Dumbledore's Unease

Chapter 36: Dumbledore's Unease

"Then why didn't you inform us?" Professor McGonagall looked at Hermione and the others.

"Perhaps it's because concern clouds judgment," Brook spoke up to explain for them.

"As friends, they were so worried about me that they forgot the simplest method and instead chose a brave path, willing to risk themselves for a friend. That's very Gryffindor, isn't it?"

Snape let out a soft snort through his nose.

He wanted to say, Rash and foolish lions.

But with Professor McGonagall present, he wisely held his tongue.

Still, his gaze at Brook was full of approval.

He wondered whether to suggest sorting Brook into a different house.

He felt that if Brook dropped his Occlumency, he'd definitely end up in Slytherin.

Professor McGonagall's look at the three softened noticeably, a trace of approval in her eyes.

"Though understandable, it's still a rule violation. The three of you, five points each."

Harry and Ron: →→ ←←

Delight sparkled in their eyes—just a point deduction, no big deal.

But Hermione's heart felt a bit sour.

Not because this was the first time Gryffindor lost points due to her.

She didn't regret notifying Brook.

It was just that without her interference, Brook would have been fine long ago.

That stung.

Professor McGonagall turned to Brook, a warm smile on her face.

A smile they'd never seen on her before.

"Brook, being inadvertently caught up in the Troll incident was our fault as professors. And you helped subdue the Troll. Gryffindor gains thirty points, and this will be recorded in the trophy room."

"Thank you, Professor." Brook silently gave Professor McGonagall a mental 666.

This mix of deductions and additions upheld the fairness of the rules while showing what behavior was worth encouraging.

"Head back to the common room now. Brook, you haven't eaten yet—there should still be some food there," Professor McGonagall said with concern.

"Goodbye, Professor McGonagall, Professor Snape, Professor Quirrell." Brook politely bid the three professors farewell.

Then the four of them headed toward the Gryffindor common room.

"Thank you, Harry, Ron." Brook expressed his gratitude.

Harry quickly waved his hand, a bit embarrassed. "We didn't really help—we just made a mess. Otherwise, you could've earned Gryffindor even more points."

Ron stammered without speaking, but his face flushed instantly.

"Whether you helped or not is different from whether you were willing to help. And like I said, your bravery and willingness to risk yourselves for a friend are what I need to thank you for." Brook's tone was serious.

Harry and Ron grew even more embarrassed, but felt genuinely happy inside.

Only then did Brook learn from Hermione that she had come alone, and Harry and Ron had spotted her leaving the group and volunteered to help.

Brook didn't want to get tangled in Harry and Voldemort's love-hate saga.

But this incident showed him that Harry was indeed a friend worth having.

Never mind his skill level—when trouble came, he showed up.

Brook had no interest in the leftover scraps in the common room.

Since Hermione, Harry, and Ron hadn't eaten their fill either, he led them into the ring space and whipped up a hotpot.

Of course, he didn't reveal the full scope of the space to Harry and Ron.

Instead, he directly brought them into the house within the space.

The outer area was sealed off with a thin mist.

Harry's jaw nearly hit the floor.

He never imagined Brook had such a magical space.

Ron, though envious of Brook having his own house, was much calmer.

He patiently explained the principle of the Undetectable Extension Charm to Harry.

Harry finally understood and exclaimed, "So wizards have such amazing tricks—it's incredible!"

Soon, a steaming hotpot was set on the table, its rich aroma filling the air.

This little hotpot meal made everyone thoroughly happy.

Especially Ron.

It was as if all his talent points had been dumped into eating.

Eating hotpot naturally required chopsticks, but that stumped Harry and Ron.

They could only clumsily hold one chopstick in each hand, carefully fishing for ingredients in the pot.

Painfully slow.

If you can't find the book by title, try searching by author—maybe it just got renamed!

If Brook hadn't deliberately slowed down his pace, Ron wouldn't have even gotten a slice of meat before it was all gone.

Ron ate for a while, then suddenly gave up.

But he didn't give up eating—he gave up on chopsticks.

He pulled out his wand, pointed it at the lamb in the hotpot, and used the Levitation Charm.

The slices of lamb obediently floated into his bowl.

Then he leisurely picked up a fork and dug in with gusto.

Brook, Hermione, and Harry stared, dumbfounded.

They were utterly amazed.

Beyond that, Ron had a peculiar obsession with spice.

He had zero interest in the clear broth pot, fixating only on the Spicy Pot.

His lips were bright red from the heat, sweat pouring down like rain, making his red hair seem even more vivid.

But he kept "hissing and puffing" while shoveling food from the spicy pot into his mouth.

Over here, Brook and the others were enjoying themselves, but over there, Dumbledore was having a rough time.

The Troll invasion was just a minor episode in his eyes, hardly affecting his mood.

He even already knew who was behind it.

He was just keeping that "pawn" around to train Harry.

But when the portrait relayed what Brook had said to Hermione, word for word, without missing a single detail—

His face instantly turned grave.

He stared at the RPG-7 rocket launcher and the Degtyaryov machine gun, which Brook had either forgotten or deliberately left behind at the scene, and fell into deep silence.

Though he lived in the Magical World, Dumbledore always kept a close watch on technological developments in the Muggle world, never daring to slack off.

Gellert Grindelwald's prophecy often echoed in his mind.

Even if the whole world didn't believe Gellert's words, he had always held them as true.

Because of that, he fully understood the power of these modern weapons.

Especially those two "Big Gudus" that exploded in the footbath—he had personally gone to see the site.

If Brook really had those weapons, blowing Hogwarts to bits wasn't an empty threat.

And Brook clearly knew the portrait would relay messages to him.

Yet he still blatantly displayed these weapons, which were clearly not meant for fighting Trolls.

That made the whole thing even more intriguing.

He couldn't help muttering to himself, "Are you showing off?"

"If you have nothing else, I'll leave."

Snape stood to the side, growing impatient from the wait.

He hadn't caught what Dumbledore was mumbling.

After handing over those two odd-looking objects to Dumbledore, the man had sunk into thought.

Five minutes had passed.

As if his time was worthless.

And his leg was still injured.

If Professor McGonagall hadn't been busy handling the aftermath of the Troll incident, he wouldn't have bothered coming to the headmaster's office to report.

Dumbledore snapped back to reality. "Severus, how's your leg?"

"Not dead yet."

"Cough, cough," Dumbledore said, a bit embarrassed. "Has Mr. Lott been acting unusually lately?"

"Does skipping Defense Against the Dark Arts count?" Snape shot Dumbledore a challenging look.

He had applied for the Defense Against the Dark Arts post countless times, but that fool Quirrell had snatched it away.

"I already knew that. Anything else?"

Dumbledore's deep blue eyes locked onto Snape intently.

Seeing Dumbledore's serious expression, Snape straightened up as well.

"Lott got quite a few plants from Pomona, but no one knows where he planted them. He's also been supplying the kitchen with a fair amount of vegetables—probably using an Undetectable Extension Charm item."

He paused, then added, "As for anything unusual, Lott's basically vanished after class these days. Miss Know-It-All's been going to the library alone lately—he's slacking off on his studies."

"That's Miss Granger." Dumbledore corrected, then sank back into thought.

"Fine, I'll be off then."

"Keep an eye on Mr. Lott for me recently. I want to know what he's been up to."

"Hmph!" Snape snorted. "Potter, Quirrell, and Lott—do you think I have nothing better to do?"

Dumbledore's old face looked a bit awkward. "Just do what you can."

Snape didn't bother with Dumbledore anymore. He turned and limped away.

Dumbledore stared at the two modern weapons on the table, lost in thought once more.

"Time for a meeting, little one. I imagine you're thinking the same."