.

"Huh? Harry, what's wrong?" he asked groggily.

"Wake up, wake up, Ron!" Harry exclaimed excitedly. "Didn't we just learn about Nicolas Flamel and the Philosopher's Stone from Hagrid before Christmas? Now I understand everything!"

"Huh? The Philosopher's Stone? But didn't you just go to see Professor Victor? What kind of magic did you practice?"

"Magic isn't the point—."

Harry shook his head, glossing over what was probably the most important thing tonight, and focused on the Philosopher's Stone. He told Ron and Hermione about the words and prophecies he had heard while practicing spells, then nervously and excitedly paced to the fireplace.

"So on Halloween, Snape wanted to steal what Fluffy was guarding—the Philosopher's Stone! Voldemort must have wanted him to get his hands on that stone to complete his plan—he might not actually be completely dead—."

"Don't say that name again!"

Ron shuddered and whispered in fear, as if worried that Voldemort would hear him.

Hermione also seemed frightened and worried. She gripped her Transfiguration homework tightly, but still tried to think of something to answer Harry:

"Harry, the professors at the school are all vetted by the Ministry of Magic, so they shouldn't be as bad as you think—besides, Professor McGonagall has said that divination and prophecy are a very imprecise form of magic."

"Professor Victor's divinations have never been wrong," Harry insisted.

"But he didn't say that. And has Harry ever done any divination?" Ron said, puzzled.

Harry was speechless. He wanted to say something to refute Ron, but then he remembered—he didn't seem to have ever seen Professor Victor perform a divination. It was just that Professor Victor always acted as if he knew everything, making it hard not to believe him.

Of course, he wouldn't disbelieve the prophecy he heard just because of Ron's rebuttal.

His scar was still aching then—it had never hurt before, only throbbing when he remembered that green light from his childhood…

That must be a symbol of Voldemort.

Seeing Harry's expression, Hermione knew he hadn't listened to her. She shook her head helplessly and said again:

"Well, Harry, even if Snape tries to steal the Philosopher's Stone, what can we do? You heard Professor Victor say it yourself: the Philosopher's Stone is perfectly safe, and Fluffy is still protecting it."

"".I have no idea."

Harry finally hesitated. He sat down on the small sofa in the common room and began to think.

"But—Snape will definitely steal the Philosopher's Stone. He'll find a way to get through to Fluffy and that trapdoor..."

We must keep a close eye on him to prevent him from gathering any relevant intelligence.

On the other hand, Victor did not immediately take any action regarding the Philosopher's Stone.

The matter of the stone needs to be considered carefully. If the thief doesn't make a move, he naturally won't either (he's a law-abiding citizen). At most, he'll just gather some relevant information, just as Harry guessed.

But tonight, he actually has one more thing to do.

Night patrol.

Night patrols weren't originally a professor's job. But since the Halloween incident, the school's patrol system has become more stringent. Each professor is required to patrol once during the first half of the night, not only to prevent creatures from the Forbidden Forest from sneaking into the school, but also to catch any students still wandering outside.

At eleven o'clock, after Harry left, Victor emerged from the dimly lit divination room. He carried a lantern, the pale light illuminating his sinister face.

Accompanying him on night patrol was Filch, the Hogwarts school warden.

"...Have you heard about those two Weasleys?"

1

Filch led Victor slowly forward with respect, speaking in a somber tone. His brow furrowed deeply, as if he were referring to something: "Which two Weasleys?"

"Fred and George, those two troublemakers," Filch said. "I heard from Professor McGonagall that their grades have improved dramatically lately. It's so unlike them."

"That matter," Victor said casually, "maybe they suddenly realized they needed to study."

"You really don't understand them, Professor," Filch said gruffly. "Even if they're both sent home tomorrow, there's absolutely no way they'd study. They must have sneaked out in the middle of the night to read the restricted section of books, or they must have snuck out somewhere to buy an automatic quill pen to get their current grades."

"I spoke with Professor McGonagall yesterday, hoping we could thoroughly investigate them."

"And then?" Victor asked.

"As a result, those two cunning boys denied everything. Professor McGonagall told me that without evidence, we shouldn't arbitrarily search the students' belongings."

"—Fred and George, those two troublemakers, if it were three hundred years ago, I would have taken them to the torture chamber and given them a good whipping and interrogation to find out their damn little secrets."

Filch the Wolf spoke harshly, his two old eyes flashing with anger as he glared at the stone helmets and armored figures by the roadside.

It was as if they were Fred and George.

It was clear that if Fred and George appeared before him now, they would certainly face the most severe punishment—

Just then, a soft meow suddenly came from the dark corridor next door.

Filch's expression immediately turned from joyful to malicious.

"It's Mrs. Lorris—! She must have found those two. Professor, we have to catch them!"

He practically jumped up on the spot and rushed in that direction. It was the first time Victor had ever seen Filch's old legs so agile, as if his feet were under magic as he swiftly rushed into the dimly lit corridor.

Victor couldn't even catch up at first because he didn't want to lose face by running down the corridor.

But when he strode towards the direction Filch had disappeared, he realized he had lost him.

The school lights were dim at night, and only a few empty steps moved back and forth in the silent castle, making it impossible to tell which one Filch had taken.

Victor looked at it for a while, shook his head, and took a die out of his pocket.

He gently tossed it into the air, then caught it back in his hand—

[3 points]

He glanced at the count and then walked up the rightmost movable step.

However, if someone could see a figure a dozen meters away, they would realize that the steps Victor took were completely opposite to Filch's actual route.