The Prisoners of Hogwarts

Did Chapter 76 tell you everything?

Does Chapter 76 tell the whole story?

The heavy oak door to the principal's office was pushed open from the outside.

Snape walked in from outside the door, wearing a large black robe.

Although the stinging pain from his leg injury was still clear, he walked very fast, but the raging anger churning in his chest had long since overshadowed all the discomfort.

His wide black robe billowed behind him, as unsettling as his emotions at that moment.

Just now, in the opening match of the Quidditch season, Slytherin lost to Gryffindor, which infuriated every Slytherin student and teacher.

But this was not the main reason for Snape's anger at that moment.

His anger was focused on something else that was even more important—someone was trying to hurt the child!

In broad daylight, right before everyone's eyes, he cast a curse on a high-speed flying broom, trying to disguise it as a racing accident to harm him. Fortunately, he keenly sensed the anomaly and cast a counter-curse from the start; otherwise, the child would already be lying in Madam Pomfrey's infirmary.

It could even be worse—they could break their necks and die instantly!

Thinking of this, his anger burned even brighter.

Not only because someone wanted to harm the child, but also because he knew who that person was, yet he had to remain inactive because of Dumbledore's orders.

Snape strode aggressively to Dumbledore's desk, his hands gripping the surface, his dark eyes fixed on Dumbledore: "Please tell me, you summoned me here to discuss what to do with our 'dear' Professor Quirrell!"

Dumbledore looked calmly at Snape: "What has Professor Quirrell done this time?"

"He tried to curse the boy's broom during the game, hoping it would make him fall from a great height!"

"Is the boy alright?" Dumbledore asked with concern.

"He's alright," Snape said through gritted teeth. "I managed to cast a counterspell in time."

"That's good." Dumbledore smiled with relief. "I knew you could handle it."

"That's not the point!" Snape gritted his teeth in anger at Dumbledore. "Ever since Halloween, he's been hiding his wicked plans. You know he's here for that thing you've hidden on the fourth floor, so why don't you bring him out? What are you plotting?"

Don't tell me you're dealing with some nobody like Chilok!

Dumbledore waved his hand gently, and two steaming cups of pumpkin juice appeared silently on the table.

He gestured towards the glass in front of Snape: "Severus, calm down, have something to drink."

Snape didn't even glance at the pumpkin juice. He snorted, crossed his arms, and slumped heavily into the lounge chair with a defiant air: "I don't need it."

Dumbledore didn't take it to heart, picked up his cup and took a big gulp. Then he looked at Snape and realized that although Snape was still angry, the flames in his eyes that were dominated by emotions had subsided slightly, and reason was returning.

He then added, "The boy is safe under your protection; Professor Quirrell cannot harm him."

As for why I didn't subdue Professor Quirrell immediately, you'll find out the reason when the time comes.

I called you here today for another important matter.

Upon hearing Dumbledore's statement that he wouldn't tell him the reason now, Snape let out a short, cold laugh, barely suppressing his anger, which was somewhat theatrical.

He resumed his usual somber tone, tinged with impatience: "Oh? What else does the great Headmaster Dumbledore have..."

"What are your orders?"

Dumbledore remained as calm as ever, and said in a gentle tone, "I want to tell you that there is no need to keep a close watch on Mr. Lynch's every move from now on."

As he spoke, he opened a drawer, took out a pair of small, exquisite bracelets that shimmered with a cold, silvery light, and gently placed them on the table.

They had lost the faint glow that once surrounded Lynch's wrists, appearing dim and quiet.

"Or rather, we've lost the need to monitor Professor Lynch." Dumbledore's gaze swept over the bracelet, then he looked directly at Snape. "The bracelet on his wrist has been removed."

Snape's brow furrowed instantly, his face darkening like the bottom of a failed polychrome potion: "Have you lost your damn senses?"

His voice trembled with shock and anger: "You finally managed to force him to wear these locks by taking advantage of the factory incident, but now you've just casually taken them off?"

What exactly is filling your brain—the syrup of honeydew?!

Dumbledore took another sip of pumpkin juice, ignoring Snape's offensive words, and said calmly, "Mr. Lynch showed me an ancient and powerful magical contract, on which we are finally effectively bound to the same side—Hogwarts."

He pointed to the pair of silver bracelets on the table: "So these bracelets have completed their mission and can retire now."

Snape stared intently at Dumbledore: "So, what about his...shady schemes?"

You yourself said that there's something deeper behind him!

That's why you sent me to monitor him, to find out what he's hiding!

"Regarding this..." Dumbledore's expression became somewhat subtle, carrying a look that was a mixture of understanding and strangeness. "Mr. Lynch has already explained his entire plan to me in detail."

Snape's eyes widened in disbelief. "Don't tell me you believed his nonsense!"

Dumbledore stroked his beard, his tone calm yet carrying undeniable weight: "Mr. Lynch's explanation is very convincing."

"What?" Snape blurted out, his voice heavy with doubt.

"He allowed me to use Legilimency to view his memories."

"What?!" Snape's body tensed instantly, his shock evident in his expression.

"In this way," Dumbledore said slowly, looking intently at the shocked Snape before him, "he told me everything."

"Did you really tell him everything?"

Just as Dumbledore uttered those words to Snape, inside the stone house deep within the Forbidden Forest...

Reggie's hoarse, flat voice emanated from the green fireplace flames.

Lynch sat leisurely on the sofa by the fireplace, elegantly holding a cup of hot nitrogen-filled black tea between his fingertips.

Upon hearing Reggie's words, a subtle smile curved his lips. He took a sip before looking up at the phantom in the flames.

Then he looked at Reggie in the flames, his voice low and steady, as if stating a simple fact: "Of course not."