Hogsmeade, a place teeming with hooded men, is the perfect meeting place for spies.
The two could brush past each other in a crowd, exchange a few words in a corner of a shop, or even use Harry's black dog to transform into a large black dog and run around the alley, and all the news would be spread.
Herman mentally went through the whole chain of events, and the more he thought about it, the more reasonable it seemed.
At that moment, a wail rang out from the other end of the Slytherin table.
The sound was so loud that the entire Great Hall could hear it, like a cat whose tail had been stepped on. The wailing lasted for several seconds, and then the sound subsided, but if you listened carefully, you could still hear sobbing.
Draco looked curiously in the direction of the sound and muttered, "Who is it?"
Harry didn't even turn her head, didn't look, and didn't even stop cutting her knife and fork. She casually said, " Terence, I guess. After all, four or five people were kidnapped from his house. He's the most unlucky one."
Draco paused for a moment, then nodded, her tone filled with genuine sympathy. "It really is quite tragic. Was it reported in the newspapers? Didn't they not mention the specific details of the kidnapping?"
She said she thought she had missed something, so she quickly looked at the newspaper in her hand again, flipping from the front page to the third page, and then from the third page back to the front page.
Herman noticed that Harry's lips curved slightly when Draco looked down at the newspaper.
The smile was much more pronounced than before, carrying the glee of someone who had successfully pulled off a prank, like a child who had stolen fruit from someone else's garden and then stood there nonchalantly watching the gardener wander around.
Herman looked at the wicked smile on Harry's face and was now 100% certain that it was Harley who did it.
Moreover, the selection of personnel was clearly influenced by personal grudges and retaliation.
Terence, the former Seeker for the Quidditch team, said in front of everyone at practice a few days ago that Harry got the job through connections, that Seeker in her first year, and that she shouldn't ruin her pretty little face.
Then, just two days later, four or five people were kidnapped from his home.
There's no such thing as a coincidence in this world. Harry really knows when to settle scores and doesn't want to drag things out.
Friday arrived in the blink of an eye.
Kramer's materials hadn't arrived yet, and the owl hadn't come again. Every morning when Herman walked into the Great Hall, he would subconsciously glance at the long table to see if any new packages had arrived, but nothing had come for several days in a row.
Herman even began to worry that Kramer might have gone bankrupt and absconded with his payments.
Left with no other choice, Herman could only continue practicing magic, becoming more proficient at casting spells with his left hand. He practiced Dissilio's hand gestures dozens of times, and although he hadn't actually tried them on with a real object yet, his movements were already much smoother than before when he was performing them with his hands empty.
I went to the practice room at the Room of Requirement twice, once to practice precise control of fire and once to practice expanding the range of my innate spellcasting. I used up a lot of magic power and burned several scorch marks on the dummy in the corner.
Although I didn't get to make any small gadgets myself, I'm not in a hurry.
I'll go see Professor Malin tonight to ask her about magical modifications; I don't need to do anything first to prove I haven't wasted my time.
After all, Professor Malin himself said he would teach him real stuff on Friday night, so he couldn't possibly check homework on the first day of class.
However, what Herman didn't expect was that before the afternoon's free time even arrived, a new piece of news came during lunch, causing a stir throughout the entire Great Hall.
Dumbledore back.
On the stage of the Great Hall, the seat in the center that had been vacant for almost two weeks was finally occupied at lunchtime.
The old man with the white beard, glasses, and white robe has returned.
He sat in the tallest and largest chair, talking to Professor McGonagall beside him, holding a wine glass in his hand, the liquid inside gleaming amber in the candlelight.
The atmosphere of unease that had gripped Hogwarts for the past week seemed to have been gently smoothed out by an invisible hand.
From the moment the students entered the Great Hall, they noticed the change on the platform. First, someone whispered, " Dumbledore back," and then the words rippled outwards, from one long table to another, from Gryffindor to Slytherin, and from Slytherin to Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw.
All the young wizards who were tense because of the Vampire in Hogsmeade relaxed, and even the Slytherin students who were worried about the kidnapping of the Pure-blood families subconsciously stopped being anxious.
It was as if Dumbledore had returned, and everything would be resolved.
Not only did the students think so, but even the professors on the podium seemed to soften their expressions.
Quirrell came to eat today too. He sat in his seat with a plate of roast meat and a glass of red wine in front of him, unlike the past few days when he hurriedly ate a few bites before rushing to the Forbidden Forest to change shifts.
He cut the meat on his plate, occasionally exchanging a few words with Professor Trelawney next to him, his expression much more relaxed than it had been two weeks prior.
However, Professor Malin was not there. Her seat was empty; she was probably still guarding the Vampire Gori in the Forbidden Forest, waiting for someone to relieve her.
Of course, there are exceptions.
Professor McGonagall remained serious, her lips pressed into a thin line, sitting upright next to Dumbledore. Her knife and fork were cutting into the plate with standard movements but without any extra expression.
She probably wasn't worried about school safety; with Dumbledore back, there was no need to worry about safety.
She was probably angry because Hagrid was keeping a nest of Vampire in the Forbidden Forest, since it involved the safety of the students, and Dumbledore hadn't even consulted her, the vice-headmaster, beforehand.
However, Dumbledore clearly in a good mood, or perhaps he simply didn't take the Vampire at Hogsmeade seriously.
He was talking to Professor Snape on the other side, a slight smile occasionally appearing in his white beard, his azure eyes slightly narrowed behind his half-moon spectacles, his expression as relaxed as if he were discussing the weather.
However, Snape didn't seem to be in a good mood.
He turned sideways, facing Dumbledore, his fork resting on the edge of the plate, his lips slightly downturned, and he spoke a little faster than usual.
He was arguing with Dumbledore about something, and he seemed a little agitated. Occasionally, a few of his words drifted to the ears of nearby students.
"You should have sent him to Azkaban in the first place!"
"Look at what he's done! How is it any different from what he did back then!"
"Yes, the difference is that he's targeting Pure-blood, specifically Slytherin!"
It was clear that Snape was complaining to Dumbledore about the big things Sirius had been up to lately—the case of the invasion of the four Pure-blood families.
However, this is not Snape really wanted to express.
He complained for a long time, his voice rising and falling, before finally lowering his voice and whispering something to Dumbledore.