Who Is the Culprit?

"Wes, aren't you going to watch the Quidditch match?"

Hagrid looked curiously at Wes, who was sprawled comfortably across the carpet.

Ever since his last visit, Hagrid's warm and unique treehouse had become Wes's perfect place to relax.

Sometimes he focused on reading all kinds of books; other times, he devoted himself to brewing potions. Whenever he felt tired, he came here to rest.

Perhaps it was because the treehouse displayed such a dazzling variety of rare materials. Even simply looking at them quietly was immensely satisfying.

However, whenever Wes came by, he thoughtfully brought several bottles of excellent wine.

Hagrid casually picked up a bottle of red wine. With a light flick of his finger, the cork shot out with a whoosh.

Without another word, he tipped it into his mouth and gulped it down. In just a few swallows, he had drained the entire large bottle, leaving specks of wine in his thick beard.

Just then, the sturdy wooden door was thrown open. Harry, Ron, and Hermione rushed in, looking frantic.

"Hagrid, Harry was almost killed today!" Hermione cried anxiously.

"That's right!" Ron chimed in, his voice full of panic.

The three of them immediately started shouting over one another.

Hagrid stared at them with his still-dazed little eyes, his face full of confusion. "What? What are you talking about? I don't understand a word."

The wine bottle slipped from his grasp.

With a bang, it smashed onto the floor, red wine gushing out of it.

Fang, who had been enjoying Wes's massage nearby, immediately ran over at the sound, happily and greedily lapping up the wine that had spilled onto the floor.

Hagrid hurriedly bent down to pick up the bottle, muttering, "Hey, you naughty little thing. This is good wine. You can't waste it like that."

At that moment, all his attention was on the wine and Fang.

"Wine?" Hermione put her hands on her hips and demanded sternly, "Hagrid, I remember very clearly that you were supposed to be patrolling near the stadium today. Why are you hiding at home drinking?"

"Uh, well..." Hagrid's little eyes darted around. Then inspiration struck, and he smacked his forehead. "Wes needed to talk to me about something. We were discussing something important. I wasn't skipping work for no reason."

Only then did the three of them notice Wes lying on the carpet.

"Professor Erwin!!" The three exchanged glances, then shouted in unison. They had not expected to run into the new professor here.

Wes casually waved at them. "Don't mind me. Just pretend I'm not here."

"By the way, didn't you say Harry was almost killed? What happened?" Hagrid asked urgently, his face filled with concern.

Without even pausing to catch her breath, Hermione clearly recounted the dangerous incident at the pitch in detail and firmly concluded that Professor Snape was the prime suspect.

"Impossible!!" Hagrid waved his hands repeatedly and said loudly, "Professor Snape would never do anything to hurt Harry."

"But he really seems to hate me."

Harry frowned, looking aggrieved. He clearly believed Hermione's deduction.

"That's right. I saw Professor Snape casting a spell at Harry's broom with my own eyes. After I burned his robes, the broom immediately returned to normal."

Hermione added anxiously, her expression grave and earnest.

"Exactly. That has to be it." Ron nodded vigorously in agreement, his eyes resolute.

Listening to them, Wes could not help but snort with laughter.

Like a proud swan, Hermione lifted her chin high and said indignantly, "Professor Erwin doesn't believe my deduction. I've seriously read several Sherlock Holmes casebooks. My reasoning can't be wrong."

"Read fewer of those detective novels." Wes shook his head helplessly.

Hermione froze for a moment. Clearly, she had not expected Wes to know about Sherlock Holmes too.

"I'm from the Muggle world, so of course I know about him." Wes sat up straight and spoke seriously.

Hermione was still unconvinced and plopped heavily down beside Wes.

"Tell me why it couldn't have been Professor Snape."

Harry, meanwhile, came timidly over to Wes like an injured fawn, looking at him with pleading, pitiful eyes.

"I suppose I can be kind for once." Wes sighed helplessly, then sat cross-legged.

"First of all, Professor Snape is a Potions Master. Do you know what a Potions Master is?"

The three children looked at one another, then all shook their heads.

"Right now, in the entire British Wizarding World, Professor Snape is the only person everyone recognizes as a Potions Master."

After hearing Wes's explanation, the three children's eyes widened in astonishment, their mouths unconsciously forming O-shapes.

"So he's that impressive."

Harry did not really understand what being a Potions Master meant, but he knew that being the only one in all of Britain was enough to prove that Professor Snape's abilities were extraordinary.

Hermione, however, still refused to concede. "That only proves that Professor Snape has profound expertise in potions. It doesn't completely rule out his suspicion."

Ron nodded beside her in agreement.

Wes sighed helplessly. "I really don't know why you all have such a deep prejudice against Professor Snape."

"Since Professor Snape is a Potions Master, wouldn't it be effortless for him to concoct a lethal poison? Why would he cast a spell on Harry's broom in front of everyone? Wouldn't that make it far too easy to expose himself?"

Hermione had no rebuttal for the moment, because what Wes said did make sense.

"But Harry's broom really did behave strangely at the time."

Hermione scratched her head in frustration. A clue she had finally found had been dismissed just like that.

"Then someone else put a dark curse on the broom, while Professor Snape was actually chanting a counterspell. He was protecting Harry in secret."

"Protecting me? Professor Snape?" Harry's eyes went wide with disbelief.

"The culprit was at the scene," Hermione said decisively, but then her gaze became confused again. "Who could it be?"

The three children all turned hopeful eyes toward Wes.

"How would I know?" Wes spread his hands helplessly. "I wasn't there. I didn't see what happened myself."

The three had come full of hope, only to leave disappointed in the end.

"Wes, can you help them?" Hagrid's voice was slightly choked with emotion as he said sorrowfully, "Harry is a poor child."

"Isn't Dumbledore still around? He's always been watching over Harry."

"That's right, Dumbledore is still here." As one of Dumbledore's most devoted followers, Hagrid firmly believed that Dumbledore could solve any problem.

After saying that, Wes flopped back down onto the carpet, relaxing as he continued chatting idly with Hagrid.