"Wes, aren't you going to watch the Quidditch match?"
Hagrid looked curiously at Wes, who was sprawled comfortably across the rug with a relaxed expression.
Ever since his last visit, Hagrid's cozy and uniquely charming hut had become Wes's favorite retreat to unwind.
Sometimes, he would immerse himself in books or concentrate on brewing potions. But whenever he felt weary, he would come here to rest.
Perhaps it was the abundance of rare and curious magical materials decorating the place—just quietly admiring them brought Wes a deep sense of satisfaction.
Each time he came, Wes would considerately bring a few bottles of fine wine.
Hagrid casually picked up a bottle of red wine. With a flick of his finger, the cork popped off with a sharp pop.
Without hesitation, he chugged it straight from the bottle, downing the entire thing in just a few gulps. Drops of wine clung to his thick beard.
Just then, the sturdy wooden door burst open with a loud bang, and Harry, Ron, and Hermione rushed in, their faces filled with panic.
"Hagrid! Harry was almost killed today!" Hermione shouted anxiously.
"That's right!" Ron echoed, his voice tense.
The three of them were clearly shaken and started speaking over one another.
Hagrid blinked his bleary eyes, his face full of confusion.
"What? What are you talking about? I don't understand a word."
He fumbled with the bottle still in his hand.
With a loud thud, it slipped and shattered on the floor, spilling wine all over the place.
Fang, who had been enjoying Wes's massage nearby, perked up at the noise and excitedly bounded over, eagerly lapping up the wine.
Hagrid quickly bent down to pick up the bottle, muttering,
"Hey now, you cheeky little rascal—this is high-quality wine! Can't just waste it like that."
At that moment, his full attention was on the spilled wine and the slobbering dog.
"Wine?" Hermione put her hands on her hips and glared.
"Hagrid, I clearly remember you were supposed to be patrolling near the stadium today. Why are you hiding at home drinking?"
"Uh… well…" Hagrid's small eyes darted nervously until he suddenly clapped his forehead and exclaimed,
"It was Wes! He came to discuss something important. We're working on a project together—I'm not skipping duty!"
Only then did the trio notice Wes lounging on the rug.
"Professor Elwin!!" they exclaimed in unison, eyes wide in surprise. None of them had expected to find the new professor here.
Wes lazily waved a hand at them.
"Don't mind me. Just pretend I'm not here."
"Right," said Hagrid quickly, trying to change the subject,
"You said Harry was nearly attacked? What happened exactly?"
Hermione, still breathless, launched into a detailed explanation of the terrifying incident on the Quidditch pitch. She described what she'd seen and ended with her firm conclusion: Snape was the prime suspect.
"No way!" Hagrid shouted, waving his hands furiously.
"Professor Snape would never harm Harry—absolutely not!"
"But… he really seems to hate me," Harry mumbled, furrowing his brows and looking genuinely troubled. He clearly believed Hermione's deduction.
"I saw it with my own eyes," Hermione insisted.
"Snape was muttering a curse toward Harry's broom, and when I set fire to his cloak, the broom instantly stabilized."
"Yeah, that has to be it," Ron chimed in, nodding forcefully, his expression resolute.
Wes couldn't help but let out a small chuckle as he listened to their conversation.
Hermione, proud as a swan, lifted her chin high and huffed,
"Professor Elwin doesn't believe in my deduction! I've read several volumes of The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes! My reasoning can't be wrong."
"Try reading fewer detective novels," Wes replied, shaking his head with a sigh.
Hermione blinked in surprise—clearly not expecting Wes to be familiar with Sherlock Holmes at all.
"I grew up in the Muggle world. Naturally, I know about these things," Wes said earnestly, sitting up a little straighter.
Still unconvinced, Hermione plopped down beside him with a thud.
"Then tell me, why can't it be Professor Snape?"
Harry, looking like a wounded little deer, nervously shuffled over and stared at Wes with big, pleading eyes.
"Fine, I'll be generous for once," Wes sighed, crossing his legs as he sat upright.
"First of all, Professor Snape is a Potions Master. Do you know what that means?"
The three of them glanced at each other, then shook their heads in unison.
"Right now, throughout the entire British magical community, Professor Snape is the only one officially recognized as a Potions Master."
The trio's eyes widened in shock, their mouths forming perfect O's.
"So he's that amazing?"
Harry still didn't entirely understand what a Potions Master was, but just knowing there was only one in all of Britain was enough to leave him impressed.
Hermione, however, was still unconvinced.
"That only proves he's highly skilled in potion-making. It doesn't completely rule him out as a suspect."
Ron nodded in agreement beside her.
Wes sighed again. "I really don't get why you all hold such a strong bias against Professor Snape."
"If Snape is a Potions Master, brewing a deadly poison would be child's play for him. Why would he resort to cursing a broom in front of a huge crowd? Isn't that the easiest way to expose himself?"
Hermione found herself unable to argue—Wes's logic was sound and reasonable.
"But Harry's broom was acting strangely," she mumbled, scratching her head in frustration. It was hard to let go of a clue she had worked so hard to uncover.
"That just means someone else cursed the broom. Snape was probably casting a counter-curse to protect Harry."
"Protect me? Professor Snape?" Harry looked stunned, eyes wide with disbelief.
"The culprit was right there," Hermione said firmly, then her eyes glazed with doubt again.
"But… who was it?"
All three turned their hopeful gazes toward Wes.
"How should I know?" Wes shrugged.
"I wasn't there. I didn't see anything firsthand."
The trio, who had come brimming with hope, could only leave disappointed.
"Wes, can't you help them?" Hagrid's voice caught slightly, full of emotion.
"Harry's a poor kid…"
"Isn't Dumbledore still around? He's always watching over Harry."
"Yes, that's true," Hagrid said with conviction. As a die-hard Dumbledore loyalist, he firmly believed the headmaster could solve any problem.
Wes leaned back onto the rug again, relaxing his body and casually resuming his chat with Hagrid.