An Older Catgirl Mooching a Meal

An Older Catgirl Mooching a Meal—Hagrid skillfully brewed tea for everyone, using Pu'er that Brook had given him.

But aside from Brook, everyone else chose to add sugar to their tea.

What a waste.

Hermione then recounted everything she had seen earlier in minute detail.

Ron instantly bristled. "I knew it! It had to be Snape! He wants to kill you, Harry!"

"Impossible. Why would Snape do that?" Hagrid immediately objected.

Harry then went into detail about his earlier suspicion that Snape wanted to steal whatever Fluffy was guarding.

"You've seen Fluffy? No, wait, why have you seen Fluffy?"

Hagrid's eyes widened as he asked curiously.

"Is that really the important part?" Harry said anxiously. "The important part is that Snape wants to steal that thing."

He felt that Hagrid, like Brook, always focused on the strangest things.

"Impossible. Snape wouldn't do that." Hagrid shook his head like a rattle drum.

"Then why would Snape want to kill Harry?"

Hermione also firmly took Harry's side.

The moment she set Snape's robes on fire, Harry's Flying Broomstick returned to normal.

Could that really have been a coincidence?

She certainly didn't believe so.

"I don't know why Harry's Flying Broomstick acted like that," Hagrid said, frowning as he tried to explain.

"But Snape absolutely couldn't have wanted to hurt Harry, and what Fluffy is guarding has nothing to do with you. It's between Headmaster Dumbledore and Nicolas Flamel..."

"So there's someone called Nicolas Flamel involved too, right?" Harry asked impatiently.

Hagrid was furious, and he looked at Brook as if asking for help.

Everyone else looked at Brook as well.

Brook sighed helplessly.

The Sorting Hat really hadn't put Harry in the wrong House.

"Harry, your guess does have some possibility of being true."

Harry immediately put on a smug expression.

The look in his eyes seemed to say, So you finally admit I was right?

"But have you considered something? What were the odds of killing Harry by making his Flying Broomstick lose control?" Brook asked.

"What do you mean, what were the odds? Harry was more than fifty meters off the ground," Ron rushed to answer, gesturing exaggeratedly at the height in the air. "Falling from that high up, he'd die even if he wasn't crippled."

"Then let me tell you this: the odds of Harry dying, or even getting injured, were zero," Brook said decisively.

"Why?" Harry was full of question marks.

"Leaving aside the fact that I could open a Space Gate to save you at any time, Professor McGonagall and the others had their wands out. With their skill, saving you would have been effortless."

"But that doesn't prove Snape didn't do it," Harry argued.

"True, but unless Snape's brain was full of cogon grass at that moment, he wouldn't try to kill you in front of everyone."

Seeing that Harry wanted to argue again, Brook continued.

"You'd better look into Snape's standing in the Potions world. If he wanted to kill you, honestly, it'd be easier than crushing an ant, and no one would ever trace it back to him."

"No matter what you say, I still think it was Snape, and I'm going to keep investigating this," Harry said stubbornly.

"That's your right, isn't it?"

Brook shrugged, too lazy to persuade him any further.

He had already done all he could by saying that much.

And he suddenly realized that he might have a bit of a problem.

Lecturing people had been what annoyed him most when he was little, yet now he was doing the exact same thing to Harry.

He really needed to rein himself in from now on. It was normal for bratty kids to be a little naïve.

Why did he have to insist on changing their minds?

In the end, the gathering broke up on an unhappy note.

Harry and Ron returned to the castle.

Brook and Hermione stayed behind to have Hot Pot with Hagrid.

The Black Lake was frozen over by then, but Hagrid had somehow gotten hold of a basket of Gulping Plimpies.

They looked a little like pufferfish, but they weren't poisonous.

Other than their heads, the entire fish was boneless.

They were practically perfect for Hot Pot.

"Brook, do you really think it wasn't Snape? But what happened this afternoon was far too much of a coincidence."

Hermione leaned close to Brook's ear and whispered.

She didn't want Hagrid to hear, or he would definitely object again.

"Nothing is ever one hundred percent certain. But it's very unlikely Snape would use such a lame method."

Brook didn't remember the plot very clearly, but Snape had taught at Hogwarts for years.

If he had really wanted to kill the Chosen One, to kill Dumbledore's beloved favorite—

there was no way he could have continued living peacefully under Dumbledore's nose.

"I want to help Harry investigate it," Hermione said firmly.

"Of course. Go for it. I'll cover for you," Brook encouraged her.

A sweet smile appeared on Hermione's face.

For the first time, Brook reached his chopsticks into the clear broth.

The fish was tender and springy, its delicious flavor blooming across his tongue in an instant.

The simmered broth was even more savory and fragrant, leaving an endless aftertaste.

They were eating Hot Pot and chatting away when an unexpected guest arrived.

Perhaps the tempting aroma of the Gulping Plimpies had drifted through the doors and windows of Hagrid's Hut, all the way to Hogwarts.

It had actually drawn over the older catgirl, Professor McGonagall.

"I've always heard that you have Special Meals at Hagrid's place. I didn't expect it to be true!"

Professor McGonagall wore a gentle smile.

Hermione stood up at once, her voice carrying a trace of nervousness. "Professor McGonagall."

Hagrid scratched his head sheepishly. "Minerva..."

"Professor, if you don't mind, have some with us. We happen to have many questions about Transfiguration that we'd like to ask you."

Unlike the others, Brook wasn't so reserved and invited her directly.

Professor McGonagall hesitated.

She had indeed been drawn over by the smell, and she really wanted to eat.

But if she actually ate with students, it didn't seem to fit her usual image or status.

Yet her eyes kept unconsciously drifting toward the pot. Brook had already noticed that hungry-cat look on her face.

So Brook took Professor McGonagall's hand and led her to a seat.

Professor McGonagall was a little surprised by the sudden gesture and gave Brook a reproachful look.

Brook smiled faintly. He was young, after all, so doing something a little improper wasn't a big deal.

He directly fished out a whole fish, placed it on a plate, then ladled out a large bowl of fish soup and set it in front of Professor McGonagall.

Hermione hurriedly brought over a knife and fork as well.

Looking at the fish before her, Professor McGonagall couldn't help swallowing.

She took a bottle of pink-glowing drink from her pocket.

"Thank you, everyone. I happen to have a bottle of Fizzing Whizbees here. Consider it a return gift."

Brook didn't stand on ceremony. He accepted the Fizzing Whizbees and poured a cup for everyone.

Well!

Hagrid's cup was rather large.

That little amount wasn't even enough for one mouthful.

"To Professor McGonagall," Brook said, raising his cup.

Everyone raised their cups and took a sip.

Then they all let out a breath at the same time.

A string of pink bubbles floated from their mouths.

The atmosphere immediately became much more relaxed and cheerful.

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