A magical object?
Scott looked down at the pile of fragments on the ground.
The magic in many enchanted objects had little connection to their users' magic, which undoubtedly made it harder to identify the culprit.
Just then, a commotion arose outside the Quidditch Pitch.
Scott looked up. Headmaster Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall were approaching across the lawn, followed by a large crowd of students eager to see what had happened.
The commotion they had caused was certainly considerable.
Not only had there been an explosion in the sky above the pitch, but Cho Chang had then broken the rules by flying into the castle on her broom. Before anyone who saw her could react, she had rushed straight into Professor Flitwick's office and flown back out with him.
By now, most of Hogwarts probably knew that something big had happened on the Quidditch Pitch.
"Filius." Dumbledore called Professor Flitwick's name from a distance. "What happened?"
"Oh, you're here!" Professor Flitwick turned and waved repeatedly. "Albus, Minerva, come and take a look."
Headmaster Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall hurried over and followed Professor Flitwick's gesture, looking at the pile of fragments on the ground.
"What is this?" Professor McGonagall's eyes widened in surprise. "A broomstick?"
Professor Flitwick nodded. "That's right. Davis's broomstick suddenly exploded just now. Fortunately, Trollope noticed something was wrong with it beforehand."
Then, as he recounted what had happened, he gave Scott a glowing commendation.
"Impressive." Dumbledore winked at Scott. "May I call you Scott, Mr. Trollope?"
Scott gave him a polite smile. "Of course, Headmaster."
Dumbledore smiled too. "Oh, my boy, I hope you'll call me Professor Dumbledore."
He was very friendly toward Scott. "I must say, I've heard about you for a long time, Scott. You may not know it, but many of your professors have praised you in their conversations, especially Professor Flitwick and Professor McGonagall."
Scott didn't pretend to be shy or modest. Instead, he smiled confidently and said, "I'm honored."
Although this was his first conversation with Dumbledore, he knew perfectly well that there was no point in pretending to be someone else in front of the old man.
His instincts told him that the lively blue eyes could easily see through most people's true natures. It wasn't Legilimency, but experience, wisdom, and a sense for magic.
Especially the sense for magic. Scott knew that well from his own experience.
"You really are an outstanding student, and your actions in the face of an unexpected incident are also worthy of praise," Dumbledore said with a sigh. "But unfortunately, since Professor Flitwick has already awarded you fifty points, I can't give you any more."
He gave Scott another playful wink, then crouched down to examine the remains of the broomstick.
"Did you find anything, Filius?" he asked Professor Flitwick.
"It's a magical object!" Professor Flitwick repeated his conclusion.
"You're quite right."
Dumbledore picked up a wood chip and rubbed it between his fingers. Then, to the students' amazement, he put his fingers in his mouth.
"Hmm... It tastes of a curse." He smacked his lips and gave his verdict as if he were savoring a piece of candy.
Scott watched from the side, astonished too.
Dumbledore was always doing unexpected things. No wonder some people thought he was a crazy old man.
But Scott also understood that the greatest wizard of the age wouldn't go out of his way to do things just to draw attention.
Some of his behavior did seem eccentric and incomprehensible to others, but that was only because ordinary wizards couldn't imagine the level of his magical skill.
Still, Scott wasn't worried that his secrets would be exposed while speaking face-to-face with Dumbledore.
Magic was a power of the mind.
He considered what he had done to those three Pure-blood girls earlier to be little more than a prank. As long as there were no cracks in his mind, Dumbledore wouldn't notice anything.
He even thought the same was true of the Dark Arts. A wizard with a strong mind wouldn't have their temperament easily influenced by the Dark Arts.
He didn't believe Dumbledore couldn't perform a few kinds of Dark Magic. He probably just hadn't studied them in depth.
As for the two wizards, Dumbledore and Voldemort, it was hard to say who was stronger in magic alone. But Scott felt that Dumbledore's mind was definitely far stronger than Voldemort's.
"I can't believe this happened!"
Eddie pushed his way in through the crowd.
"Roger, looks like you'll have to buy a new broomstick!" he teased Roger.
"Maybe it's a good thing?" Roger laughed too. "Now I don't have to make up an excuse to ask my dad for the Galleons to buy a broomstick."
"What kind of broomstick are you going to get?" Eddie moved closer to Roger. "How about a Nimbus 2001?"
"I don't think my dad will be that generous."
Roger and Eddie joked around for a bit, and he seemed to feel a little better.
Just then, Dumbledore stood up.
"Mr. Davis," he asked Roger, "where was your broomstick kept before this?"
"In my dormitory, Professor," Roger replied.
"I'll need to take a look in your dormitory, Davis," said Professor Flitwick.
"Go ahead. I've already learned a little about the situation," Dumbledore said kindly. "But I'm sure your Professor Flitwick will handle this matter well."
He stretched languidly and said, "As for me, I'm sorry, but it's time for my usual afternoon tea."
Professor McGonagall looked at him disapprovingly. "Albus!"
"Oh, don't worry, Minerva." Dumbledore smiled easily. "We only need to wait for the results."
"All right. I hope you're right, Albus," Professor McGonagall conceded.
"Come along. We may find some clues in your dormitory." Professor Flitwick led his students toward the edge of the pitch.
By now, most of the students who didn't have class were probably gathered there. The pitch was almost as lively as it would be during an official Quidditch Match.
News of what had happened had already spread among the students, and they were talking excitedly about the broomstick explosion.
Scott and the others followed Professor Flitwick through the crowd, as if they were being welcomed down a corridor.
"Hey, Roger!"
Fred and George pushed their way to the front of the crowd.
Fred waved with a grin. "Lucky for you, that broomstick didn't blow your arse off!"
"Hey!" Roger glared at them. "Don't tell me this was one of your pranks!"
"Of course it wasn't us!" George said, widening his eyes and looking innocent.
"If it had been us..." Fred rubbed his chin, his eyes lighting up.
"We wouldn't have made the broomstick smoke," George continued. "When it exploded, it would've just blown your trousers right off!"
"Exactly!" Fred gave a thumbs-up. "That's a brilliant idea. Thanks, Roger!"
"You two gloating bastards!"
Roger didn't want to deal with them anymore. He stormed off ahead.
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