Tongue-Locking Charm! Malfoy!

And just as Dumbledore had said, Christmas was coming.

Glenn had no idea what the other Houses were doing.

But in Slytherin, most students weren't planning to stay at Hogwarts. As they put it, a hard-won holiday like this needed to be put to the best possible use—for example, socializing.

"We're having a huge party over the Christmas holidays. Guess who didn't get invited?"

Early in the morning, Malfoy had already started saying things that were hard to stomach.

Of course, by "hard to stomach," I didn't mean Glenn.

I meant Blaise Zabini, who stood behind Malfoy.

Although his face still looked calm, the veins on his neck were starting to bulge, and he was toying with a vase in his hand.

If Malfoy said much more, Blaise really couldn't guarantee that the vase wouldn't come crashing down on Malfoy's head.

That was because the party Malfoy was talking about was actually a memorial for Blaise's father—or, more accurately, his stepfather.

Nearly everyone attending privately joked that it was a party, and Blaise himself didn't particularly care. This was his fifth stepfather, after all, and he'd barely met the man, let alone grown attached to him.

But making that kind of joke right to his face was, admittedly, rather impolite.

Fortunately, Malfoy was in a good mood after becoming Slytherin's Seeker. He didn't say anything more, and left with Pansy and his two lackeys, humming a tune.

Judging by the way Blaise set down the vase, this had also successfully saved their rather outspoken Slytherin classmate from a bloody fate.

"With a mouth like Malfoy's, has he really never been beaten up?" Blaise asked Glenn, watching Malfoy's retreating back.

"I've beaten him up."

"Good."

Blaise's mood improved at once. Knowing the classmate beside him, Malfoy had surely learned his lesson more than once.

In fact, that was exactly right, even though several months had already passed.

Malfoy still often dreamed about the "wonderful" flavors of Every-Flavour Beans. He would wake in a cold sweat and sit bolt upright in bed. It had only gotten better recently, after he became a Quidditch player.

"Won't you get bored staying at Hogwarts? We've still got seven more years here. If you're not going home, you might as well go somewhere fun. If you can't find anywhere, you can come to my place. We could take the chance to beat Malfoy up again. I can bring a sack." At that, Blaise couldn't keep the grin from spreading across his face.

He could already picture it. There wouldn't be any prefects around to supervise them, either.

It was tempting, but Glenn still turned him down.

Blaise didn't press the matter.

After chatting a little longer, they got up and headed to the Underground Classroom for their last lesson before the holidays: Professor Snape's Potions Class.

During the joint Potions Class with Gryffindor, Draco Malfoy once again showed off his talent for running his mouth.

When Harry and Ron entered the classroom, he looked at them and said loudly, "I really feel sorry for those people. They have to stay at Hogwarts for Christmas because their families don't want them."

"Blaise, did you bring a sack?" Though he said it aloud, Glenn had already drawn his wand and cast a Tongue-Locking Charm.

"Mm, mm..." Malfoy turned around, looking incredulous.

No one could make out what he was saying.

The Tongue-Locking Charm made its target sound like a mute.

"I'll try to come prepared next time," Blaise said, spreading his hands.

After the last class before the holidays ended, the usually lively Slytherin Common Room grew quiet all at once.

For Glenn, however, that was a good thing.

With students coming and going all day, there were too many eyes and ears around, making a lot of things inconvenient.

Now, during the holidays, he could finally take care of them properly.

The Giant Squid slapped at the Common Room's floor-to-ceiling windows. A fire crackled in the hearth, driving away the winter chill.

Glenn sat in a rocking chair, recalling his conversation with Professor Dumbledore.

People said this professor was the greatest wizard of the twentieth century. In 1945, he had defeated the Dark wizard Gellert Grindelwald and brought down the Wizarding Reich. He had also researched The Twelve Uses of Dragon's Blood with Nicolas Flamel...

Though he had been gentle and discreet about it,

Glenn had still noticed that his junior had used Legilimency on him.

The name "Legilimency" did sound rather frightening, but the magic itself didn't cause any real harm.

Its main purpose was to hear other people's thoughts.

It also had quite severe limitations. For instance, when someone's thoughts were scattered, it became harder to extract anything.

And if the target's mind was calm, it was difficult to find what you wanted in there.

That was even more true of wizards who knew how to use Occlumency.

To use Legilimency on them and get anything out of it, you needed an overwhelming advantage in magical power.

As for Glenn, he had used the same magic from the moment he was Sorted.

Not even Dumbledore—and not even the Sorting Hat, which had been there since Hogwarts was built—had noticed that he had sealed away part of his memories.

"Should I call him cautious, or suspicious? Or are they two sides of the same coin?"

Sitting in the rocking chair, Glenn formed an initial judgment of Dumbledore, his junior from the same era.

If he could go to such lengths even with a newly enrolled student,

then it was safe to say that Professor Quirrell, whose suspiciousness couldn't have been more obvious, was already under his watch.

Judging by what had happened during the Quidditch Match, Professor Snape was probably the one in charge of keeping an eye on him.

Still, if any of the other professors or students knew about this, they would probably be disappointed.

Compared to Dumbledore, who kept danger right beside him, Professor Figg's assignments sometimes practically spelled it out: "Go on, kid. Take out that nest of Dark wizards."

Of course, that was an exaggeration.

But if you were sent to investigate something in a nest of Dark wizards or Goblins, the result was hardly any different.

Thinking about it, it wasn't at all clear who was worse...

Glenn felt that, after spending some time at Hogwarts, he had more or less established himself.

He could start investigating how Harry had gotten that scar. Of course, his parents had definitely cast the Blood Protection Charm.

But the important question was: where had his parents learned it?

Glenn didn't plan to ask Harry about it. Mainly because he already had, and Harry knew even less about his parents than Glenn did. At least Glenn knew the scar was a trace of Ancient Magic.

"Then if I want to investigate this, I'll have to start with those who lived through those days."

But first, he couldn't make it too obvious. Since there were signs of something stirring, he'd wait until the fish took a firmer bite.

There was no point waiting another hundred years.

At that thought, a flash of red suddenly crossed Glenn's eyes.

The fire in the hearth dwindled until only embers remained. It looked ready to die out, but a gust of wind blew through, and a small flame sprang up once more.