The clouds open and the moon is bright, and everything is settled.

In the office, Amosta and Dumbledore sat on the couch, staring at each other. The expressions of both of them were calmer than the other expected, no surprise, no annoyance, no excitement and confusion, and some, just a hint of relief after the final answer was revealed.

The open flame in the fireplace is extinguished, the charcoal is smoking, and the light from the entrance wall becomes the only source of light in the office. Amosta leaned back on the soft sofa, her eyes chasing the light smoke rising from the teacup, rubbing her chin unconsciously,

"There's a polyjuice decoction in the flask?"

"I agree with you, Amosta—" Dumbledore said calmly,

"That says at least one thing, Alasto. I mean, he should be alive and he should be hidden by the fake Moody so that the fake Moody can take his hair at any time. Hmm, I think Alastor should be in Fake Moody's office, what do you think, Amosta? ”

"It's reasonable to speculate—"

Amosta bowed slightly, in agreement. His gaze lingered on Dumbledore's slightly obscure old face through the mist of mist, and he couldn't help but feel a little admiration in his heart.

Alastor Moody has been a friend of Dumbledore's for many years, but after knowing that his friend is in trouble, Dumbledore is extremely calm, as if he is not worried about his friend at all, and when it is necessary to show decisiveness and coldness, Albus Dumbledore is not stingy with his sanity at all, and this is the most awe-inspiring thing about the greatest wizard of our time, Albus Dumbledore.

"I don't understand--"

After a moment of contemplation, Amosta shook his head, then looked directly at the blue pupils behind the frame of Dumbledore's half-moon glasses,

"I remember you telling me that it was my Patronus last year when the Dementors who captured Sirius stormed the campus. There was a bit of a change, and you said to me at the time that you can somehow peek into a person's soul, Headmaster Dumbledore, then you shouldn't be blinded by Polyjuice Potion, right, especially, Professor Moody is still your old friend? ”

"I don't want to excuse my mistake, Amosta, but it's a terrible mistake—"

The corners of Dumbledore's mouth finally appeared with a wisp of bitterness that was understandable to ordinary people,

"I trusted Alastor Moody, who was my right-hand man, a staunch supporter, and that trust made me take it lightly and made me ignore some of the unusual behaviors of the fake Moody after entering Hogwarts, and observe the state of a person's soul--"

Dumbledore paused, his eyes sparkling in the dimness,

"I do have this ability, but this unusual ability is not as easy as getting something to eat from the kitchen with a summoning charm, it comes at a cost, and I want to be healthy until I see the end of Tom, and if Tom finds out that I am old enough to need help walking, then he will be proud. As a professor, I want to be able to maintain a basic demeanor in front of my former students—"

Amosta looked deeply at Dumbledore, unsure if his explanation was a cover-up or the truth.

For a long time, there has been speculation about Albus Dumbledore's old skills.

Since the battle of the century with Grindelwald, outsiders have hardly heard of Dumbledore pulling a wand again, they think that Albus Dumbledore, who is over 100 years old, has little ability, and they fear him only because Dumbledore is highly respected.

Even some people close to Dumbledore only see Dumbledore as a spiritual leader and pillar, and they trust Dumbledore's wisdom rather than his power.

Perhaps, Amosta is the one who knows Dumbledore's strength best.

Dumbledore's old body always exuded a hint of menace that reminded him that this hundred-year-old legendary wizard was not as weak as outsiders imagined, and Amosta even suspected that Dumbledore had some kind of hole card, and he had kept this hole card to deter Voldemort. Or yourself.

"Do you think—"

Amosta looked away and asked softly,

"Headmaster Dumbledore, do you think we need to find out the identity of the fake Moody?"

"Ah, of course—"

Dumbledore got up from the couch, "While we've formed a tacit understanding of getting Tom back to mana, at the very least, we'll have to figure out who we're paying for. Come on, Amosta, let's get this straight-"

The night was bleak, Hogwarts, which was located on the high ground, had fallen into a deep sleep, and the entire castle seemed to be resting only the Headmaster of Hogwarts and the Director of Student Safety. Of course, the hard-working elves in the kitchen should be busy with survival.

Dumbledore and Amosta crossed the bridge that was erected over a thousand feet of space, and walked through a labyrinth of corridors to the tower where Dumbledore's office was located.

In the headmaster's office, Fawkes was perched on a golden branch on a brazier, portraits of the former headmasters were sleeping on the walls, and the office was filled with the comical noise of the strange alchemy utensils.

"Sit down, Amosta, we need a little prop to help—"

Amosta sat down where he usually sits, while Dumbledore walked to the bookshelf with a sturdy stride, and removed a delicate silver instrument from the cubicle on the lower level and carried it to his desk. For some reason, Amosta always felt a rush of excitement in Dumbledore's steps, as if Hermione had seen a final exam question that suited her taste.

"Let's see--"

Dumbledore pulled out his wand and tapped the instrument gently, and Amosta could feel an obscure wave that swept over in an instant, spreading in all directions, quickly breaking through the Headmaster's office.

Time stopped for more than ten seconds, and then, without warning, the instrument began to work, making a rhythmic ding-dong sound, and the small silver tube at the top spewed out wisps of pale green smoke, gathering in the air Amosta stood up naturally, and both he and Dumbledore watched intently as the smoke gradually thickened and stabilized, waiting for it to be completely finalized.

Bang!

And just a second before the answer surfaced, a wisp of greener light suddenly flashed in the clouds, Dumbledore's eyes instantly sharpened, he suddenly waved his wand, and the steady smoke popped away under his interference, and the bright green light also dissipated in the sight of the two people.

"Oh, that's funny—"

This time, it was Dumbledore who made such an emotion, and he said with great interest,

"Very vigilant and careful, I think he was on guard from all levels, including the soul, of course--"

Dumbledore looked up at Amosta and smiled,

"The unknown gentleman or lady has a wonderful way of disguised his soul, and I almost touched it, but. . . In my opinion, this doesn't look like a wizard's technique. ”

If Amosta didn't understand Dumbledore's hints, he would be foolish enough, in fact, it was a conclusion that didn't require much thought.

After a long silence, Amosta suddenly sighed and shook his head,

"Vitia Cleona, she's made up her mind to spend the rest of her life in Azkaban."

(End of chapter)