Night fell, and young wizards and professors gradually converged towards the Great Hall from all directions.
The ceiling of the hall projected the incomparably brilliant starry sky outside. Below the starry sky, the four long tables were bustling with moving heads. The young wizards enthusiastically shared the wonderful time of their Christmas holiday, seemingly having completely forgotten the apprehension they felt due to the attack incident before the holiday.
This situation made Harry secretly relieved. The scenario he feared most was being scrutinized by everyone's eyes, and being pointed at.
At the professors' table, most professors had already taken their seats. Dumbledore was also in his usual spot. Professor Lockhart was incessantly sharing with Professor McGonagall how many fan letters he had received during the Christmas holiday. Professor McGonagall, annoyed, glared at Headmaster Dumbledore, but Dumbledore pretended not to notice.
This amusing scene made Harry purse his lips. However, when he saw the empty seat next to Professor Snape, Harry's expression tightened. He guessed a possibility, but he was unwilling to believe it.
Ron was talking to his twin brothers, "You came back early this morning, why didn't I see you all day?"
"Oh, dear little Ronnie has learned to be nosy?" Fred, one of the twins, looked up at Ron and raised an eyebrow. "Speaking of which, why hasn't Miss Know-It-All come to the feast?"
Harry quickly kicked Ron under the table, afraid he might say the wrong thing.
"That's none of your business either, Fred!" Ron said unhappily.
"And, little Ronnie has learned to keep secrets!" George chimed in, complementing his brother's words, and then they stopped paying attention to Ron.
At this moment, Harry sensed an uneasy gaze. He glanced out of the corner of his eye and saw that Neville was looking at him with a hesitant expression. He immediately knew what Neville was concerned about, but he couldn't tell Neville that Hermione was still in the Hospital Wing being treated for the black hair on her face. So, Harry quickly lowered his head, pretending to be interested in the silver spoon on his plate.
"I don't know, Draco. I wasn't enrolled yet back then!"
At the Slytherin table, Malfoy, looking past Goyle and Daphne, was asking Marcus Flint, who looked like a troll, about something, but Marcus looked impatient.
"I did hear about that later. It was rumored to be related to him, but the details were strictly suppressed by Dumbledore. Those people from the Gryffindor team wouldn't reveal a single word... In my opinion, they don't know anything either, because they were all carried back by professors that night!"
During the Christmas holiday, Flint participated in the Luxembourg Quidditch team tryouts, but the result was disappointing. Given his academic performance, this meant he had to accept his family's arrangements after graduation and become an obscure junior clerk in a little-known department of the Ministry of Magic.
Young wizards arriving scattered in the Great Hall quickly flowed into the four long tables. The hall was noisy, like hundreds of Cornish Pixies stuffed in it. Many young wizards were already craning their necks, looking eagerly at the professors' table, seemingly asking why dinner hadn't started yet.
"Ah, they're here."
Snape heard Dumbledore mutter softly. He looked up and saw Amosta walking in strides from the foyer, quickly approaching the faculty table.
"My apologies, everyone. I was busy and forgot about the feast," Amosta apologized softly.
The professors smiled at him. Previously, Professor McGonagall had informed the professors that there was a new security officer in the castle for the second semester. Moreover, Amosta had been visiting them one after another in the past two days, except for Lockhart, as he was the last professor to return to school.
"Come sit down quickly, Amosta," Professor Flitwick called out in a sharp voice. "The young wizards are starving!"
"Do you want to say a few words, Amosta?"
Dumbledore moved his silver beard and smiled at Amosta.
"I'll pass, Headmaster. I am not a professor," Amosta politely declined the suggestion.
In almost an instant, the four long tables were filled with sumptuous food. The noisy Great Hall was instantly filled with a lively atmosphere. The clinking of cutlery sounded like cheerful music.
Of course, this harmony was only superficial. Amosta could sense at least a hundred pairs of eyes on him.
Five minutes after dinner started, basically all the young wizards knew the name of the handsome young wizard next to Professor Snape. The information came from upperclassmen above fifth year, who had all been in school with Amosta.
But there were conflicting accounts regarding Amosta's famous experiences during his school years.
Some said Amosta privately ran into the Forbidden Forest on a night before Christmas in his fifth year and started a huge fire, which trapped him. If it wasn't for the Gryffindor team training their formations in the Forbidden Forest at that time, he would probably have died there.
Others said the Gryffindor team actually started the fire, and Amosta was the one who rescued them.
Both claims had their supporters, and neither could convince the other.
Malfoy just focused on dealing with the lamb chops on his plate, not participating in the discussion at all. Because, today, his father had severely warned him in a letter not to anger Amosta Brain.
Lucius Malfoy knew who brought Amosta into Hogwarts. He had heard of the name Kakus Fri. If he used a little imagination, he could guess where Kakus found Amosta. Wizards who came from that place rarely had unbloodied hands.
Even without his father's warning, Draco Malfoy didn't dare to provoke Amosta.
Because of what happened in the dormitory at noon that day, Malfoy had been having nightmares for half a month. Whenever he closed his eyes, his mind would clearly conjure up the Aragog that was cleanly split in half, with its intestines and viscera scattered all over the floor.
"Please, Harry, can I tell others about that?"
"Of course you can, Ron. If you want me to be hated, or even retaliated against, for revealing his privacy, then if I get locked up in Azkaban, you and Hermione must remember to visit me often!"
During the Christmas holiday, Harry, Ron, and Hermione had agreed not to tell anyone about Amosta Brain's past that they learned from Hagrid.
Because regardless of whether Mr. Brain was sent by the Ministry of Magic or the school board, his purpose in entering Hogwarts was to find the Heir of Slytherin. As Harry, who was the most suspicious object in everyone's eyes, he wanted to try his best to avoid doing anything that might upset Mr. Brain.
But for Ron, it was indeed quite tormenting. After all, he didn't get many chances to show off.
Ten minutes later, the focus of the young wizards' private discussions gradually shifted from 'Who is he?' to 'What is he here for?'
"Perhaps, the Defense Against the Dark Arts class will finally consume two professors a year?"
Millicent Bulstrode, a rather sturdy girl who once had a 'wandless duel' with Hermione in Lockhart's Duelling Club, laughed sarcastically, her fat chin trembling.
Millicent's joke indeed caused a burst of laughter at the Slytherin table. Of course, the main focus of their mockery was Professor Gilderoy Lockhart. Most Slytherin students realized that Lockhart was just a show-off who told stories.
Malfoy hunched his shoulders. He quickly glanced at Amosta, who was chatting with Dumbledore at the faculty table, and then quickly lowered his head, pretending not to know the people around him who were laughing.
"You're a bit off tonight, Draco?" Pansy, sitting on his other side, leaned over and asked, looking at the unusually quiet Malfoy with concern.
"Shut up, Pansy!" Malfoy didn't even look at her, his voice hurried. "Unless you also want to be cleanly sliced in half by someone!"
"It seems you are very popular with the children, Amosta."
Dumbledore shook his silver beard, which was covered in thick mushroom soup, and looked sideways at Amosta, who was dealing with a roasted sausage, his expression smiling.
"They are just curious about a stranger who suddenly appeared, Headmaster Dumbledore."
Amosta politely nodded in response. In front of Dumbledore, he tried his best to avoid saying too much. The saying "trouble comes from the mouth" was not without reason.
Dumbledore didn't care about his deliberate restraint and continued to chat with him cordially.
"Severus told me you haven't rested for several nights. I must express my gratitude to you, Amosta. Thank you for your efforts in ensuring the children's safety."
Amosta smiled humbly. However, Dumbledore intended to continue,
"—Although I am very old, Amosta, I am lucky that I am not a rigid old man. Your view is correct. Ensuring the children's safety is the most important thing—"
Professor McGonagall, sitting to Dumbledore's left and listening intently, pursed her lips, looking a bit unhappy.
"I think that's a brilliant idea, Amosta. I mean, the set of alchemical items you arranged in the office. Although there are some voices saying it violates the young wizards' privacy—"
Dumbledore finally expressed his attitude toward Amosta's monitoring of the young wizards in a roundabout way.
"Thank you for your understanding, Headmaster Dumbledore. If you are willing, after the Chamber of Secrets attack incident is resolved, I can move that monitoring system to your office—"
Amosta nodded gratefully.
It will definitely be much more useful than monitoring the school with portraits— This was what Amosta didn't say.
They exchanged a few more pleasantries. Dumbledore hoped Amosta would come out more often when he was free and interact with the young wizards.
"The children are very eager to understand you, Amosta."
Dumbledore ended the conversation with this seemingly insignificant request.
"Traitor."
As he withdrew his gaze, Amosta muttered softly.
Snape, who had been sitting between Amosta and Dumbledore with an expressionless face, turned grim. He clearly knew who Amosta's words were directed at.
On the other side of the faculty table, Lockhart, who hadn't been able to hear the conversation but eagerly wanted to join, secretly glanced at Amosta, who had picked up his silver fork again, and suddenly felt a strange sense of crisis for no reason...
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