novelraw Chapter 189 Harry the Detective Azkaban
Chapter 189 Harry the Detective Azkaban
Chapter 190 (4k long chapter) Harry the Detective Azkaban
Meanwhile, Harry followed Dumbledore directly to the Headmaster's office. As soon as they entered, before Harry could react, Dumbledore stroked his silver beard and said:
"You've seen my memories, Harry. You know Grindelwald is a prophet."
"He can save us from many unknown dangers and troubles."
Harry simply lifted the hem of his black robe, pulled up a chair, and sat down with an air of authority. His pair of blue eyes, half-open and half-closed, said:
"Professor, you have quite the nerve! Even if you two were sworn brothers back then and slept side by side, decades have passed since then."
"Just like leftover chilled tea—it tastes completely different. How can you be sure he'll lend a helping hand?"
Upon hearing this, Dumbledore chuckled and said, "Ah, our relationship is closer than you think."
"Besides, I have other ways to determine whether he was telling the truth or not."
Harry was still worried. "Even if Grindelwald is wandless, what if he secretly uses wandless spells to incite the students to cause trouble? Wouldn't that be like inviting a wolf into the house?"
"Don't worry, Harry, the Austrian Ministry of Magic thought of this even earlier than you."
"His tongue is cursed; if he wants to cast spells without a staff, a knot will be tied around his tongue."
Seeing that Dumbledore readily agreed, Harry clasped his hands in response:
"In that case, I will trust the professor again this time."
Seeing his straightforwardness, Dumbledore felt as warm as if he had drunk an ice-cold butterbeer on a sweltering summer day.
When was the last time I had such a calm and peaceful conversation with Harry? It seems like it was back in our first year.
Ah… days without needing to take magic potions…
Just as the old headmaster was about to offer a few words of comfort, he suddenly saw Harry's eyes widen, and he slammed his large, fan-like hand heavily on the wooden table, making the ink bottle jump around.
"Although this matter is resolved, it is not entirely so! I still have a case that requires your clarification!"
No sooner said than done! Dumbledore quickly pointed his wand at the medicine cabinet, and a potion bottle flew into his palm.
He pulled out the cork, tilted his head back, and gulped it down before he could catch his breath.
Harry ignored him and continued, "That house-elf Glitter had an affair with a Death Eater, and Crouch claimed ignorance, so that was that."
"But that vixen Bellatrix, I saw it with my own eyes, and even sent her memories to the Ministry of Magic, how come they just casually reported her as having committed suicide by fire in prison, and then let it go!"
"Back then, Professor Tetto was in charge of the Ministry of Magic, but where has he gone now!"
Upon hearing this question, Dumbledore simply used his wand once more. Another potion bottle flew out of the medicine cabinet and was held in his hand.
After taking a couple of bites, he smiled wryly and said, "The Ministry of Magic conducted an autopsy, and they said the body was Bellatrix."
"Furthermore, since Hagrid's wrongful conviction was overturned, the Ministry of Magic has made improvements and revisions to the legal system."
"The core concept now is 'presumption of innocence'."
"Without clear evidence that Bellatrix actually escaped, the Ministry of Magic can only conclude that the charred body in Azkaban is her."
"So, whether the body is Bella or not, there's nothing I can do to interfere anymore."
Harry flew into a rage upon hearing this, jumped up, shoved his right foot into the chair, and shouted:
"Are the memories in my mind not conclusive evidence?"
Dumbledore shook his head. "It's also possible that someone deliberately used disguise magic to make their face look like Bellatrix's."
"Neither the Dementors of Azkaban, nor the prison guards, nor even her husband, Mr. Rodolphs, who was imprisoned next to her, denied seeing Bellatrix escape."
Harry was taken aback. "So Azkaban doesn't have separate men's and women's prisons?"
"Only a small portion is like that; Fudge calls it the prison of marriage." Dumbledore took off his glasses and rubbed his temples. "He wanted to project the image of a benevolent leader."
Harry remained silent, but inwardly he thought: Damn it! This Ministry of Magic is utterly useless, so hypocritical. They probably never even tortured Rodolphus.
I must personally go to Azkaban to find out the truth.
Having made up his mind, he said no more, simply bowed to Dumbledore, turned and strode out of the headmaster's office, heading straight for the Gryffindor Tower.
It was not yet bedtime, and the candlelight flickered in the lounge, where students chatted and laughed in small groups.
Harry looked around but couldn't find Hermione. He then crossed his arms and asked Ron, who was chatting with someone on the other side:
"Brother, have you ever seen your eldest sister?"
Ron was taken aback upon hearing this, and he carefully examined the lounge, scratching his head as he said:
"Yeah, where did Hermione go?"
Just as the two were about to go out to search, they suddenly heard the door hinges creak, and Hermione pushed the door open and entered.
Harry hurried forward and bowed deeply, "Where have you been, elder sister? We've been so worried about you!"
"Ah, I went to the Chamber of Secrets," Hermione said with a smile. "The house-elves did a pretty good job tidying it up."
Ron looked at him suspiciously. "You went to the secret room to do—"
"Ha~ It's too late, I'm going to sleep."
Goodnight, Harry, Ron.
Hermione said no more and quickly turned back to the women's quarters like a butterfly flitting among flowers.
Harry glanced at her slender back, frowned slightly, and suppressed his doubts for the time being.
At dawn the next day, the sound of bells and the sound of food filled the air as all the students went to the greenhouse for their herbal medicine class.
Sprout brought out an earthenware pot containing a lumpy, lumpy thing covered in pustules, emitting a foul stench.
"Barbo tubers," Sprout chuckled. "Put on dragon-skin gloves, squeeze the pus out of those bulges on them, and collect it in these bottles."
"Don't look down on it; it's the best medicine for treating acne."
Sprout's description was quite accurate; the students, seeing the oozing fluid from the abscess, found it utterly filthy. Despite hearing of its medicinal uses, they paid no heed, each covering their noses and frowning.
It should be noted that these students were used to martial arts training, and each of them was physically strong. In addition, they trained with Harry day and night, and there was not an ounce of excess fat on their bodies.
Let alone acne, even oily skin would have a hard time accumulating. At that moment, I could only pinch my nose and slowly squeeze out the pus, just like a strong man picking up an embroidery needle, quite a mess.
When the school bell rang, everyone felt as if they had been granted a pardon, and hurriedly waved their wands, randomly casting cleansing spells on each other.
After changing his robes, he headed straight for Hagrid's hut outside the castle to attend the Magical Creatures Conservation class. Along the way, people were talking about it, wondering what strange creature Hagrid would bring this time.
"Look closely, kids! This is the culmination of my summer research—a brand new creature I bred myself—the Blast-tailed Snail!"
When the students looked closely, they were quite surprised! They saw that object:
It resembles a molted lobster, with a grayish-white, slimy body. Its head and legs are not visible, only a dozen or so claws are visible.
It was about six inches long, with a pungent, fishy smell, just like rotten shrimp mixed in with a pile of rotten fish on a hot summer day.
The male has a sharp tail, and the female has suckers on its abdomen; they are specifically designed to suck human blood.
Lavender, who was standing closest, quickly covered his face with his sleeve, took several steps back, and bumped into Harry, crying out in alarm:
"You concocted this?! You can even bring yourself to harm maggots?"
"It's clear that Professor Hagrid means," Draco pinched his nose and muttered, "that these creatures were born through hybridization under his supervision."
"By the way, Miss Lavender, you seem to be almost snuggling into Potter's arms."
Everyone burst into laughter upon hearing this, and many of the women's eyes sparkled. Lavender blushed instantly, jumped back three feet, and shyly apologized to Harry.
The scarred man ignored him, secretly glancing at Draco, several thoughts swirling in his mind.
"This guy is definitely up to no good." Ron whispered in Harry's ear with a look of disgust, "It's as weird as Voldemort confessing his love to some witch."
Hagrid glanced at Draco, but dismissed it as a passing breeze, and laughed:
"These newborn babies are a hybrid of a sphinx and a fire crab. They are a new species, and no one knows their habits yet."
"Even I, as their creator, am no exception."
"So! Your task for today is obvious!" Hagrid shouted, raising his voice, "Take them for a walk, explore the area, and figure out what they eat—but don't go into the Forbidden Forest!"
"Whoever figures it out first, I can have Noberta fly them in the sky for five minutes!"
As soon as the phrase "riding a dragon" was uttered, the students' eyes lit up and they scattered like birds and beasts, with Draco taking the lead.
Unexpectedly, a Slytherin student stuck out his neck and shouted:
"One more question, Professor, what's the use of these smelly giant insects?"
"You don't know either, do you?"
Hagrid, unperturbed by the questioning, strode forward and slapped the man on the back of the head.
"Slytherin, deduct five points!"
"Kid, I think your brain capacity is more suited to being paired with a Dementor!"
"If I knew the habits of this entirely new creature, then today's lesson wouldn't be an outdoor field trip, but rather you'd be taking notes in the classroom!"
The student, struck by Hagrid's blow, felt dizzy and his ears were ringing. He dared not utter another word.
He hurriedly grabbed a fried snail and staggered to the side.
Ron, pinching his nose and poking the limp insect's body with his willow-shaped magic staff, clicked his tongue in amazement upon seeing this and exclaimed in admiration:
"Even now, I still can't believe that Hagrid could do something like that."
Can you imagine what he was like two years ago?
He was muttering to himself when he glanced back unintentionally, and was instantly so shocked that his soul seemed to leave his body and his spirit ascended to heaven. He cried out in disbelief:
"Hermione?! Are you crazy?!"
What did he see? Well, Hermione actually pulled the Blasttail into her arms, her expression unchanged, her breathing normal.
Harry gasped, surprised, and asked, "Is Big Sister perhaps possessed?"
Hermione simply rolled her eyes upwards and said calmly, "I just don't want to embarrass Hagrid, okay?"
"You two—ugh!"
Before she could finish speaking, Hermione suddenly bent over and vomited.
Harry rushed forward and gently patted her back, softly advising, "Why are you forcing yourself, sister? Hagrid is a true hero; why would he care about such empty fame?"
"Oh, but Hagrid is a professor after all, isn't he?"
Hermione wiped her lips with her sleeve, propped herself up on Harry's arm, and swept her disheveled hair behind her ear.
"Come on, Harry, let me figure out what these squishy worms want to eat."
After saying that, he gritted his teeth and walked towards the pile of sticky insects.
Although Hermione was nauseated by the fishy smell several times, she still endured the nausea and carefully probed the area.
They waited until the sun was setting before finally discovering that these fried snails actually preferred fresh blood.
In the days that followed, Hermione's demeanor changed drastically. She worked tirelessly from dawn till dusk, going back and forth between classes.
He always took the lead in all classroom tasks, regardless of their importance or difficulty, which earned him many points on the Gryffindor hourglass.
Even though Snape repeatedly tried to make things difficult for Hermione in Potions class, she was not afraid at all and came to ask for advice on improving potions time and time again.
Even as dusk fell, he still managed to sneak into the professor's office before curfew, disturbing Snape's peace for a moment.
She was immediately penalized 15 points for maliciously harassing the professor, but then 5 points were added, just to say that her mitigating remedy was nearing perfection.
It should be noted that this is the first time since Snape took over Potions class that such an event has been held to add luster to Gryffindor.
In the past, Fred and George would have been banging on the brass basin and spreading the news throughout the yard.
But times have changed. Ever since Harry took charge of the Boxer Rebellion, the four houses have been considered one family.
Those who are so concerned with merits and achievements seem to be like chivalrous heroes who don't fight for empty fame, but only for true loyalty.
They waited until Thursday morning, when Harry and his group arrived at the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom and heard a thunderous roar from inside.
"You're lying again, Mr. Lockhart!"
"You little liar!"
"Let me see how far you've progressed with your Oblivion Spell!"
"Come on! Recite the spell for me!"
Just as they were shouting loudly, Harry burst through the door.
Lockhart's slicked-back blond hair was disheveled, and when she saw Harry, it was as if she had found a lifeline.
He darted behind him in a flash, forcing a smile:
"Alastor, now is not the time for idle chatter; it seems we should start class."
Moody exhaled two puffs of cold air from his nostrils, and one of his demonic eyes rolled across the faces of the students. Without taking attendance, he simply said in a gruff voice:
"Put away those useless old books in your bags! And take out your wands!"
Upon hearing that it was another practical demonstration, the students were all overjoyed, like seedlings that had been parched for a long time and then received a refreshing rain. They quickly found seats and laid their magic wands out on the tables.
Lockhart, however, looked as if he had swallowed a bitter pill, and said with a pained expression:
"Another practical lesson? Alastor, why didn't you tell me beforehand...?"
"What's with the greeting? I don't have time for that kind of nonsense!"
Moody gave a rough shout, then looked at everyone and said, "Lupin sent me a letter, so I know you all know a lot about dark magic creatures."
"However, when it comes to dealing with dark wizards, you are still far, very far behind!"
"Alright, let's get back to the point. Children, who can tell me a dark magic spell?"
These words immediately caused an uproar in the room.
"The Soul-Stealing Curse!"
"Extremely painful! Does this exist?"
"If you ask me, the most powerful one is still the Killing Curse! No one but Harry can withstand it!"
Hearing the students chattering amongst themselves, Moody's magical eyes darted around even faster, spinning rapidly in their sockets like a revolving lantern.
What's going on?
They started by mentioning the three unforgivable curses.
Durmstrang didn't teach it that way, did he?
(End of this chapter)