Dumbledore's Crooked Nose

It was the weekend again in the blink of an eye.

Ever since Professor Slughorn had revealed news of the conflict, Loren and the others had been looking for a chance to speak with Dumbledore and, while they were at it, learn certain things from the headmaster. Unfortunately, Dumbledore had not appeared in public for a week, and his office had remained empty. No one knew where he had gone into hiding.

The matter was left hanging for the time being. After all, essays and reports took up nearly all the young wizards' free time, and Hermione could barely spare any time to investigate the Ministry of Magic and the Death Eaters.

Of course, she did not have many channels to begin with.

Loren took it in stride. As students who had yet to graduate, they could not influence the situation anyway. They might as well relax and wait to see how things developed.

Harry and Ron did not care about studying, nor did they have the attention to spare for the state of affairs. They were even busier than Hermione. Every day, they hastily finished their schoolwork before rushing straight to the Quidditch Pitch, throwing themselves fully into Quidditch practice as they prepared for the season's first match—and the first match for this new team.

A classic draw: Gryffindor versus Slytherin.

Fortunately, temperatures had dropped quickly this winter, and they had not encountered much stormy weather, so they did not have to practice in wind and rain.

It was said that the new players' skills had improved rapidly, but they had not built up enough mental resilience. Most of them were so nervous they could not eat breakfast, especially the new team captain and keeper. Captain Weasley was pale with nerves, his hand shaking uncontrollably as he held his