"How was the Firebolt?" Harry asked while gently soothing Guru.
"Absolutely fantastic," Ron breathed, his eyes still sparkling with the lingering euphoria of flight. His face glowed with excitement as he relived those precious moments soaring through the air.
"More responsive than any broom I've ever ridden in my entire life. It was like the broom could read my thoughts before I even knew what I wanted to do."
His voice suddenly dropped to a melancholy whisper, the brightness fading from his expression like clouds passing over the sun. "Too bad I'm not on the Quidditch team. I'll probably never get another chance to fly something that magnificent."
"You should have more confidence in yourself, Ron," Harry said earnestly, reaching over to pat his friend's shoulder with warmth. "You flew brilliantly just now—truly spectacular for someone who hasn't had much practice with racing brooms. I dare say I wasn't much better than you the first time I took the Firebolt out for a spin."
"Thanks, mate," Ron mumbled, his ears turning bright red.
Deep down, Ron knew he couldn't compare to Harry's natural talent. After all, Harry was Professor McGonagall's personally chosen Seeker, selected for his extraordinary flying abilities despite being only a first-year at the time.
But perhaps next year, Ron thought with a flicker of hope warming his chest, he could muster the courage to try out for Gryffindor's Quidditch team. Maybe as a Chaser, or even a Beater like his older brothers Fred and George...
After carefully confirming through the classroom's dirty windows that Filch hadn't managed to track them down, Harry and Ron finally felt safe enough to venture out. They left the dusty empty classroom behind and walked side by side through the castle's corridors toward the warmth and comfort of Gryffindor Tower.
As they walked, Harry felt an odd sense that something was missing from this day. The feeling nagged at him, an itch he couldn't quite scratch.
As they rounded a corner where a particularly stern-looking portrait of a medieval knight watched them with disapproving eyes, Harry suddenly snapped his fingers as realization struck him like lightning. "We haven't seen Hermione all day. Where do you suppose she is?"
"Where do you think she'd be?" Ron shrugged with weary resignation. "Probably buried nose-deep in some dusty tome in the library again, losing track of time like she always does.
I invited her to come watch the Firebolt demonstration this morning, but she said she wasn't interested—completely incomprehensible, don't you think? How could anyone with functioning brain cells not be interested in seeing a genuine Firebolt in action?"
Harry nodded in keen agreement, genuinely baffled by Hermione's apparent indifference to what was clearly one of the most magnificent pieces of magical thing ever created.
Anyone truly uninterested in a Firebolt was obviously abnormal. It was like being uninterested in magic itself.
Just then, the sound of hurried footsteps echoed from somewhere in the distance, growing steadily louder as they approached.
Both boys immediately froze like startled deer, every muscle tensing as they held their breath and strained their ears. Harry even hastily concealed the Firebolt behind his back—though given the broom's considerable length, the gesture was rather pointless and probably made him look more suspicious rather than less.
However, when the source of the footsteps finally came into view around the distant corner, they both exhaled in relief.
It wasn't the dreaded Filch with his bulging, mad eyes and ever-present threats of detention. Instead, it was a balding middle-aged man in deep blue robes that marked him as a member of the Auror Corps.
By remarkable coincidence, it was the exact same Auror they had ambushed with snowballs at the very beginning of the Christmas holiday.
"Good morning, sir," Harry greeted politely.
However, the man didn't even acknowledge Harry's existence, walking past them with the cold indifference of someone who had far more important matters occupying his mind.
Harry and Ron exchanged confused glances.
"That was strange," Ron observed quietly once the Auror had disappeared around another corner. "He doesn't seem to be in a particularly good mood, does he? Usually the Aurors at least nod when students greet them politely."
"Now that you mention it, he didn't appear at yesterday's Christmas feast either," Harry said.
Hearing this observation, Ron shrugged with nonchalance and said dismissively, "He's probably involved in some sort of top-secret mission that requires him to maintain a low profile. Aurors deal with that sort of thing all the time, you know—hunting down dark wizards, investigating mysterious disappearances, tracking dangerous magical creatures."
'Secret mission, eh?' Harry muttered under his breath, his mind already beginning to work through the possibilities.
Then, like a bolt of inspiration striking him directly between the eyes, he had a sudden flash of brilliance that made his pulse quicken with excitement.
"Let's follow him," he whispered urgently, lowering his voice while keeping his bright green eyes fixed intently on the Auror's rapidly retreating figure.
Ron's eyes widened like about to pop completely out of his skull. "Are you completely insane? Following a trained Auror who's probably armed with enough hexes to turn us both into smoking craters? Have you forgotten what happened the last time we decided to investigate something suspicious?"
"I think he's acting genuinely strange," Harry explained quickly, his words tumbling over each other in his eagerness to convince his reluctant friend.
"Missing important social events like the feast, moving around with such obvious urgency, looking like he's trying to avoid being noticed, and..."
He paused, struggling to articulate the nagging feeling that had been growing stronger with each passing moment. "I can't quite put my finger on it, but something about him just feels wrong."
The sensation was like trying to remember a word that stayed stubbornly on the tip of his tongue, or noticing that a familiar painting had been hung slightly crooked.
In any case, Harry felt with some certainty that there was something inexplicably and deeply off about this particular Auror.
Ron hesitated for a momen. Finally, he threw up his hands in defeat and gave in with a dramatic sigh. "Fine, but if we're caught red-handed and end up getting expelled or worse, we'll claim we got hopelessly lost looking for the bathroom and were just following someone who might be able to give us directions."
The two boys began their pursuit, moving as quietly as possible while maintaining what they hoped was a safe distance. They ducked behind convenient suits of armor when necessary, pressed themselves against walls when the corridor offered no other concealment, and tried to keep their footsteps light on the stone floors.
The middle-aged Auror walked swiftly through the twisting passages of the castle. Then, without any warning at all, he suddenly stopped dead in the middle of a long corridor.
Harry and Ron immediately dove for cover behind the nearest suit of armor.
However, the middle-aged Auror didn't seem to have noticed their amateur surveillance efforts. Instead, he simply reached into the inner pocket of his official robes and pulled out a folded piece of parchment. He unfolded it carefully and studied its contents with intense concentration.
"What do you think he's doing?" Ron whispered.
Harry shook his head, indicating his complete bewilderment.
Before they could react, the Auror pocketed the parchment and sprinted away, disappearing around the corridor's end.
Harry and Ron emerged cautiously from behind their hiding place, looking at each other with expressions of complete and utter confusion.
"What in Merlin's name was he running from?" Ron asked, scratching his messy red hair. "Or running to, for that matter? And what was on that parchment that made him take off like his robes were on fire?"
Harry was equally puzzled by what they had witnessed, but the ominous feeling in his gut had grown stronger rather than weaker.
Something was definitely wrong here, and he had the uncomfortable sensation that whatever was happening might be far more serious than a simple case of Auror business.
Meanwhile, in a completely different part of the castle, Adrian sat in his office. Stacks of graded essays created small fortresses on his desk, while magical textbooks lay open to various pages featuring detailed illustrations of exotic creatures.
He was deep in troubled contemplation about the content for next term's Care of Magical Creatures classes, a problem that had been occupying his thoughts for several days now.
The challenge of finding creatures that would be both educational and appropriately safe for his students was proving more difficult than he had initially anticipated.
Fire salamanders seemed like a reasonable option—they were fascinating magical creatures with interesting properties, but perhaps too mundane for students who had already been exposed to far more exotic beings.
On the other hand, many of the more spectacular magical creatures he genuinely wanted to show his students, creatures that would spark wonder and genuine educational curiosity seemed more than a bit too dangerous for a classroom setting.
Hungarian Horntails were obviously out of the question, as were Acromantulas, and pretty much anything else that could potentially maim or devour his pupils.
As he wrestled with this familiar educational dilemma, the Devil's Snare gently tapped his shoulder with one of its vine and handed him a clock.
"Oh, is it lunch time already? How time flies when you're planning curricula," Adrian said with genuine gratitude, glancing at the clock face with some surprise. "Thank you for reminding me, my friend. I get so absorbed in my work that I'd probably forget to eat completely without your help."
Adrian stood up from his chair, stretching muscles that had grown stiff from sitting in the same position for too long.
These past few days' meals had been particularly spectacular events worth anticipating. With most of the students gone home for the holidays and relatively little else to occupy their considerable talents, the house-elves had been putting extraordinary thought and creativity into every single dish they prepared.
Each meal had become a masterpiece of culinary artistry, featuring elaborate presentations and flavor combinations that would have made professional chefs weep with envy.
On his leisurely way to the Great Hall, looking forward to whatever delights awaited him, Adrian encountered someone approaching from the opposite direction who seemed vaguely familiar.
"Hello there, Mr. Jameson," Adrian called out cheerfully, raising his hand in a friendly wave as the man drew closer. "Are you heading to the Great Hall as well? I can personally vouch that Hogwarts' food is quite exceptional, especially during the holidays when the house-elves really have a chance to show off their skills."
Yes, now he remembered clearly—the person he had encountered was Sean Jameson, one of the Aurors assigned to patrol the castle grounds during this period. They had met briefly during a Hogsmeade weekend earlier in the term with Tonks and Remus.
However, something struck Adrian as particularly odd about this encounter. Jameson's face was somewhat flushed, as if he had been engaging in vigorous physical exercise.
"No need for that, but thank you for the offer," Jameson replied curtly. He gave Adrian the most perfunctory of nods, then brushed past him with obvious haste and continued hurrying down the corridor as if he were late for an extremely important appointment.
Adrian remained standing in the middle of the corridor, watching Jameson's leaving figure with growing unease. Something about the entire encounter had felt wrong.
Just as Jameson's hurrying figure was about to disappear completely around the distant corner—
"Wait just a moment!" Adrian called out sharply.
Adrian's eyes narrowed as the pieces of a puzzle suddenly clicked into place. He finally understood what had been bothering him about this encounter!
Tonks had specifically mentioned that Jameson would definitely be going home during the Christmas holiday to spend time with his young children.
That meant he absolutely could not possibly be at Hogwarts right now, patrolling the corridors and declining invitations to lunch!
The identity of this supposed "Jameson" was not just suspicious—it was completely impossible.
Realizing this discovery, Adrian immediately abandoned all pretense of casual conversation and quickened his pace in pursuit. His hand moved smoothly and instinctively to his wand as it slid quietly into his grasp.
At precisely that moment, the false Jameson seemed to sense that his deception had been discovered. Some sixth sense or peripheral vision must have warned him of Adrian's sudden change in demeanor, because he immediately broke into a desperate run.
Adrian took the steps two at a time, his longer stride allowing him to rapidly close the distance between them. His wand was now fully drawn and ready for whatever confrontation awaited. "Stop right there!"
Jameson spun around abruptly, panic flashing across his face. He also drew his wand and aimed it at Adrian. "What do you want? Whoever you are, pointing a wand at a serving Auror isn't exactly what anyone would call a wise life choice."
The threatening words might have been more intimidating if his voice hadn't been shaking.
In this moment of peak tension, with both men facing each other with drawn wands in the narrow castle corridor, the window beside them suddenly exploded. Glass shards flew everywhere like glittering confetti.
Ray swooped in through the broken window with claws aimed directly at Jameson. Before Jameson could react, Ray pinned him to the ground with shocking speed, its sharp beak mere inches from his throat.
Jameson let out a terrified scream, his wand clattering to the floor.
"Excellent work, Ray," Adrian said as he stepped forward quickly, keeping his own wand steadily on the helpless figure pinned beneath. "But don't hurt him—"
After ensuring that his captured prey was completely helpless and posed no further threat, Ray gracefully stepped off the impostor and moved to gently nuzzle Adrian's shoulder with his head.
"So then," Adrian asked calmly, "who are you really?"
Though he already had his suspicions, the situation still required going through the proper procedure.
"I'm a member of the Ministry's Auror Office! You're committing assault against a serving law enforcement officer! This is completely illegal!"
The man struggled to stand but froze in place when Ray let out a sharp screech.
Seeing this, Adrian couldn't help but chuckle with amusement.
This fake Jameson was still putting up resistance.
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