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Chapter 141 - Chapter 142: Do You Want to Go Out and Hide for a While?

"Would you like to take a Valentine's holiday and slip away for a bit of fun?"

Inside Dumbledore's office, the atmosphere was unusually tense. Gathered around the Headmaster's desk were Professor McGonagall, Professor Flitwick, Professor Snape, and Damon. All of them looked rather puzzled at Dumbledore's suggestion.

"What exactly is going on?" Damon asked, eyebrows raised.

Dumbledore turned to McGonagall. She gave a curt nod and, with a flick of her wand, dumped a pile of glass vials onto the desk. The table gleamed with bottles of pink and scarlet liquid—love potions.

"I've confiscated all of these recently," McGonagall explained.

Damon whistled. "Impressive haul. I'd say Snape looks positively delighted."

Snape's face darkened immediately. "Watch your tongue," he snapped, glaring at Damon with open hostility. "Do you think I enjoy this? Do you know how many hours it takes to neutralize this garbage, on top of teaching two classes?"

"Poor overworked Snape," Damon drawled, smirking. "I'm sure the students are heartbroken for you."

Flitwick snorted into his sleeve, and even McGonagall's lips twitched before she forced her expression stern again.

"You don't seem inclined to leave, Damon?" Dumbledore cut in smoothly, steering the conversation back.

"Leave? I don't see why I should," Damon replied casually.

"Because someone is trying to poison you," Dumbledore said matter-of-factly. "One of these potions was found in the elves' kitchen. They tried slipping it into your food."

For a moment the professors waited for Damon to show alarm. Instead, he leaned back in his chair and grinned. "Sounds a bit crazy… but honestly, I wouldn't mind testing it."

Flitwick chuckled outright at that, while Snape rolled his eyes with disgust. Aside from McGonagall, none of them seemed particularly worried. Dumbledore himself had only raised the issue because McGonagall had pressed him.

"Why not take a short break? At least on Valentine's Day," McGonagall urged. Her tone held an edge of desperation.

But Damon only shrugged. "Run away from school because of a bunch of admirers? That would be ridiculous—and frankly hilarious."

"Just one day," McGonagall pressed again.

Before Damon could answer, Flitwick raised his voice. "Forget it, Minerva. These young witches are in the throes of first love. Finally, they've found someone they're smitten with. If Damon disappears, it will only inflame them further."

"Filius! Even you…" McGonagall's voice was tight with disbelief.

"It seems," Dumbledore said with his ever-gentle smile, "we've reached a conclusion. Such a gifted young man is bound to attract attention. That is how the world works."

McGonagall shook her head, exasperated. She shot Damon a pointed look. "Remember what I told you at Christmas—you must play at least once." With that, she swept out of the office, clearly annoyed that no one had taken her side.

Damon sighed. "I'll think about it, Professor."

"Think about what?" Dumbledore leaned forward curiously once McGonagall had gone.

Snape, who had been halfway to the door, slowed his steps, while Flitwick stayed rooted, his ears perked.

"Quidditch," Damon said, smirking. "She wants me to join Gryffindor's team as a substitute and play at least once this term."

"A perfectly reasonable request," Dumbledore said with a twinkle in his eye.

"Reasonable? Maybe. But I've never been interested in Quidditch." Damon shrugged.

"That is a pity. It is the finest sport in the world," Dumbledore said warmly. Then, after a thoughtful pause, he added, "As for Minerva's insistence… well, that ties back to an old story. But that is hers to tell."

"Boring," Snape muttered, sweeping his robes dramatically as he stalked out.

"Oh, I know the story," Flitwick piped up with a grin. "Damon, you really ought to play—imagine beating Slytherin at their own game."

Damon chuckled. "Even if I don't, Gryffindor with Harry won't lose."

"Not so certain, are you?" Flitwick teased.

Damon's eyes gleamed. "Careful with your words. That's my beloved savior you're doubting." He winked, and Flitwick burst into laughter so hard that he hopped up onto Damon's shoulders.

"Then I'll stick close to our heartthrob before his fan club carries him off," Flitwick said cheerfully as Damon carried him out of the office, leaving Dumbledore chuckling behind them.

"When did those two become so close?" the old Headmaster murmured to himself.

---

The next morning in the Great Hall, Damon proved true to his word—he wasn't about to be scared away by fangirls. Even though he'd already received several "gifts" laced with aphrodisiacs, he sat calmly at the Gryffindor table, studying the dishes before him. With faint amusement, he carefully chose three items he was certain weren't tampered with.

As he cracked open a tea egg—made by the house-elves at his special request after Christmas—Harry appeared, nervously leading a girl by the hand. She sat down quickly between Damon and Cho Chang, separating them.

"Hey—" Harry's voice cracked embarrassingly on the first word. He tried to play it off, but Damon raised an eyebrow.

"Your throat hurt, Harry?" Damon asked dryly, peeling his egg.

Harry's face went scarlet. The girl beside him tittered softly, and Harry could only laugh awkwardly.

"I, uh… I want to introduce you to a new friend," he stammered. "Cho Chang."

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