Hogwarts: Homecoming

Chapter 9: The Investigation Begins

The gloomy weather that had persisted for days finally broke on the first day of the new year. The rising sun cast its rays upon the white, snow-covered grounds, draping Hogwarts Castle in a veil of pale gold.

After preparing the necessary restorative draught for Hermione, Madam Pomfrey went down to the Great Hall for breakfast. In the hospital wing, only Harry and Ron were left to keep a dejected Hermione company. After hearing her account of the previous night's events, their expressions weren't much brighter than hers.

"Professor Snape definitely knows!" Hermione buried her furry face in her hands, her voice miserable. "He called out my name before the door even opened! That shouldn't have been possible. Besides Madam Pomfrey, no one knew what I looked like. Professor Snape is a Potions Master; he must know what happens when you use Polyjuice Potion for an animal transformation. Which means... he knows I stole ingredients from his private stores."

Harry stared blankly at the tall goalposts rising from the grounds. He and Ron had originally planned to play a bit of Quidditch after visiting Hermione today, but now, that plan was undoubtedly off the table.

Moreover, the good mood he'd been in since the start of the Christmas holiday—a result of no one whispering about his being a Parselmouth or secretly accusing him of being the Heir of Slytherin—was rapidly evaporating. The cause of it all was the young wizard Hermione had just told them about: Amos Blaine.

"Amos Blaine... and he says he's an investigator." Harry asked, his voice fraught with worry, "Hermione, what do you think he's here at Hogwarts to investigate?"

"Do you even have to ask, Harry? What else is there to investigate at the school right now?" Ron snapped. The fact that Harry and Ron seemed completely unconcerned about being expelled for their part in this only made the little witch's foul mood even worse.

Harry felt the warmth in his stomach from the morning's porridge curdle with a sudden chill. He'd never heard the name Amos Blaine before, and besides Mr. Weasley, he'd never had any dealings with a wizard who held an official title. But that didn't stop the heavy pressure that settled in his chest upon hearing the word 'investigator'.

Because he could speak Parseltongue, he was already the prime suspect among the students. If everyone found out next term that an investigator had come to the school, how much more slander would he have to endure? Harry could already picture the smug, triumphant expression on Malfoy's disgusting face. He'd probably be the first one to report Harry to the investigator.

"Why would the Ministry suddenly send an investigator to the school?" Harry wondered aloud. "I mean, we have Professor Dumbledore, and he never mentioned anything to me."

Thinking of this, Harry suddenly recalled the night Justin was attacked. He'd had a conversation with Professor Dumbledore in his office. At the time, for various reasons—especially the fear that Dumbledore would think he had some connection to the founder of Slytherin—he hadn't confessed about Dobby's warning or the terrifying voice he heard before each attack.

Could it be? Was Dumbledore dissatisfied with his secrecy and had therefore agreed to let the Ministry take over? And would the Ministry, to save themselves the trouble, just listen to the school rumors and lock him up in that wizarding prison Malfoy was always talking about?

"It's obvious, isn't it, Harry? It's that old bat Snape, plotting in the shadows!" Ron declared, brandishing a half-eaten potato pasty, his freckled nose held high. "Think about it, Harry. This Blaine fellow is close with Snape. He probably even graduated from Slytherin!"

Ron began chewing his pasty again, analyzing the situation with an air of great authority. "Who wants to get you kicked out of this school more than anyone? Snape, without a doubt. I'll bet you anything, Harry, this investigator is just someone Snape found to do his dirty work..."

"Thanks, Ron. I feel so much better after your analysis," Harry said glumly, slumping onto the edge of the bed.

"Don't be ridiculous, Ron," Hermione scolded. Whatever the reason, since Snape hadn't exposed her last night, it probably meant she wasn't going to be expelled for stealing from a professor. Having reasoned this out, Hermione felt a little less tense. She crossed her arms and glared fiercely at Ron. "Not even the Minister for Magic has the right to expel a Hogwarts student without reason. Not unless Professor Dumbledore agrees. And Harry, Professor Dumbledore would never expel you, right?"

If it had been before their talk in his office, Harry might have been able to give a definite yes. He had always felt that the silver-haired, silver-bearded old man treated him a little differently from the other students, even though they had spoken directly only a handful of times.

"Maybe, Hermione," Harry answered hesitantly. "At least, Dumbledore told Hagrid he doesn't think I attacked Colin and the others. He can't agree to expel me just because I kept a few things from him."

While Harry was lost in his worries, Ron, rebuffed by Hermione, continued to mutter his opinions under his breath. Suddenly, he frowned and looked up at the pure white ceiling, a look of recollection on his face.

"Amos Blaine... I feel like I've heard that name somewhere before."

His low mumble immediately sparked an idea in Harry's mind.

"Ron, if this Blaine is an investigator, he must be a colleague of your dad's or something. Maybe they're on good terms. Perhaps... you could write a letter for me and ask? I mean, to explain things in advance, before he comes to find me—"

Ron's parents, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, were Harry's favorite wizards. They were always incredibly kind to him. The week he had spent at The Burrow last year was the best part of any summer holiday he'd ever had. If Mr. Weasley knew Amos Blaine, he surely wouldn't refuse to help clear his name.

The golden sunlight gradually climbed up the Quidditch goalposts on the grounds, and a gentle breeze carrying a hint of spring's vitality drifted across the wide lawns.

"Of course, no problem, Harry. I can write..." Ron responded slowly, still trying to remember where he had heard the name. "Fred and George might have heard of him too. As for Percy the Prefect... oh, we'd better not ask him. For the sake of his career, he'd probably be more eager to sell us out than Malfoy!"

"That's your brother, Ron," Hermione said, throwing back her covers and sitting on the edge of the bed to pull on her boots. "You shouldn't talk about him like that."

Of the trio, Hermione had the highest opinion of Ron's brother, Percy Weasley. She had privately asked him for help with difficult subjects many times, and Percy had indeed used his extensive knowledge to solve many of her problems.

"We were brothers before he became a prefect and set his sights on becoming Head Boy," Ron said, his ears turning red with indignation. "But now, I'm not so sure. I'll never forget him docking five points from me in front of Moaning Myrtle's bathroom!"

"Percy is a prefect. Maintaining discipline is his duty, Ron," Hermione said matter-of-factly. She had been there when Percy had docked the points, and she hadn't seen anything wrong with his actions.

Hermione stood up and stomped her feet into her boots. Then, she pulled up the collar of her robes, trying to hide the black fur on her cheeks as much as possible. "Go get your Invisibility Cloak, Harry. You don't expect me to walk out of the hospital wing looking like this, do you?"

"Oh, out?" Harry, who had been lost in thought, snapped back to the present with a start. "Are you coming to play Quidditch with us, Hermione?"

Hermione looked utterly defeated. "When are you ever going to get Quidditch out of your brain, Harry? We're going to investigate Mr. Blaine, of course. We have to find out where he comes from first, don't we?"