Harry... Got It!

"What do you mean?" Madam Hooch asked.

"I just examined the residual magical circuitry on this set of balls. It was extremely sturdy—there was no way some mischievous young wizard could have erased it."

"So?"

"That meant it could only have been done by a highly skilled professor. Someone at Hogwarts had ulterior motives," Kayson explained.

"Then... will this affect the start of the Quidditch Cup?"

"...Uh..."

"That's the situation. Since Madam Hooch is so unreliable, I went to Dumbledore and asked him to let me come inspect all your flying brooms before the Quidditch Cup begins, as well as the match balls."

"Most flying brooms have magical circuitry to guard against malicious curses, but if that person could tamper with the Quidditch balls, there's no guarantee they couldn't tamper with your brooms too."

As Kayson held the Enchanting Table and re-enchanted the Golden Snitch in his hand, he explained things to Harry beside him.

"Mr. Wood, the Golden Snitch." After re-enchanting the last ball, he called to Oliver Wood.

"Oh, thank you, Professor."

"You're welcome. Bring all your brooms over. I'll inspect them one by one, and I may need to re-enchant them."

Kayson took out a quill and rewrote the runic characters for broom-specific defensive curses in his book.

Then, broom after broom swept across the Enchanting Table as though standing in line. One after another, the brooms glowing with purple light returned to their owners' hands.

"Slytherin students, please come over for a broom inspection."

The Slytherin players gathered around as well.

"Professor Kayson, I'm Marcus Flint of the Flint family." Marcus, the Slytherin captain, held out his hand to Kayson.

"Pleased to meet you, Marcus." Kayson shook Flint's hand. "Your brooms."

"Uh, Professor Kayson, surely there's no need for Slytherin to do this?"

"In my eyes, you are all fragile young wizards. Regrettably, I cannot take that risk. Nor do I want you to regard yourselves as reserve Dark Wizards. Don't think Dark Wizards will show you mercy either," Kayson said firmly, shaking his head.

Kayson took a broom, placed it on the Enchanting Table, and began nagging again.

"To be honest, I've never considered you Slytherins to be so-called reserve Dark Wizards, and I don't want you to give up on yourselves by believing that either."

"In other words, I don't want you to develop some strange sense of kinship with Dark Wizards just because some of them were also in Slytherin when they attended Hogwarts. You may feel connected to them, but they certainly won't feel connected to you."

Still nagging as he worked, Kayson finished enchanting the Slytherin students' brooms before picking up the Enchanting Table, shrinking it, and slipping it into his pocket.

"Play well."

As soon as he spoke, a roar rang out. In the next instant, he vanished from where he stood and appeared in the professors' stands.

"You've done me a great favor, Kayson," Dumbledore said with a smile.

"It was nothing, just a small effort. I only hope that scheming fellow is more careful and doesn't let me catch him slipping." Kayson spoke with a gloomy expression, his gaze drifting toward Quirrell seated in front of him, seemingly by accident.

"Don't be like that. Perhaps you should relax a little, Kayson. How did that saying go? Hogwarts is the safest place in the world." Professor Flitwick comforted him from the side.

"Oh, I hope so."

The Quidditch match ended without incident. The whole game had gone remarkably smoothly. As for the winner, the referee said Gryffindor had won, but as for exactly how they had won...

"Forgive me for not seeing it, truly. Dumbledore, a bunch of people flew around in the sky on brooms—I could barely make anything out. Was it really that entertaining?" Kayson complained helplessly as he followed Dumbledore away from the stands.

"That is Quidditch's unique charm. Go borrow a few books from Madam Pince later, and you'll discover the enjoyment hidden within it."

"...I still prefer building things," Kayson grumbled.

"You'll get the chance. As I said, please start with my office."

"Mm-hm. When I have time."

Once he walked down from the stands, Kayson finally returned to his usual pace. He had always disliked walking too quickly.

He preferred to stroll leisurely along the road, feeling the rhythm of a slower life.

Oh, right. There were also fellow enthusiasts who enjoyed moving slowly with him.

Well, apparently not fellow enthusiasts.

"Severus, has your leg still not healed?" Kayson asked quietly as he looked at Snape's limping gait.

"That wound was tainted by Dark Magic, after all."

"Perhaps I could make you a crutch. If you don't like wheelchairs, a cane would work too. An essential for an English gentleman. Or even a scepter."

Without changing his expression, Kayson wrapped an arm around Snape's shoulders and lifted upward. From behind, it looked as though they had their arms slung around each other.

For example...

"I really can't believe Professor Kayson and Snape are actually that close." The four of them followed Kayson and Snape from afar, while Ron wore an astonished expression.

"Professor Kayson gets along well with everyone, but why is he like that even with Snape..." Harry muttered unhappily.

"Wow, Harry, you just won the match. Why do you seem so upset?" Ron asked in confusion.

"Of course, because Professor Kayson has been deceived by a Dark Wizard!"

"What do you mean?"

"Didn't I go to the library to borrow books before? Then I ran into Snape. He lifted his trouser leg in the stairwell and poured a bottle of red potion over it. And that wound looked like it had been bitten by some kind of beast," Harry said vividly.

"Are you saying that wound was bitten by that three-headed dog? But that still doesn't prove he's a Dark Wizard, does it?" Hermione said.

"Of course I have evidence. Remember that day, in the room where the three-headed dog was kept? Do you remember what was underneath it?" Harry looked at his three companions.

Neville shook his head. "My memory isn't very good."

"There was something underneath the three-headed dog?" Ron remained reliably clueless.

"...A trapdoor?" Hermione recalled.

"That trapdoor. Combined with the fact that the three-headed dog was kept there, it proves something was hidden beneath it. And that thing should have been hidden by Dumbledore, while the three-headed dog was there to guard it." Harry spoke with a knowing expression.