The Silent Witch of Hogwarts

Chapter 432 The Pinecone Party and the Prison

Chapter 432 The Pinecone Party and the Prison

"You all probably already know about what's been happening lately."

The Hufflepuff lounge was quite lively, with a dozen students sitting on the sofas with serious expressions.

The one leading the group was none other than Ezreal, who was carefully adjusting his glasses.

As the founder of the Pinecone Party, she pursed her lips and looked at the other Pinecone Party elders.

"Of course I know." Pansy Parkinson, a rare member of the Pinecone Party from Slytherin, nodded. "Everyone knows it."

"This is absolutely terrifying," another Hufflepuff student nodded slowly.

"That's right!" The others nodded in agreement. "We can't go on like this."

They said it almost in unison.

Just then, the door to the lounge was pushed open, and Hermione rushed in.

"I'm not late, am I?" she said, panting heavily. It was obvious that she had run all the way here.

"Not yet, Hermione." A student offered her a seat so she could rest for a bit.

"We're discussing a recent major event." Ezreal nodded seriously. "This event has had a remarkably significant impact on the Pinecone Party."

"I think it should be included in the emergency plan."

Hermione paused, then thought for a few seconds before saying, "Is it about Durmstrang?"

"That's right." Ezreal nodded. "It's about Durmstrang."

"But wasn't this matter already resolved?" Hermione looked at them with a puzzled expression. "I remember just a few days ago—"

"We're not talking about something as trivial as students fighting," Ezreal coughed sternly. "We're talking about Professor Hamilton becoming the interim supervisor!"

"Huh?" Hermione blinked, instinctively thinking she had misheard.

"Is there a problem with the temporary supervision?" she asked after thinking for a moment.

"Of course!" Pansy slammed her hand on the table. "Why should Professor Hamilton be their supervisor?"

"Just because their principal died?"

"Ahem—calm down, Miss Parkinson's," a student nearby quickly said.

“That’s right, that’s not the point, Miss Parkinson!” Izaria coughed and said, “The point is—Professor Hamilton was once Durmstrang’s student.”

"Is there a problem with this?" Isn't it just because Professor Hamilton was Durmstrang's student that she was specially assigned to be the supervisor?

Hermione, at least, thought so—she even thought it was a good thing.

Professor Hamilton's genius would impress even Durmstrang's students!

"Of course there's a problem!" But clearly, this was only Hermione's thought. Izaria said seriously, "You need to understand that Professor Hamilton is a genius!"

"And he's so good at spells!"

"And she's so cute!"

"That's right!" "You're absolutely right!"

Ezreal's last sentence received significantly more approval, and the students nodded earnestly one by one.

"So this raises a question—" Ezreal said slowly, "Demstrand's students might be impressed by Professor Hamilton."

"This is a very serious matter!" she said, seeing Hermione's even more confused expression. "Do you understand, Hermione?"

"This means we'll have the opportunity to expand the Pinecone Party's membership to Durmstrang!"

"We had already expanded the Pinecone Party's organization to Beauxbatons," she said, nodding slightly. "Miss Delacour is a powerful ally of ours."

"Now is the perfect time for us to fully integrate Durmstrang's students!" she said, placing one foot on the table. "Everyone should know the greatness of Professor Hamilton!"

"Everyone should join the Pinecone Party to support Professor Hamilton!"

"So Hermione!" she exclaimed, turning sharply to the stunned Hermione. "We think this job is perfect for you!"

"Suitable for me?" Hermione's lips twitched.

"That's right!" Ezreal patted her on the shoulder. "The organization has decided that you will be in charge of recruiting Durmstrang students to join us."

"Luna has already managed to get Beauxbatons' students to join us, and now you can do it too." She lowered her voice, "We've all heard that you and Krum have a good relationship."

"You'd better start with him."

"But we're just friends—" Hermione couldn't help but say.

"That's precisely why we need you!" Ezreal nodded. "All you need to do is let your friends know about Professor Hamilton!"

Looking at her jubilant companions, Hermione was at a loss for words—after all those strange things that had just happened recently—how could this inexplicable incident occur again?

However—Hermione wasn't entirely opposed to it—it was good—talking to Krum more would also let Ron know about her—

No, no, no. What does this have to do with Ron? Absolutely nothing—nothing at all!

Unlike the students' playful antics, the Hogwarts basement was much quieter and more deserted at this time.

Two Aurors stood guard here, at the door of a dilapidated prison cell.

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"I never imagined Hogwarts had a place like this," one of the thinner Aurors muttered.

"You probably never imagined you'd end up here as a guard, did you?" Another fat Auror shrugged.

"Not only did I not expect that, I also didn't expect that I came here to guard a corpse," he said with dissatisfaction. "My mother didn't make me an Auror for this."

"Come on—" Fat Auror said, "At least it's warmer here than outside, isn't it?"

"You wouldn't prefer to search for Sirius, would you?" he said, pursing his lips. "The people outside would love to trade places with us."

"Of course I know what's going on outside, I just find it—boring here." Skinny Auror shrugged. "Why should we guard a corpse?"

"Shouldn't we send it directly to the Ministry of Magic?"

"I heard that's what was originally going to be," Fat Auror said in a low voice, "but—Germany isn't willing."

Why?

"It seems they said something about the most powerful forensic wizard coming," Fat Auror said, sounding somewhat uncertain. "They want to keep the corpse in its original state."

"So that they can investigate."

"Tch—" Skinny Auror rolled his eyes and said, "Is this why I still need to cast a spell?"

"What a rather boring reason —"

He then fell silent, perhaps because there was nothing to talk about, or perhaps because he was thinking about other things.

But no one noticed that a little mouse slowly crawled through the fence.