In the first-floor corridor, three children were whispering softly.
Ron's face was filled with self-reproach as he clutched his head: "Oh, Merlin, I… I got that notebook a long time ago, but I forgot all about it, a long, long time ago… If only I had been more alert, none of this would have happened!"
"Don't think too much," Harry could only offer such dry comfort.
He actually felt that Ron's actions this time were a bit too unreliable, especially since Professor Howl had emphasized the dangers of the Dark Arts and Dark Arts artifacts more than once or twice in class.
"You can't blame yourself entirely. No one could have known that Peter Pettigrew was still alive, transformed into a rat, and even less that he was working for Vol… You-Know-Who," Harry said.
"By the way… who exactly is Pettigrew, Harry? Did you know him before?" Hermione changed the subject. She didn't want to talk about this matter too much; it was already in the past, and debating right and wrong now was meaningless.
It was enough to confirm that Ron was not acting intentionally.
"He was my father's friend," Harry said, his expression also somewhat grim. "Peter Pettigrew, in contemporary history, is recorded as a brave Gryffindor.
He sacrificed his life pursuing the heinous Death Eater Sirius, and the Ministry of Magic awarded him the Order of Merlin, First Class."
The book's account of Peter Pettigrew was very simple, only briefly stating his relationship with his father and the cause of his death.
If the Wizarding World had a few more people or events, this matter wouldn't even make it into history books.
"But he's not dead, and he's the Death Eater?!" Hermione said incredulously. "Or is it just that he's been deceived recently…?"
"No," Harry shook his head. "If he had only recently turned bad and started working for Riddle, Professor Snape wouldn't have acted that way." Harry recalled Professor Snape's words.
"It was you… don't utter that name with your mouth…"
Harry had already vaguely guessed what "that name" Professor Snape was referring to.
After all, following James, a name starting with L, besides his mother, he couldn't think of any other possibility.
Thinking of this, Harry felt a headache coming on.
"Is this why Snape likes to target me so much?"
In the corridor, the Little Wizards who remained at the school were loudly discussing the incident that had just occurred.
They heard that Professor Snape was very seriously injured, which was quite pitiful.
And… it was only limited to injury.
This made many Little Wizards secretly happy. The scene they had wished for countless times finally came true, and it had nothing to do with them. The situation was not serious enough to involve death, so it was difficult for them to feel empathy.
They would just smile and think: "Professor is so pitiful, I hope his injury takes a while to heal, and he gets plenty of rest…"
Of course, this was not everyone; there were still some children who felt sad about Snape's plight.
Some were also wondering how safe Hogwarts truly was, given that even Professor Snape had sustained such injuries…
After all, his power demonstrated in the Duelling Club was evident to all.
At the same time, Professor Flitwick also hurried over from the other side, his expression serious, his steps rushed.
From his appearance to his arrival in front of the three, it was but a moment.
"Professor," the three quickly greeted him.
"Are you all right?" Professor Flitwick asked with concern. He saw the white bandage wrapped around Harry's hand, which was treatment for the earlier magic flame burn.
"No, we're fine," Harry quickly said. "Professor Snape protected us."
A passing Little Wizard nearby suddenly froze, turning his head in disbelief behind Professor Flitwick.
Harry earnestly reiterated, "Professor Snape stood in front of us to protect us, that's why he was so seriously injured."
His gaze swept past Professor Flitwick to the students behind who were trying to glean some information.
These words were meant for them.
"Severus… that fellow truly is…" Professor Flitwick's eyes were a little red, feeling surprised yet also rightfully proud of this news!
"Alright, you three go rest and relax." Professor Flitwick nodded, then walked towards the Hospital Wing.
He ascended the stairs and soon arrived on the second floor, where he happened to encounter Howl and Dumbledore coming out, as well as Professor McGonagall at the entrance of the Hospital Wing.
"Filius, you've come too. How are things?" Dumbledore asked.
"Some children were clearly quite frightened; the explosion was truly too violent," Professor Flitwick said.
"Not serious. Besides the loss of dozens of magical paintings, there were no other casualties in the corridor," McGonagall nodded.
"Albus, what exactly happened?" McGonagall asked with some concern. "Is it about the Chamber of Secrets?"
Dumbledore's expression softened slightly. "Let's continue this discussion in my office."
Howl was flipping through the notebook in his hand, his fingertips carrying a faint, imperceptible glow as he continuously stroked the pages to examine them.
He raised his head and subtly surveyed his surroundings.
"Cedric, very fond of joining the commotion?" He took a step to the side, raised his hand, and beckoned towards himself.
Cedric awkwardly emerged from around the corner. "Professor… I'm sorry."
Howl didn't bother with him. When something like this happens, who wouldn't be curious? It was quite normal.
"Go tell Myrtle that the Chamber of Secrets matter is resolved, completely resolved.
If she's willing, tell her not to confine herself to that dirty bathroom anymore. The girls attending classes on the second floor have to run a long way to the toilet every time, which is quite tiring."
"Resolved?!" Cedric said.
"Yes, everything is over," Howl nodded.
"That's great news," Cedric nodded. "Um… Professor, can I have someone else do this?"
"I don't trust anyone else to do it," Howl patted his shoulder. "You know, Myrtle isn't very popular with the children, and few people can truly empathize with what she's been through.
Of course, there's nothing wrong with that!
It's just that—someone with your ability is much more precious."
"Oh… alright," Cedric was a bit taken aback, feeling his face flush. "
These words… they sound so comforting…"
He could only nod, glancing down to see if there were any Ravenclaws around, especially girls, as this was a task involving the girls' bathroom…
"Go on," Howl patted his shoulder.
Turning back, he happened to meet the gazes of the others.
"Some girls take twenty minutes or more just to go to the toilet when they ask for permission. Who can accept that kind of situation?"
Dumbledore nodded knowingly, stroking his beard. "Of course, yes, of course!"
Dumbledore's annoying tone made Howl want to punch him on the other side of his nose to set his bone straight.
As for Myrtle? Howl wasn't sure if her frequent sorrowful weeping was related to the Chamber of Secrets; it was just a possibility.
However, it's worth a try, isn't it? If it could stop her from crying all the time, that would be a great thing.
Conversely, if there was a misunderstanding, Cedric would be the one embarrassed.
… …
… …
The conversation in the office quickly concluded. After Dumbledore recounted everything that had happened to the two and the belated Pomona, they all felt sincere admiration for Snape's actions.
McGonagall suggested immediately informing the public that the Chamber of Secrets incident had been resolved, but Dumbledore politely declined.
On one hand, Dumbledore surmised that Rita Skeeter should be in custody. As for the reason, it was because Howl had mentioned that fellow earlier.
Now they should have no time or courage to dictate to Hogwarts.
On the other hand, regarding the Board of Governors, Dumbledore still had a confrontation with them to come…
"By the way, for tonight's dinner, let's have a small pre-Christmas feast," Dumbledore said.
Professor McGonagall nodded, "That's a good idea. Even if we don't inform the public, we should inform the children, to put their minds at ease."
As for how long it would take for this news to spread from the children to the outside world, and what Dumbledore could do in the meantime, that was his own business.
After the three Professors left, Howl, who had been writing something off to the side, slowly raised his quill.
"Actually, you just don't think there's anything worth saying to those people outside, right?"
"I just don't think it's necessary to waste words," Dumbledore smiled, not denying it. "What are you writing?"
Howl held up the notebook. Dumbledore took a glance and quickly averted his gaze.
On it were sections of profanity-free insults, a truly exquisite form of linguistic art.
"As expected of the King of the Seven Seas, is that a pirate's moniker?"
Howl nodded and closed the notebook.
"I'm thinking about how to deal with it."
"My suggestion is to burn it to ashes, but I imagine you probably think that's not enough," Dumbledore smiled.
"No, I just think that would be a waste," Howl shook his head. "Are you investigating other Horcruxes?"
"Of course." He leaned back in his chair, showing a rare weariness. "I feel like I'm close to catching one…"
"That fast?"
"Young geniuses always like to seek a sense of ritual as embellishment. Strictly speaking—this isn't like looking for a needle in a haystack, but rather there's a discernible pattern."
Howl looked at the notebook in his hand.
"In that case, it seems it could serve as a breakthrough point to explore his past and growth experiences, which would allow for better judgment."
Dumbledore paused. "A brilliant idea."
Then he focused his gaze on the notebook, initiating an intrusion.
A moment later, he suddenly let out a long sigh.
"It's very sluggish; he mastered impressive Occlumency at a young age."
Howl picked up the diary again and examined it for a moment. A moment later, a thoughtful expression appeared on his face.
"What do you think about using this thing as a teaching aid for Occlumency practice?"
… …
"A very bold idea," Dumbledore was somewhat surprised by the thought. "But the children might be easily influenced by it."
"Verbal influence is harmless to some people. There are always those with strong convictions in this world. As for mental intrusion, isn't that what we want?"
"Indeed," Dumbledore nodded, then admonished, "You must be careful, extremely careful!"
Howl didn't bother to respond and instead brought up Marcus Flint.
"I have two ideas."
Dumbledore unwrapped a candy, awaiting his next words.
"First, a Duelling Tournament, just a small inter-school competition. Second, if possible, has one of your old friends ever considered teaching the children as a seasoned veteran?"
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