Thanks to Draco's promotion, everyone at Hogwarts, from Dumbledore to the ghosts, now knew that Slytherin had the youngest Seeker in history.
Hoare scratched his head. To be honest, he felt like another Harry Potter at Hogwarts, constantly being watched.
Fortunately, he had the Marauder's Map in hand, which allowed him to effectively avoid the crowds.
What puzzled him, though, was that ever since he became a Slytherin starter, Ron, his foolish brother, would give him the cold shoulder every time they met!
This guy was getting bold! Hoare thought angrily, deciding to sneak out one night and teach Ron a lesson by taking away Scabbers. After all, not everyone in Gryffindor was nice.
Speaking of Scabbers, Hoare's eyes gleamed.
When Percy first brought Scabbers home, Hoare immediately recognized what it was and tried many times to get rid of it.
He didn't know if it was just luck or if Scabbers had maxed out its evasion skills, but it managed to escape every time.
Hoare knew who Scabbers really was, but without evidence, he couldn't hand it over to the Ministry of Magic. Who would believe a child's words?
Animagus was the pinnacle of Transfiguration.
Mastering it was a difficult and lengthy process, taking several years.
Moreover, the transformation process could be risky, with some people losing themselves and never returning to human form.
There were only seven registered Animagi in history, though there were illegal ones, like Ron's Scabbers.
Naturally, not everyone knew the spell to reverse it.
Back then, Hoare didn't know who to ask for help, but now it was different.
This was Hogwarts, where many could reverse an Animagus transformation.
With this in mind, Hoare decided to act that night.
Then he was stopped by Marcus Flint, who demanded he go to the small lawn by the Forbidden Forest for training that afternoon.
Marcus Flint, the captain and Seeker of the Slytherin Quidditch team, initially felt indignant and even tried to muster the courage to oppose the headmaster.
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Unfortunately, his courage vanished the moment he saw the headmaster. After all, he was a Slytherin, not a Gryffindor; self-preservation was in his bones.
Hoare arrived at the small lawn, where the others were already on their brooms, waiting for him.
Flint had privately hinted to all the starters to give Hoare a hard time, hoping to embarrass him into quitting the team.
Hoare looked at the scene before him, holding a training broom, and smiled kindly.
Then, within fifteen minutes, he had Flint and the older students crying for their mothers, falling off their brooms, and writhing in pain on the lawn.
Hoare ignored them. Didn't he know his own strength?
He was holding back, after all. Otherwise, his strength of eight could have easily broken their bones.
The sight made Dumbledore clap enthusiastically.
Dumbledore?
Hoare landed his broom in front of Dumbledore and dismounted. "Headmaster?"
Dumbledore looked as if he had just watched an exceptionally thrilling match, his face full of satisfaction.
Hoare thought about how Gryffindor had always been beaten by the Slytherin team. It seemed Dumbledore had been secretly displeased for a long time.
"Henry, that was a beautiful play you made just now," Dumbledore said, pulling out a handkerchief to wipe the tears from his eyes. "It's been a long time since I've seen such an exciting Quidditch match."
Hoare... You haven't seen a Slytherin starter knocked off their broom by a single shot in a long time, have you?
"Hahaha, come, child, accompany this old man for a walk," Dumbledore invited.
Hoare handed his training broom to the just-recovered Flint, removed his gloves, and followed Dumbledore.
As for training, Flint and the others probably needed to nurse their injuries more.
Dumbledore led Hoare on a walk across the school's central lawn, where many students were gathered in small groups. They greeted Dumbledore warmly, regardless of their house.
Hoare was puzzled. He didn't know why Dumbledore had sought him out. Could it be about Quirrell?
After the Quidditch lesson that day, Hoare had informed the headmaster, who said he would handle it.
But when he saw the headmaster that evening, he was told that Madam Pomfrey had testified that Quirrell hadn't left the infirmary that day.
The matter was left unresolved, but Hoare's anger simmered beneath the surface, waiting for the right moment.
Hoare wondered if Dumbledore had sensed his plan to ambush Quirrell. Impossible, the sack was still safely tucked in his dormitory drawer.
Could it be about the Squib potion?
But the headmaster received daily reports on the potion's progress from Snape.
Was he dissatisfied with their slow progress?
They couldn't be blamed for that. They had tried all sorts of rare and common ingredients, yet the potion's stability remained poor, and its duration fell short of expectations.
Experiments always required time and money.
So why had he sought him out?
Hoare couldn't think of any other reason.
When he snapped back to reality, he found himself standing by the Great Lake, with only the fish swimming in the lake and Dumbledore beside him.
Dumbledore spoke, "Henry, you're a good child."
At these words, Hoare's scalp tingled, and he quickly stopped Dumbledore from continuing his praise. "Headmaster, if you have something to say, please say it directly."
"Hahaha, you see, your headmaster has been so busy lately that his dark circles have deepened," Dumbledore laughed, getting straight to the point.
"Headmaster's face doesn't show any dark circles," Hoare recalled Snape's sallow complexion, searching for any sign of dark circles but finding none.
"Ahem, they are there, after all, he's getting older," Dumbledore continued. "So, I'd like to ask you for a favor, to help your headmaster. You wouldn't refuse, would you..."
"Wait, wait, wait," Hoare quickly interrupted, stepping back. "Please tell me what it is first."
Dumbledore, rarely refused, paused for a moment, then stroked his long, white beard and continued, "I'd like to invite you to become a teaching assistant for Potions, to help Severus teach the lower years."
"This should be easy for you."
As expected, Hoare thought.
Because Quirrell's health had yet to recover, his Defense Against the Dark Arts classes were replaced by others, with Snape's Potions classes taking up the most time.
Perhaps it was because Snape had never become the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor.
Now, taking over the time originally meant for Defense Against the Dark Arts, it was still considered teaching.
How could it not be?
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