Tracking Down

The overcast skies that had lingered for days finally cleared on the first day of the new year. The rising sun spilled over the snow-white grounds, its reflected radiance draping Hogwarts Castle in a pale golden veil.

After preparing the restorative potion Hermione needed to take early in the morning, Madam Pomfrey went downstairs to breakfast in the Great Hall. In the Hospital Wing, only Harry and Ron remained with the dejected Hermione. After listening to her account of what had happened the previous night, neither of them looked particularly cheerful.

"Professor Snape definitely knows!"

Hermione covered her furry face with both hands, looking despondent.

"Professor Snape called out my name before the door even opened. That shouldn't have happened. Other than Madam Pomfrey, no one knew about my condition. Professor Snape is a Potions master—he must know what happens when Polyjuice Potion is used for animal transformation. Which means he knows I stole ingredients from his storeroom."

Harry stared blankly at the towering goalposts on the grounds. Today, he and Ron had originally planned to play some Quidditch after visiting Hermione, but that plan would clearly have to be canceled.

And the good mood he had enjoyed since Christmas break—because no one in the castle had whispered about his Parseltongue behind his back or secretly accused him of being Slytherin's Heir—was rapidly fading too. It was all because of the young wizard Hermione had just told him about, Amosta Breen.

"Amosta Breen, who claims to be an Investigator."

Harry asked worriedly, "Hermione, what do you think Breen came to Hogwarts to investigate?"

"Isn't that obvious, Harry? What else is there in this school worth investigating now?"

Harry and Ron seemed entirely unconcerned about being expelled over this, which made the already miserable young witch even more irritable.

Harry felt his stomach, warm from the rice porridge he had eaten that morning, cramp at an inexplicable chill. He had never heard that name before, and apart from Mr. Weasley, he had never dealt with any wizard who held an official title. But that did not stop a heavy pressure from rising in his heart at the title of "Investigator."

Because of his Parseltongue, he was already the subject of suspicion among the students. If everyone learned that an Investigator had come to the school in the second half of the term, how much more gossip would he have to endure?

Harry could practically see the smug look on Malfoy's loathsome face. Perhaps Malfoy would be the first to report him to the Investigator.

"Why would the Ministry of Magic suddenly send an Investigator into the school...? I mean, Headmaster Dumbledore is here, and he's never mentioned anything to me."

At that, Harry suddenly remembered the night Justin had been attacked, when he had spoken with Headmaster Dumbledore in his office. For all sorts of reasons—especially because he was afraid Headmaster Dumbledore would think he had some connection to Slytherin's founder—he had not confessed Dobby's warning or the terrifying voice that appeared before every attack.

Could it be that Headmaster Dumbledore was dissatisfied with what he had concealed, and that was why he had agreed to let the Ministry of Magic take over?

Would the Ministry take the easy way out, listen to the rumors in the school, and throw him straight into that wizard prison Malfoy had mentioned?

"Obviously, Harry—it must be that old bat Snape pulling strings behind the scenes!"

Ron raised his freckled nose, clutching half a potato pie in his hand, and declared with certainty.

"Think about it, Harry. This Breen is close to Snape. Maybe he graduated from Slytherin himself."

Ron resumed chewing his potato pie and analyzed the matter with great seriousness.

"Who wants to drive you out of this school most? Without a doubt, Snape. I'd bet anything, Harry, that this Investigator is someone Snape brought in to do exactly that..."

"Thanks, Ron. I feel so much better after hearing your analysis."

Harry sat listlessly on the edge of the bed and spoke without spirit.

"Don't talk nonsense, Ron."

Whatever the reason, since Snape had not exposed her directly the night before, that seemed to mean she would not be expelled for stealing a professor's property. Having realized this, Hermione was a little less nervous. She folded her arms across her chest and glared fiercely at Ron.

"Even the Minister for Magic has no right to expel a Hogwarts student whenever he likes, unless Headmaster Dumbledore agrees. And Harry, Headmaster Dumbledore won't expel you, will he?"

Before that conversation, Harry might have been able to answer with certainty. He had always sensed that the silver-haired old man treated him and the other young wizards a little differently, although they had spoken directly only a handful of times.

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

While Harry agonized over it, Ron, though rebuked by Hermione, continued muttering his opinions under his breath. Suddenly, he frowned at the pure white ceiling, looking as though he were trying to remember something.

"Amosta Breen... I feel like I've heard that name somewhere before?"

That quiet murmur immediately jolted Harry awake.

"Ron, since Breen calls himself an Investigator, he must be some sort of colleague of Mr. Weasley's. Maybe they even know each other well. Perhaps... you could write him a letter and ask? I mean, explain things beforehand, before he finds me—"

Ron's parents, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, were Harry's favorite wizards, and they had always been very kind to him. The week he had spent with the Weasleys last year had been the most wonderful part of his summer holidays in many years. If Mr. Weasley knew Amosta Breen, he certainly would not refuse to help Harry explain himself.

Golden sunlight gradually climbed up the goalposts on the grounds, and the breeze drifting across the broad lawn carried a faint hint of vibrant spring.

"Of course, no problem, Harry. I can write a letter..."

Ron replied hesitantly, still trying to remember where he had heard the name.

"Maybe Fred and George have heard of him too. As for Percy, our prefect—oh, we'd better not go to him. For the sake of his career, he might be even more eager to sell us out than Malfoy!"

"That's your brother, Ron."

Hermione threw back the blankets, sat on the edge of the bed, and pulled on her boots.

"You shouldn't talk about him like that."

Of the three of them, Hermione held Ron's brother, Percy Weasley, in the highest regard. In private, she had often asked Percy for help with difficult problems, and Percy's extensive knowledge had indeed helped her solve quite a few of them.

"Before he became a prefect and set his sights on becoming Male Student Council President, we really were brothers. But now, that's hard to say."

Ron's ears turned red as he snapped angrily, "I'll never forget the five points he took from me outside Moaning Myrtle's bathroom!"

"Percy is a prefect. Maintaining discipline is his duty, Ron."

Though she had been there when Percy deducted points from Ron, Hermione did not think there had been anything wrong with Percy's actions.

Hermione stood up and stamped her boots, then pulled up the collar of her Wizard Robe to cover the black fur on her cheeks as much as possible.

"Go get your Invisibility Cloak, Harry. Do you expect me to walk out of the Hospital Wing looking like this?"

"Oh, going out?"

Harry, who had been lost in thought, jolted back in surprise.

"You want to play Quidditch with us, Hermione?"

"When are you going to get Quidditch out of your head, Harry?"

Hermione looked utterly defeated.

"Of course we're going to investigate Mr. Breen. We need to find out where he came from first, don't we?"