At noon on March 1, in Professor McGonagall's office, Brian concealed a perfume bottle in his hand and said solemnly, "Minerva, do you trust me?"
Professor McGonagall adjusted her glasses, considered for a few seconds, and said, "Ah, this question really deserves a serious answer. The answer is-of course, Chet. Although the time you've been at Hogwarts... you've already won most people's trust, including mine."
"Thank you, Minerva. Then, please turn into a cat," Brian said gratefully. "
Ge."
"Turn into a cat?" Somewhat puzzled, Professor McGonagall put down the Transfiguration homework in her hand, stared... hesitated for a while, and said, "Now?"
"Yes, now." Brian nodded and secretly squeezed the Perfume Bottle in his hand.
"I'll explain the reasons in detail."
Brian, I was pleasantly surprised to receive your letter-it seems the connection between us... that incident, I remember it very clearly. Even in my long life, it was... Troll saliva. Yes, Troll saliva. I haven't used the wrong metaphor.
That reporter's nose was simply keener than a Dragon's-he actually managed, relying on intuition,
...the underground cabin. At the time, I was concentrating on researching something that could entice young Dragons to relieve themselves in a designated spot... you should be able to imagine that the posture wasn't very elegant.
"Suddenly, that reporter fell down with his camera raised-he really gave me quite a fright... you wouldn't believe it-he actually managed to find the right angle in midair and photograph me lowering my head... naturally, under his deliberate or inadvertent hints, I had no choice but to accept his interview... he was indeed threatening me with the photograph, and I still wasn't talking nonsense-yes, what was in the report... the conclusion reached after careful study.
"As for that remarkably bold reporter... after I cooperated with him to complete the