The gloom that had smothered London for days finally broke on the first day of the New Year. The rising sun spilled across the snow-white Quidditch pitch, its reflection draping Hogwarts Castle in a delicate veil of pale gold.
After early morning rounds to administer a mandatory restorative draft to Hermione, Madam Pomfrey headed down to the Great Hall for breakfast. This left Harry and Ron alone in the Hospital Wing with a despondent Hermione. After hearing her recount the previous night's encounter, neither of their expressions were particularly bright.
"Professor Snape definitely knows!"
Hermione muffled her furry face in her hands, her voice thick with misery. "He called out my name before the door even opened. No one but Madam Pomfrey knew I was in here. Snape is a Potions Master; he knows exactly what happens when you use Polyjuice Potion for animal DNA. That means he knows I stole the ingredients from his private stores."
Harry stared blankly out the window at the towering Quidditch hoops. He and Ron had planned to visit Hermione and then spend the morning flying, but that plan was clearly dead in the water.
Furthermore, the peace he'd enjoyed during the Christmas break—free from the whispers about him being a Parselmouth or the Heir of Slytherin—was evaporating. The source of his new anxiety was the name Hermione had just uttered: Amossta Blaine.
"Amossta Blaine... he claims to be an investigator," Harry mused, his brow furrowing. "Hermione, what do you think this 'Blaine' is here to find?"
"Do you even have to ask, Harry? What else is there to investigate in this school right now?"
The fact that Harry and Ron seemed more worried about the investigation than their potential expulsion made the young witch even more irritable.
Harry felt his stomach, warmed by the morning's porridge, cramp with a sudden chill. He had never heard the name before. Aside from Mr. Weasley, he had never dealt with a wizard who carried an official title, but the word 'investigator' carried a weight that pressed heavily on his chest.
Because of his ability to speak to snakes, he was already the prime suspect among the students. If the school found out a professional investigator had been brought in, how much more scrutiny would he face? He could already see Malfoy's pointed face twisted in a smug grin; Malfoy would likely be the first in line to 'testify' against him.
"Why would the Ministry suddenly send someone... I mean, Dumbledore is here. He never mentioned an investigator to me."
Thinking of this, Harry remembered the night Justin was attacked. He had spoken with Dumbledore in his office, but out of fear that the Headmaster would think he was linked to Salazar Slytherin, he had kept quiet about Dobby's warnings and the cold, murderous voice he heard in the walls.
Did Dumbledore suspect he was hiding something? Had he allowed the Ministry to step in because he was losing patience? Would the Ministry simply take the easy route, listen to the school rumors, and throw him into that wizard prison Malfoy was always bragging about?
"It's obvious, Harry! It's that old bat Snape making trouble in the shadows!"
Ron, clutching half a potato pasty, wrinkled his freckled nose in absolute certainty. "Think about it. This Blaine guy is close with Snape. I bet he's a Slytherin graduate. Who wants you out of this school more than Snape? I'll bet my last Sickle Snape brought this guy in just to pin it on you..."
"Thanks, Ron. Your 'analysis' makes me feel so much better," Harry said sarcastically, slumped on the edge of the bed.
"Don't be ridiculous, Ron," Hermione snapped.
Having realized that Snape hadn't reported her for theft immediately, her panic had subsided into a sharp, focused energy. She crossed her arms, glaring at Ron. "Not even the Minister for Magic has the right to expel a Hogwarts student without Dumbledore's approval. And Dumbledore isn't going to expel you, Harry. Right?"
Before the attack on Justin, Harry would have said yes. He had always felt a strange, quiet bond with the silver-haired Headmaster, even if they rarely spoke.
"Maybe, Hermione," Harry replied hesitantly. "At least Dumbledore told Hagrid he didn't think I was the one who attacked Colin. He wouldn't expel me just for hiding a few things... would he?"
While Harry wrestled with his doubts, Ron continued to mutter under his breath. Suddenly, he squinted at the ceiling, a look of deep concentration crossing his face.
"Amossta Blaine... that name. I feel like I've heard it somewhere before."
Harry perked up instantly. "Ron! If he's an investigator, he must be a colleague of your dad's. Maybe they're friends? You could write a letter—ask your dad to explain things to him before he comes looking for me."
Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were Harry's favorite people in the wizarding world. They had been incredibly kind to him, and the week he spent at The Burrow was the highlight of his summer. If Mr. Weasley knew Amossta Blaine, he would surely help.
The golden sunlight climbed higher up the Quidditch hoops, and the breeze drifting over the grounds carried a faint, illusory scent of spring.
"I can write a letter, sure," Ron said slowly, still trying to place the name. "Fred and George might have heard of him too. As for Percy... well, we shouldn't ask him. He's so desperate to climb the Ministry ladder he'd probably sell us out faster than Malfoy."
"He's your brother, Ron," Hermione said, swinging her legs off the bed to put on her boots. "You shouldn't talk about him like that."
Among the trio, Hermione held the highest opinion of Percy. She frequently sought his academic advice, and Percy, for all his pompousness, was always helpful.
"He was my brother, until he became a Prefect and decided his life's goal was to be Head Boy," Ron grumbled, his ears turning red. "I haven't forgotten the five points he took off me in front of Myrtle's bathroom!"
"He's a Prefect, Ron. It's his job." Hermione stood up, stamping her boots into place. She pulled the collar of her robes up, trying to hide the black fur on her jaw as much as possible. "Go get your Invisibility Cloak, Harry. You don't expect me to walk out of the Hospital Wing looking like this, do you?"
"Wait, walk out?" Harry blinked. "You're coming to play Quidditch with us, Hermione?"
Hermione looked at him as if he had grown a second head. "When are you going to get Quidditch out of your brain, Harry? We aren't going to the pitch. We're going to investigate Mr. Blaine. We need to find out exactly who he is before he finds us."