Without objection, Jon agreed to Albus Dumbledore's suggestion.
Truth be told, even if Dumbledore hadn't suggested it, he would have done the same.
While at the Hospital Wing, he'd been constantly worried about Astoria's current situation.
Alone in the manor, her mother had been suddenly taken away by a group of Aurors. Her sister remained at school, with only two House-elves for company. Meanwhile, the soul of the Blood Curse lurked within her, waiting to pounce.
Using the fireplace in the Headmaster's Office, just as he had last time, Jon Hart set off for Greengrass Manor.
...
Albus Dumbledore watched Jon's departing figure in silence.
A faint, contented smile touched his lips before he settled back into his desk chair.
He briefly skimmed through several documents, handling a few school matters.
Time ticked by, drawing ever closer to eight o'clock in the morning...
"Albus!"
A portrait of Everard suddenly appeared on the wall. "It's time for you to head to the Ministry of Magic. Bones and Scrimgeour are waiting for you!"
"Thank you for the reminder, Everard," Dumbledore replied. "Would you kindly inform them I shall arrive at the Ministry within ten minutes?"
"No problem," Headmaster Everard muttered before vanishing from the portrait once more.
After continuing to review several documents, Albus Dumbledore lifted his head again as a rustling sound emanated from the portrait.
"Phineas?" he asked softly. "Did you give the girl the Password for the Headmaster's Office?"
"Acid Pops... right?" Headmaster Phineas Black blinked. "Honestly, I do miss that candy sold at Honeydukes."
"Personally, I find it a bit too sour," Dumbledore shook his head in disagreement.
"But it seems she should be here now!"
No sooner had Albus Dumbledore spoken than a knock sounded at the door of the Headmaster's Office.
"Come in!"
...
A young girl, appearing to be seventeen or eighteen, pushed open the heavy door to the Headmaster's Office.
With golden curls and clad in a Slytherin green robe, she stepped inside cautiously, glancing around discreetly.
The portraits of Hogwarts' former headmasters and headmistresses lining the walls all appeared to be resting their eyes, each wearing an air of profound mystery.
"Come in, Miss Greengrass!" Albus Dumbledore greeted her gently. "No need to be so cautious. Sit down."
As he spoke, he gestured toward the seat opposite him.
Daphne Greengrass nodded timidly and sat down opposite Dumbledore.
"Would you like something to drink? Oatmeal, Butterbeer, or perhaps tea..." Dumbledore murmured to himself. "But it's morning, not afternoon. A cup of breakfast tea it is!"
As he spoke, Dumbledore waved his hand, and a pristine white porcelain tea set appeared before him, emitting a faint floral fragrance.
The teapot levitated automatically in midair, pouring a measure of black tea into each cup—likely with a hint of lemon and honey added.
"Thank you, Professor," Daphne said softly as she picked up a cup and took a sip.
"How have you been these past few days?" Dumbledore asked with genuine concern.
"Well..."
Daphne paused, then smiled bitterly.
"Professor, to be honest, it's been poor. Every corridor I walk through, I hear people whispering about me, saying my mother was a rotten Death Eater. And all these bizarre, even disgusting rumors about my mother and sister..."
"I'm sorry to hear that, but enduring gossip is a necessary lesson in life," Dumbledore said calmly.
"My father was once imprisoned in Azkaban because of a muggle attack. And my younger brother, Aberforth, who was attending Hogwarts at the time—he was even younger than you are now—had to endure many of the same rumors you're facing..."
"Aberforth wasn't crushed by those rumors. Instead, he beat up a few students who spoke ill of him to his face, completely unaffected by the gossip."
Dumbledore smiled.
"Of course, I'm not suggesting you emulate Aberforth's actions—Professor Snape would certainly come looking for me if you did. But I do suggest you study his mindset..."
Daphne chuckled softly, nodding slightly as her expression softened considerably.
"Are you asking me... about my mother, Professor?" Daphne spoke up, as if gathering her thoughts. "Snape has already spoken with me. He asked me several times. But I know nothing. Nothing about her connection to You-Know-Who. Nor what she did..."
As she spoke, Daphne's voice grew hesitant and stammering.
"Of course not," Dumbledore shook his head. "There's no need to be afraid, Miss Greengrass."
"I merely heard that a few days ago, you wrote a letter to Mr. Jon Hart, warning him?"
Daphne's head dropped instantly.
In a barely audible whisper, she replied:
"Yes, Professor..."
"In that letter, you told him it was Professor Horace Slughorn who informed you of the matter and instructed you to relay it to him."
Dumbledore's tone grew increasingly stern.
"But I questioned Horace last night, and he informed me he never asked you to convey any message whatsoever..."
"Care to explain that, Miss Greengrass, Miss Greengrass?" Dumbledore inquired calmly.
Daphne sat before Dumbledore, head bowed, as still as a stone statue.
"May I not answer that question, Professor..."
After a long pause, the 'statue' finally stirred.
She murmured, her voice so low it carried a hint of tears.
"Of course you may."
To Daphne's surprise, Dumbledore agreed without hesitation.
As Daphne stood there in a daze—
"If I recall correctly, you Slytherin sixth-years have Transfiguration at eight o'clock. So if I were you, I'd hurry to class."
"Minerva can be quite terrifying when she's angry. You should still make it!" Dumbledore added with a smile.
Daphne nodded numbly, then stumbled out of the Headmaster's Office.
...
"Any issues, Dumbledore?" The eyes of Headmaster Phineas Black suddenly opened on the wall, murmuring the question.
"No issues whatsoever. All is well!"