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November was more than halfway through, and the damp chill before winter began to permeate the corridors of Hogwarts Castle. Fine mist condensed on the windowpanes, and the treetops of the Forbidden Forest appeared increasingly desolate under the grayish-white sky.
With less than two weeks until the First Task, the post-meal conversations among the students from the six schools had gradually shifted from "who exactly entered Lynn's name" to "what exactly is the First Task."
But Lynn had no time to worry about that.
During this time, he had been keeping an eye on someone.
To be precise, he was keeping an eye on Moody.
And the object of his scrutiny—Professor Alastor Moody—had clearly been acting a bit off lately.
The lights were not on in "Moody's" office.
The fire in the fireplace had long since gone out, leaving only a pile of dark red embers struggling to survive, occasionally emitting a crack as a faint spark burst forth.
In the dim light, "Moody's" Magical Eye was currently still.
It wasn't spinning or scanning; it just pointed forward vacantly, as if it had crashed. Meanwhile, his normal eye was staring fixedly at the ceiling.
"Restless" was not enough to describe his current state.
From late October until now, a full half-month.
Every time he walked through the corridors, every time he stepped into the Great Hall, and every time he walked out of the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom—
That feeling of being watched followed him like a maggot.
At first, he thought it was Harry Potter.
After all, that child had once defeated his master; it wasn't impossible that he had some sort of special ability.
But Harry Potter? He observed him for three whole days, and how should he put it? The boy was overwhelmed with handling his interpersonal relationships; he didn't look like he had discovered anything at all.
Then... Dumbledore? Had Dumbledore noticed?
This thought was like a bucket of ice water being poured over his head.
He figured that using a disguise to sneak into Hogwarts was one thing, but deceiving Dumbledore was quite another. If he had really noticed something—
"Moody" suddenly sat bolt upright.
His face and forehead were instantly covered in fine cold sweat. He gripped his hair tightly, so hard that his knuckles turned white.
Where did it go wrong?
Which action, which sentence, or which look in his eyes at what moment had made that old fox suspicious?
He repeatedly reviewed everything, from the first second of the Opening Feast to the sip of Polyjuice Potion in the Staff Room last night. Every detail was taken apart, crushed, stuffed into his mouth to chew, swallowed, and then regurgitated—
Nothing.
There were no flaws.
He imitated Moody's gait, his way of speaking, his habits of vigilance, every subtle expression on his face, and the rotation frequency of that Magical Eye.
It was perfect.
It was so perfect that he himself couldn't distinguish which parts were acting, yet that damn feeling of being watched still followed him like a shadow.
"Fuck! Who the hell is it?!"
...Meanwhile, in the Hufflepuff Dormitory.
At this moment, Edgar and the other two were slumped on the sofa closest to the fireplace, holding half-eaten Honeydukes Chocolate Frogs in their hands, but their eyes were not on the chocolate.
They were looking at Lynn.
"So what you're saying is..." Edgar bit off the head of a Chocolate Frog and said while chewing indistinctly, "Professor Moody has a guilty conscience?"
"A guilty conscience." Lynn leaned back in the armchair by the window, his fingers tapping the armrest rhythmically. "And a very obvious one at that."
He laid out his observations from the past half-month one by one:
"First, the frequency of his questions.
"In the first month of school, he called on me at least five times every class. Sometimes it was to demonstrate a Spell, sometimes for tactical deductions, and sometimes it was simply, 'Mr. Lynn, please analyze the problem with that Spell just now.'"
Lynn paused. "In the past week, it's been less than once per class on average."
Edgar blinked. "...Is it possible he finally realized you always answer quite well, so there's no need to call on you anymore?"
Lynn glanced at him.
That look clearly said: Do you even believe that yourself?
Edgar silently stuffed the remains of the Chocolate Frog into his mouth.
"Second," Lynn continued, "his movement routes."
"Back when school started, he would patrol the perimeter of the Castle every morning and evening at fixed times. From the eighth-floor corridor to the dungeon entrance, his route was as steady as a planetary orbit.
"Hagrid mentioned that he often saw him wandering around the edge of the Forbidden Forest in the middle of the night, saying, 'His vigilance is really high.' Those were Hagrid's exact words."
Lynn stretched out his legs and shifted into a more comfortable position.
"But this week, except for classes and necessary occasions, he hardly leaves his office."
He paused and added, "I specifically kept track."
Edgar opened his mouth. "...You specifically kept track of that?"
Lynn didn't answer.
"Third," Lynn said, holding up a third finger, "his state."
He recalled the details of his observations over the past few days. "At lunch last Tuesday, he was cutting sausages at the Staff Table. He made three cuts, then his knife and fork hung in mid-air for over ten seconds. He didn't even hear Professor Flitwick speaking to him next to him."
"Last Thursday afternoon, a chance encounter in the corridor by the Potions classroom.
"He was coming up from the dungeons, and I happened to be coming from the opposite direction, about twenty paces away. The moment he saw me—his Magical Eye froze. It wasn't scanning; it was fixed, staring right at me for at least two seconds."
"Last night, at dinner in the Great Hall. He didn't eat much, and his normal eye kept glancing toward the entrance, once every minute."
Lynn stopped, and the dormitory fell silent for a few seconds.
A small cluster of sparks burst from the logs in the fireplace, the crackling sound exceptionally crisp in the silence.
"So," William pushed up his glasses and spoke cautiously, "you think Professor Moody's restlessness lately is because he's done something wrong and is afraid of you finding out?"
Lynn didn't answer directly. "I didn't say he did it."
He paused.
"I just feel that this level of guilt must have a source."
Edgar was silent for a full two and a half minutes.
In his life, that was considered a very long time.
Then he sat up straight and asked in an almost solemn tone, "So what do you plan to do? Go and confront him directly?"
He imagined the scene: Lynn standing at the door of the Defense Against the Dark Arts office, knocking, Moody opening the door, and Lynn starting with, "Was it you who entered my name?"—
Then a Stupefy Charm would fly at him, or worse, he'd be stared to death by that Magical Eye.
Edgar subconsciously shrank his neck.
However, Lynn shook his head. "No, I plan to go tonight."
Edgar was stunned for a moment. "...Tonight?"
"I'm going tonight." Lynn's tone was flat. "After all, we shouldn't wrongly accuse Professor Moody, right? Although I think the probability of wrongly accusing him is slim to none."
Edgar: ⊙△⊙
"Wait... is your decision that reckless?"
"How is this reckless? This is a decision I made after careful consideration."
William and Ollie wanted to try and persuade him further, but Lynn gave them no chance. He glanced at the time on his Magic Phone; it was already dinner time.
"My mind is made up! Do not try to persuade me further!"