The weather on Saturday was still very bad, with cascading clouds flashing with palpitating thunder from time to time, and the sky was pouring rain, but fortunately the wind was much weaker than yesterday, and if it had been in the same state yesterday, I am afraid that even Hagrid would have to be blown into the Black Lake by a strong wind on his broomstick.

Regardless, the opening battle of the annual Quidditch tournament began.

Early in the morning, in order to seize a powerful position, the young wizards of the four academies gathered together in twos and threes, holding umbrellas, and rushed to the court against the strong wind, and the enthusiastic discussion of the students could almost suppress the howling wind and rain.

Because of the accident caused by the Defence Against the Dark Arts class yesterday, Wood got up early in the morning, and on the way to the school hospital, he also brought Harry some porridge and sausages, but he couldn't eat a bite of it himself.

When he walked into the school hospital and saw Harry, who was already wearing a bright red jersey and moving his hands and feet, Wood breathed a sigh of relief.

"I was dreaming about it last night,"

Wood handed the breakfast to Harry,

"If you can't play today, I'll rush into Professor Blaine's office and die with him."

"Don't be stupid, Wood--"

Feeling in good shape, and because Harry was in a good mood because he finally defeated Slytherin yesterday, he said with a smile,

"Even if you pull us all up, it's not enough for Professor Brian to beat him alone... Speaking of which, I wonder if Professor Bryan will go to see our game. ”

"I hope he doesn't go."

Wood said smugly,

"I've found out, it's probably not good to have him in a place."

In fact, Amosta really didn't have the will to watch the game, and after being in the wizarding world for so long, Amosta didn't have much interest in this sport that was popular throughout the wizarding world, not because he wasn't good at broomsticks... In fact, Amosta, who has been on the go all year round, is still very good at riding the broomstick, and when the road is far away, he usually uses the broomstick and the phantom shifter alternately to get there.

Squeak--

Amosta pushed open the door of the office, stopped behind the door, glanced at the crowd on the wall that was constantly gathering outside the castle, and after noticing no surprise, he slowly walked to the marching bed in the room, looked at the sick Remus lying on his bed, pouted, and rested the plate with the sausage and bread on the ground under the edge of the bed.

"Well, it's time for breakfast..."

"Amosta--"

Looking at the funny Amosta, Remus smiled weakly and bitterly,

"Yesterday I ate on the floor because I was a wolf, but that doesn't mean I like it."

"Oh!"

Amosta, who pretended to be awake, scratched his head,

"I'm sorry, I forgot about that!"

I believe you're a ghost!

Remus's drooping eyelids trembled, and he thought to himself, he didn't wonder why Amosta always liked to play tricks on himself when he had nothing to do, as Snape's protégé, Amosta must have known some of the grudges between them.

made a joke that was not big or small, and looking at Remus, who was as fragile as a candle, Amosta was also sympathetic.

To be honest, a wizard like Remus Lupin, who accidentally became a werewolf, had a tragic fate.

In a previous casual conversation, Amosta learned that over the years, every full moon night every month, in order not to hurt others, Remus would find a deserted wilderness, lay a spell to prevent people from accidentally breaking in and restricting his movements, and secretly transformed into a werewolf.

But in that case, Remus, who had lost his mind and couldn't suppress his desire to attack, had no choice but to bite himself, because he didn't have Garon to buy healing potions, his injuries recovered very slowly, and when it was time to repair, another full moon would come.

And after entering Hogwarts, Remus was finally able to drink the wolf poison potion known as the gospel of werewolves... But to be honest, this potion is not a good thing either.

Amosta didn't have the same creative talent for potions as he did in spells, but he wasn't a master, but he was a good player.

The wolf poison potion is one of the few remaining potions masters in the wizarding world, Damocles, who has made a whimsical thing, and Amosta has studied that the basis for this potion to work on werewolves is to fight poison with poison, and use another competing poison to suppress the wolf venom in the werewolf body due to the special magic tide caused by the full moon and riot at a very low level.

But the problem is that wolf poison is a magic virus, which is entangled with the magic of the individual, and when the wolf poison potion kills the virus, it will not only poison the health of the carrier, but also consume the magic power of the carrier.

Therefore, werewolves who have drunk wolf poison potions will only fall into weakness after the full moon period.

In other words, if you drink too much of this medicine, you will lose your life.

"Speaking of which--"

After breakfast, Lupin supported his sick body to the window, he didn't dare to open the window for fear of wind and rain, but listened carefully through a blurred glass, the cries on the Quidditch pitch hooked his deep memory, unconsciously, he thought of his old friend who was known as a Quidditch genius, he recalled the carefree happy times at school, and a smile appeared on the corner of his mouth,

"Even Albus walked out of the office to watch the game, why are you--"

"I'm only interested in things that can improve my strength."

Sitting at his desk, Amosta, who was working on the theoretical research of the Blood Charm, replied calmly.

"You're too yourself, Amosta."

Lupin leaned his back against the cold glass and said to Amosta, who was bowing his eyebrows in contemplation.

However, looking at Amosta, who was immersed in the world of knowledge and unmoved by external objects, he felt a little admiration for being able to have a strength that Albus praised at the age of his early twenties, and talent alone could not explain everything.

Dry firewood crackles and explodes in the hot fireplace.

Somewhat frightened by the cold, Remus slowly moved to the window sash in front of the fireplace, listening to the undulating calls outside the window as he watched the front page of the latest issue of the Daily Prophet, where the impassioned Minister of Magic was telling everyone what an 'amazing' accomplishment they had achieved in capturing Black.

Thinking of Sirius Black, who had entered Hogwarts through mysterious means not long ago, Remus's face sank, and he turned his back to Amosta and looked out the window, looking in an inexplicable direction.

How exactly did Blake get to Hogwarts?

Everyone in Hogwarts, including Albus Dumbledore, and Amosta Blaine, who was immersed in the study of magic behind him at the moment, were speculating about this.

Remus pretended to be as confused as everyone else, but he had a vague guess in his heart, and he knew that the guess was close to the truth, but he couldn't face the answer, and he didn't have the courage to say it, because that answer meant to him that he had betrayed Albus's trust...

"It doesn't have to be this way,"

Remus's face was as bad as the weather outside the house, and he muttered in his own voice,

"Maybe he learned a few hands from Voldemort..."

Perhaps too weak after the transformation, the cold air that came out of the crack in the window made Remus shiver, he took a few steps back and walked to the hearth to bake his cold hands, but it seemed to be of little use, the cold like maggots still pervasive, and made Lupin have a vague sense of despair from which there was nowhere to escape.

Traces of white frost spread through the cracks of the window like stimulated devil's web tentacles, and dark magic swept through the room.

At some point, Amosta, who was meditating at his desk, had already raised his head, and he glanced at Lupin, who was leaning against the fireplace, his face was blue and swinging, and his lilac eyes showed anger,

"Dare to come to my yard to find trouble, tired of being crooked?"













Reading Pavilion