Parting Ways

The Slytherin table was noisy as Viktor Krum was relaying the headmaster's parting words to his classmates in Bulgaria. Grawp he finished speaking, the Durmstrang wizards visibly breathed a sigh of relief.

This academic year studying abroad was incredibly exciting. Not long after arriving at Hogwarts to Defense Against the Dark Arts, I witnessed the Unforgivable Curses in Defense Against the Dark Arts class. The seemingly fierce retired Aurors professor, who had been rehired, told us that their headmaster had once been a magical terrorist on trial...

The Third Task disappeared without a trace as soon as it ended, followed by a thorough search by Ministry of Magic staff... It looked exactly like their headmaster had absconded to escape punishment.

The long tables at the other houses were equally lively. With the most important protagonist, Harry, absent, the curious young wizards could only surround the Champion, bombarding them with questions about the maze's internal structure, the challenges and obstacles they encountered.

Some of the young wizards would even pat their chests and loudly discuss how they would handle the situation; if it were them, they certainly wouldn't let Harry win by chance.

"Cedric, Cedric, who really won in the end?" Justin asked nervously.

Cedric smiled slightly, "It was Harry. He overcame the final hurdle with his strength and wisdom, and walked out of the maze with the trophy."

The young Gryffindor wizards cheered with delight, and the Hufflepuff wizards, after a few seconds of silence, joined in, celebrating the shared honor of Hogwarts.

At the end of the long table, Loren, holding a calendar, was calculating how long the summer vacation would last, with Hermione sitting to his right.

Hermione was unusually quiet as she flipped through the newspaper. Her head was slightly lowered, her fluffy, slightly curly hair fell naturally, her eyebrows were slightly thin and long, her eyelids were slightly lowered, her long eyelashes fluttered occasionally, her slightly upturned nose was delicate and fair, and her slightly thin lips were gently pursed.

Below the top "Daily Prophet," there was a small stack of newspapers, indicating that the author had bought a copy of every newspaper on sale and was checking the news on each page.

Loren pondered for a moment, then nudged the person next to him with his shoulder. "Hermione, this summer vacation is only two months long, so let's not go on a long trip, shall we?"

"Um."

Hermione turned another page of the newspaper in her hand and sighed softly. "I wonder what measures the Ministry of Magic officials will take against Voldemort and the Death Eater. Minister Cornelius Fudge always gives me a feeling that he's unreliable."

"Let's see if they'll believe Harry's story."

"Harry, sign here." Rufus Scrimgeour watched the young wizard solemnly sign his name, and sighed inwardly. "Alright, I've written everything you said down. The relevant departments of the Ministry of Magic will verify it. Go back and enjoy your banquet..."

Harry grinned at the Head of Auror Office, then got up and jogged out of the room, completely ignoring Dolores Umbridge, the Senior Deputy Minister of Magic, who was sitting next to him.

That pink toad is still so disgusting. It's so old, yet its smile is more affected than that of a first-grader.

As Harry's footsteps faded into the distance, Umbridge smiled and looked at the person beside her, "Rufus, the wise Head of Auror Office, you don't really believe this bizarre and absurd fantasy story, do you?"

Rufus Scrimgeour remained silent. Although he personally favored Dumbledore, the story was indeed too absurd. There were too many vague points and too many missing details.

He wasn't sure whether Dumbledore had ordered these details to be concealed, or whether Harry Potter, who had miraculously survived, simply hadn't imagined those details...

"That's hilarious! Dumbledore's gone senile. Anyone with a brain wouldn't believe such a fairy tale." Umbridge covered her mouth and chuckled as she walked toward the door. "I must give the Wizengamot people a piece of my mind... How could a fourth-year wizard possibly escape from the clutches of the Dark Lord?"

Rufus Scrimgeour stared at the signature on the paper, a dark glint in his eyes.

But the boy thwarted that person when he was only one year old.

Thump! Thump! Thump!

A slow but firm knocking sounded. After a slight pause, the black wizard gave the young Witch a look. Just as the young Witch raised her hand to knock again, a steady response came from inside.

"Please come in."

The young Witch and the black wizard in front of the door exchanged glances. The young Witch tilted her head and pushed open the door to the underground office.

The black wizard spotted the Slytherin Head of House behind the desk at a glance. His hair was greasy and somewhat unkempt, even worse than his bald head. The man held a quill pen in his right hand and quickly scribbled on the form. After filling in the last item, he casually put the quill pen into the ink bottle and looked up to meet his gaze.

The young Witch glanced at the Potions Master, then at his hair, and subtly dimmed her own pink hair.

By the dim light, Snape sized up the two people in front of him.

The young Witch's heart-shaped face hadn't changed much from a few years ago, and one could still vaguely see a familiar shadow. Her unnatural hair color was her unique trademark... I still remember when she was in fifth grade, during her Potions Master exam, this little Witch encountered a problem when she was identifying Potions by their color, and she used her own hair as a color chart.

He originally intended to convict the person of cheating, but Head of House Sprout stopped him by offering several Potions plants in exchange.

The black wizard was tall and bald. The office might have been brighter if it weren't for that oddly patterned little round hat. He wore a classic Aurors uniform, with the insignia on his left breast indicating his captaincy.

Kingsley Shacklebolt, captain of the Second Auror Squad of the Ministry of Magic's Auror Office, a member of the Order of the Phoenix... These details flashed through Snape's mind, finally settling into a calm and unhurried question, "What do you need me for?"

Kingsley walked into the dimly lit room, his eyes fixed straight ahead, seemingly oblivious to the various horrifying glass jars on the shelves on either side, and calmly reached out his hand towards the person behind the desk:

"Hello, Professor Snape Severus Snape, I am Kingsley Shacklebolt."

"Hello."

The young Witch smiled smugly, "Nymphadora Tonks, Hufflepuff House, Professor, do you remember me?"

"..." Snape ignored her.

"Thank you for your cooperation." Kingsley Shacklebolt broke the silence with an air of familiarity, his face businesslike, as if he wasn't the one who had taken on this task after receiving Dumbledore's message ten minutes ago. "Next, I will record all your statements regarding the events of last night concerning Crouch father and son, Professor Snape. Before that, I need to examine your wand."

"..." Snape lowered his eyes and silently handed over the wand.

"Forgive my offense..." Kingsley Shacklebolt took the wand and examined it. Tonks meticulously wrote in his notebook, "Birch bark, snake nerve, thirteen and a half inches."

Then Kingsley pointed his wand at the other wand and said in a deep voice, "[Prior Incantato]".

The birchwood wand, coated with tung oil, trembled slightly, releasing a puff of gray smoke from its tip. In the hazy mist, a swirling vortex coalesced, followed by a quietly burning flame and a clear, explosive sound...

Tonks wrote down the following in his notebook: [Whizbangs] [Fire Charm] [Apparition]...

"The spells cast last night will be cross-referenced with the written records. Professor Snape, I need to know some details, including the context in which these spells were used and the specific time they were cast."

Snape, without a trace of impatience, calmly replied, "The previous spells were cast after we returned to the Castle, for some light Potions- related research..."

"I noticed that there were no spells used for dueling in last night's spell log. Does that mean you didn't have a direct confrontation with Crouch father and son, Professor Snape?"

Snape frowned slightly, as if recalling what happened last night. After a pause, he nodded. "You could say that."

"..."