Chapter 254. "Sean Jamison"
"How's the Firebolt?" Harry asked as he soothed Gulu.
"Brilliant," Ron's eyes shone. "More responsive than any broom I've ever ridden…"
His voice suddenly dipped. "Shame I'm not on the Quidditch team."
"You could afford to have a bit more confidence," Harry clapped Ron on the shoulder. "You were flying great just now. I'd say I wasn't much better my first time on a Firebolt."
"Cheers, mate." The tips of Ron's ears went a little red.
Of course he knew he couldn't compare with Harry.
After all, Harry was Professor McGonagall's chosen Seeker.
But maybe next year he could try out for Gryffindor's Quidditch team…
After making sure Filch wasn't coming up, Harry and Ron left the empty classroom and walked side by side toward the common room.
Harry kept feeling as if something was missing today.
It wasn't until they rounded a corner that it hit him. "We haven't seen Hermione at all today. Where did she go?"
"Where d'you think? Library, most likely," Ron spread his hands. "I asked her this morning, but she said she wasn't interested in the Firebolt—can't wrap my head round that, can you? Imagine not being interested in the Firebolt."
Harry nodded in agreement.
Anyone uninterested in the Firebolt was an oddball.
Just then, a rapid clatter of footsteps sounded from farther down the corridor.
They froze on the spot, holding their breath. Harry even hid the Firebolt behind his back—though it wouldn't do much good.
But when they saw who it was, they both exhaled.
It wasn't Filch, but a balding, middle-aged man.
As luck would have it, this was the very Auror they'd pelted with snowballs at the start of the holiday.
"Good morning, sir," Harry greeted politely.
However, the man ignored him, brushing past without a word, face blank.
Harry and Ron traded a puzzled look.
"Odd," Ron murmured. "He looks in a foul mood."
"He didn't show up at the feast yesterday either," Harry said thoughtfully.
Ron shrugged, carefree. "Maybe he's on some secret assignment. He's an Auror…"
A secret assignment.
Harry muttered it under his breath—and then a light went on in his head.
"Let's follow him."
He lowered his voice, eyes fixed on the retreating back of the Auror.
"Are you barmy? Following an Auror?" Ron gaped.
"I think there's something off about him," Harry said quickly. "Skipped the feast, in a tearing hurry, and… I can't quite put it into words…"
All told, there was a subtle wrongness about the man that Harry couldn't shake.
Ron hesitated a moment, then gave in. "All right—but if we're spotted, we say we're lost."
They tailed him quietly, keeping a safe distance.
The middle-aged Auror walked fast. All of a sudden, he stopped dead in the middle of the corridor.
Harry and Ron, startled, ducked behind a suit of armour.
The Auror didn't seem to notice them. He merely took out a piece of parchment and glanced down at it.
"What's he doing?" Ron whispered.
Harry shook his head. He had no way of knowing.
Before they could react, the Auror tucked the parchment away and broke into a run, vanishing at the far end of the corridor in a flash.
Harry and Ron stared at each other and crept out from behind the armour.
"Blimey, why'd he leg it?" Ron raked a hand through his messy red hair.
Harry was just as baffled, but a bad feeling coiled in his chest.
Meanwhile, Adrian Wesson was in his office with a headache.
He was trying to plan the new term's Care of Magical Creatures lessons.
Salamanders?
That felt a bit too humdrum.
But the other magical creatures he wanted to show the students were all just a tad—and then some—dangerous.
As he dithered, the Devil's Snare patted his shoulder and handed him an alarm clock.
"Oh, is it lunchtime already? Thanks for the reminder."
Adrian stood up.
Lunch mattered especially these days. With little else to do, the House-Elves were putting extra care into the food every day.
On his way to the Great Hall, someone not entirely unfamiliar came striding toward him.
"Hello, Mr Jamison," Adrian waved affably to the man approaching. "Heading to lunch? The fare at Hogwarts is rather decent."
Yes, the person he'd run into was Sean Jamison.
They'd met once before on the Hogsmeade open day.
Strangely, Jamison's face was a bit flushed now, and he was slightly out of breath, as if he'd just been exerting himself.
"No need," Jamison gave a brief nod, strode past Adrian, and hurried off.
Adrian stopped where he was, a prickle of wrongness nagging at him.
Just as Jamison was about to disappear round the corner—
"Wait!"
Adrian narrowed his eyes—he finally knew what was wrong!
Tonks had mentioned that Jamison would be going home over the Christmas holidays to look after his child.
Which meant he shouldn't be at Hogwarts right now!
The identity of the "Jamison" before him was very, very sensitive.
With that thought, Adrian quickened his pace and gave chase, his wand slipping silently into his hand.
Jamison seemed to realise something as well and broke into a sprint.
Adrian lengthened his stride, closed the gap in a few steps, and levelled his wand at Jamison's back. "Stop!"
Jamison whirled round, a flicker of panic on his face, and pointed his own wand at Adrian. "What do you think you're doing? Whoever you are, pointing a wand at an Auror is not the right choice."
In that taut instant, the corridor window exploded; glass shards flew everywhere.
Rai plunged through the shattered panes, talons aimed straight at Jamison.
Before Jamison could react, Rai slammed him to the floor with astonishing speed, the sharp beak a mere inch from his throat.
Jamison let out a shriek of terror; his wand rolled across the floor.
"Well done, Rai," Adrian strode forward, wand trained on the imposter. "But don't hurt him."
Once sure the prey couldn't resist, Rai stepped off Jamison and nuzzled Adrian's shoulder with a gentle bump of the head.
"So, who exactly are you?" Adrian asked coolly.
He already had a fair idea, but given the setting, it was best to go through the motions.
"I'm with the Ministry's Auror Office! You're assaulting a serving Auror!"
The man struggled to rise, only to freeze at Rai's piercing cry.
Adrian chuckled.
This fake Jamison still meant to put up a last-ditch fight.
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