Confrontation with Dumbledore

Chapter 37: A Direct Confrontation with Dumbledore

The Troll invasion at Hogwarts didn't stir up much of a stir across the campus.

The young witches and wizards still went about their business as usual.

Well, not exactly.

Ron was an exception.

He enthusiastically recounted his heroic deeds in battling the Troll to anyone willing to listen.

Neville was his most devoted audience.

Every time, he looked at Ron with eyes full of admiration, which filled Ron with immense satisfaction.

But Ron also knew what to say and what not to say.

Whenever he touched on the key moment when Brook defeated the Troll, he always glossed over it, brushing past it in a single sentence.

Of course, that might also have been because he was afraid of being overshadowed by Brook.

But he didn't breathe a word about the secret of Brook's ring space.

Ron came from a pure-blood wizarding family, so his understanding of magical items like the Undetectable Extension Charm was naturally greater than most.

He'd never heard of an Undetectable Extension Charm item in the shape of a ring.

The one on Brook's hand might be illegal.

If his big mouth caused trouble for Brook, that was something he absolutely couldn't do.

The Troll incident also brought the "Golden Trio" back into alignment.

No, it should be four people now.

It's just that Brook was usually busy with farm affairs.

That passively pushed Hermione together with Harry and Ron.

Ron cautiously sidled up to Hermione.

"Hermione, can I borrow your homework for reference?"

"No, homework needs to be done independently so you can truly learn the knowledge."

Hermione refused without hesitation.

Ron was a bit aggrieved and muttered under his breath, "Then why are you willing to help Brook with his homework?"

Hermione: (ꈍᴗꈍ)

She retorted without a shred of shame or guilt.

"His spellwork is better than mine, so he doesn't need homework to reinforce it."

Brook had indeed copied her homework before.

But ever since he got the farm, Brook's workload had skyrocketed.

She wanted him to have more rest time, so she took the initiative to help him with his homework.

Since it was all copying anyway, she might as well just do it for him directly.

Harry tugged at Ron.

Ron, don't you have any clue about your own standing?

Comparing yourself to Brook? Dream on.

"Hermione, we're just making stuff up when we write our homework. If we could take a look at yours, we might actually learn something. Can't you cut us some slack..."

Hermione looked at Harry's pitiful expression and felt she really couldn't be too hypocritical.

She huffed, then got up and walked toward the bookshelf. "I'm going to find a book to read."

Ron watched Hermione's retreating figure, his face scrunched up like a bitter gourd, sighing heavily.

"Ugh, what am I going to do? Potions homework is way too hard."

Harry patted Ron on the head, speaking with a tone of exasperation.

"You idiot! Hermione didn't take her homework with her."

Ron was stunned for a moment, then caught on.

"Ah! Right! Hurry, hurry!"

The two quickly spread Hermione's homework out between them and started scribbling away, copying furiously.

After Brook finished harvesting the peaches on the farm, he finally had some free time.

He busied himself on the farm for a while longer, then headed to the library.

He needed to look up some household magic or spells suitable for farm use.

But just as he reached the library entrance, Hermione rushed out in a panic and bumped straight into him.

"So... sorry." Hermione covered her forehead, apologizing repeatedly.

Brook watched Hermione in this state and found it rather amusing.

"Hermione, what's wrong? Why the rush?"

"Ah! Brook, I was just looking for you."

Hermione looked up, and upon seeing Brook, a flicker of surprise lit up her eyes.

"Looking for me? Something happen?"

"It's not me—it's Headmaster Dumbledore looking for you."

As she spoke, Hermione pulled a note from her pocket and handed it to Brook.

Brook took the note. It read:

"Miss Granger, please pass this note to Mr. Lott.

Mr. Lott, I hope you can find time to visit the Headmaster's office.

The entrance is at the stone gargoyle on the third-floor corridor.

The Lemon Sherbet tastes quite good."

Brook's eyes lit up. This was what he'd been waiting for.

He hadn't expected Dumbledore to want to see him so soon.

He'd had his eye on the Hogwarts House Elves for a long time.

Sure, he could order his own elf, An An, around.

But without Dumbledore's say-so, a lot of things felt too restrictive.

That was exactly why he'd deliberately brought out modern weapons and left them behind.

To catch Dumbledore's attention.

To make him investigate, to understand.

To force him into taking the initiative to meet.

Of course, he could have sought out Dumbledore himself.

But then the upper hand in negotiations wouldn't be his.

"If the Headmaster's summoning me, I'll head over now."

"Mm-hmm." Hermione nodded quickly.

In her eyes, Dumbledore's status was supremely lofty.

Back when she chose Gryffindor, it was largely because of Dumbledore too.

That Brook had earned a private summons from Dumbledore still made her envious.

Brook ruffled Hermione's hair, then turned and headed for the third floor.

He'd passed that stone gargoyle many times during class, so the route wasn't unfamiliar.

The gargoyle before him had a bizarre shape, its silhouette like a lioness.

But its nose and eyes were more human-like.

"Lemon Sherbet."

The stone gargoyle sprang aside as if activated, the wall behind it slowly splitting in two, revealing a stone staircase.

"Thanks." Brook murmured his thanks, then stepped onto the stairs.

Before he could even lift his foot to climb, the wall behind him snapped shut.

At the same time, the stairs began to slowly spiral upward.

"A magical elevator? Interesting."

Soon the stairs reached the top and came to a smooth stop.

Brook stepped off and arrived at an oak door.

The door was fitted with a knocker shaped like a griffin.

He knocked politely.

"Come in." Dumbledore's voice came from behind the door, which swung open on its own.

Brook stepped into the Headmaster's office.

A circular room greeted his eyes.

On a shelf above claw-shaped table legs sat the Sorting Hat.

Portraits of past headmasters lined the walls, all dozing now, occasionally letting out soft snores.

Fawkes the phoenix was napping on his golden perch.

If Brook had to describe him, he looked more like a chicken with a few curly feathers on its head.

On the desk, a peculiar instrument hummed and spun, emitting wisps of smoke.

And, of course, the two weapons Brook had deliberately left behind were also laid out.

"Good afternoon, Headmaster Dumbledore."

"Mr. Lott, please have a seat. Would you like something to drink?" Dumbledore asked gently.

"No, Headmaster."

Brook refused outright.

With his knowledge of Dreamless Sleep, he naturally understood Veritaserum.

He wouldn't casually drink anything Dumbledore offered.