Chapter 149 "The Campfire"

The eventful trip to Hogsmeade finally ended, leaving Matthew standing atop the castle stairs bidding farewell to his two friends before returning to the Slytherin common room.

Both Hermione and Neville treated the recent occurrences as an absurd "comedy of errors" and departed without discussing it further.

Seated by the campfire in the Slytherin common room, Matthew finally began to feel a glimmer of warmth amidst the lingering uneasy feelings.

He resolved never to set foot in Hogsmeade again...

Two visits to the village, both marked by unfortunate events—it truly was a place of ill fortune.

...

The Slytherin common room was nearly deserted, as most students had ventured to Hogsmeade for the first time that semester, and it was still a Sunday.

Lounging in a plush green armchair, Matthew savored the warmth of the fire crackling in the fireplace. He mulled over the day's events and pondered his next course of action.

Undoubtedly, the experience in Hogsmeade had been incredibly strange this time around.

Despite racking his brain, he couldn't make sense of it all.

"Wickfield!" Suddenly, a familiar voice sounded from behind.

Matthew's thoughts paused, and he responded, "Good afternoon, Lestrange..."

"It's still morning," Agnes Lestrange's tone was chilly.

She approached, came to the fireside, and took a seat not far from Matthew.

"Alright... My sense of time is a bit off..." Matthew glanced down at his watch somewhat sheepishly.

Indeed, Agnes Lestrange was correct—it was only ten-thirty in the morning.

Although it felt like he had spent a long time in Hogsmeade and returned feeling worn out, coupled with the warmth of the fire, his spirits dampened and his mood less than cheerful... In reality, barely two hours had passed since he left Hogwarts in the morning.

"Did you not go to Hogsmeade?" Agnes Lestrange inquired, extending her hand toward the flames. "I saw you and Gryffindor's Longbottom and Ravenclaw's Granger pass by... Why are they back already?"

"Yes, I wasn't feeling well, so I came back," Matthew explained with a light cough.

A brief silence hung in the air between them.

Matthew wasn't quite sure how to continue the conversation.

As for Lestrange, she pursed her lips, appearing deep in thought.

"So..." she began softly, her tone noticeably less cold and more subdued, "You dislike Dementors?"

"Dislike Dementors?"

Matthew quickly realized that she had misunderstood something.

Having left Hogsmeade early and returned quickly, coupled with sitting by the fireside, his tired appearance, and somber mood, Agnes might have assumed that the Dementors had affected him...

However, he wasn't keen on explaining or elaborating, especially given his own uncertainty.

Moreover, this misunderstanding seemed to provide him with a convenient reason to avoid Hogsmeade in the future.

In response, he sighed, feigning a touch of emotion. "Those creatures are like hellish monsters...they seem to drain the peace, hope, and happiness from the air. When you get close to them, it's as if they absorb the warmth, leaving only coldness and discomfort... I loathe them, really loathe them..."

Matthew hadn't finished speaking when—

Agnes Lestrange suddenly lowered her head, her hands covering her face.

It seemed she was crying...

...

Frankly, this left Matthew quite disconcerted.

Agnes Lestrange had always exuded an icy and unyielding demeanor.

Witnessing her display such vulnerability was a first for him.

However, he wasn't sure how to console her, so he simply waited.

After what felt like a while, the silver-haired girl raised her head again.

Her eyes were still red from crying.

"Apologies, I lost my composure," she said softly. "I thought of something unpleasant..."

"It's my fault, I shouldn't have brought up the Dementors," Matthew quickly responded.

"It's alright," she managed a faint, wistful smile. "It seems we all carry pasts we'd rather not think about..."

Matthew nodded with a vague understanding.

Thankfully, an owl flew in at that moment, interrupting the awkwardness.

The owl dropped a letter in front of Matthew before departing as swiftly as it had come.

Adorning the envelope was a depiction of a gigantic slug, quite eye-catching...

Without question, the letter was from Professor Slughorn, the Potions Professor.

Matthew opened it at his leisure.

Though the content was brief, Professor Slughorn reminded him about the evening Slug Club dinner.

He tossed the envelope and letter into the fireplace with a sense of finality, making them part of the fire's fuel.

...

"Did Slughorn send that to you?" Agnes asked suddenly.

Her tone was cautious.

Matthew noticed she didn't use the honorific title when addressing the Slytherin Head of House.

"Yes..." Matthew nodded.

"I'd advise you to stay away from him... Horace Slughorn is a dangerous man!" the silver-haired girl stated gravely.

Matthew couldn't help but furrow his brow slightly.

This marked the second time Agnes Lestrange had sounded such a "warning" to him.

The first instance was during Christmas the previous year...

Despite Professor Slughorn not demonstrating any apparent "danger" since then...

Matthew believed that she wouldn't make such claims without reason.

"Why?" Matthew inquired softly.

"The inner circle around Horace Slughorn... its members, especially those of Muggle lineage... often end up rather unsavory," Agnes hesitated for a moment before explaining. "Of course, this is just what I've heard..."

"...Additionally, Slughorn maintains close associations with certain off-campus wizards of questionable repute, such as Lucius Malfoy..."

"So..." Matthew nodded with solemn gratitude. "Thank you."

He leaned back into the armchair, eyes narrowing as he pondered the events that had transpired.