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Chapter 170: Night Kneazle Geraldine
At the height of the crisis, a remarkably aged House-elf suddenly appeared beside Harry, seizing his arm and vanishing with him in an instant.
At the same moment, three or four spells struck the attacking Night Kneazle, freezing it midair.
One of the spells came from Wade. He stood with his wand raised, then flipped off the creature’s back and sprinted over to investigate.
Moments later, Professor Sprout and Professor Snape arrived on the scene.
“What in Merlin’s name is going on?” Snape demanded, his face dark as thunder, eyes flashing with suspicion as they locked onto the wide-eyed girls.
“A… something invisible… it attacked Harry Potter!” one small girl stammered, her voice trembling, on the verge of tears.
“A House-elf took Harry away!” Wade glanced at the girl’s fiery red hair—another Weasley.
Hagrid hurried over, scanning the floating Night Kneazle with a mixture of worry and confusion. “But Geraldine’s a gentle creature… it’s never hurt anyone before.”
“Perhaps the foolish Gryffindor did something to provoke it?” Snape said coldly. “He must have angered the beast.”
“Harry did nothing!” Ginny Weasley summoned her courage, meeting the Potions Professor’s glare head-on. “He just helped us drive off a Grindylow—then he was attacked out of nowhere!”
“I don’t believe it was Harry’s fault, Professor,” Wade said suddenly, his tone serious. “Look at this Night Kneazle—it has a wound on its back.”
Snape stepped forward, examining the thin, bleeding cut near the base of the creature’s spine. He leaned closer, his eagle-like nose twitching twice.
“Khat Grass,” he murmured.
“Khat Grass?” Ginny echoed instinctively.
“Check your textbooks, Miss Weasley,” Snape snapped, glancing at her. “Khat Grass is used to brew Confusion Potion. It induces fear, palpitations, hallucinations, even violent agitation.”
“So… someone inside fed it the potion?” Wade’s expression hardened. “Were they trying to harm Harry… or cause chaos in Hogwarts?”
Professor Sprout pried open the Night Kneazle’s mouth. “Not a finished potion,” she said. “There are still traces of grass roots between its cracked teeth. Someone gave it a large dose of raw Khat Grass.”
“I remember this plant is primarily grown in East Africa and parts of the A-Pullber region,” Wade recalled. “It’s banned in most countries for transport and sale. But… Britain and New Zealand allow limited cultivation. Still, it’s not something the average person could easily get their hands on.”
“Given the right access, obtaining it is far easier than you think,” Snape mused. “More importantly… who would even dare target a Night Kneazle at Hogwarts?”
Hagrid growled, fists clenched. “If I ever find out who did this, I’ll make sure they regret it.”
Ginny stood silently by, listening as the adults debated. Her friend tugged at her sleeve, urging her to leave, but she remained rooted to the spot.
Only when the conversation paused did she finally whisper, “Professor… Harry was taken away…”
“The House-elf will bring him to the Infirmary,” Snape replied, his voice flat and unyielding. “If that’s what you’re asking.”
His tone was icy, his demeanor unimpressed—but compared to how he usually treated Gryffindors, this was almost gentle.
Wade studied the girl’s red hair, thoughtful. “Thank you, Professor.”
Ginny didn’t feel special. She only felt the familiar chill of Snape’s presence—cold, distant, and utterly terrifying.
She murmured her thanks, then pulled her friends and fled.
At that moment, Dumbledore arrived.
He’d been delayed because he’d first gone to check on Harry—his robes still bore faint traces of blood.
“How is Harry, Dumbledore?” Hagrid asked anxiously.
“Just a few superficial wounds,” Dumbledore replied calmly. “Madam Pomfrey will have him fixed in no time.”
He raised his wand and gently scanned the Night Kneazle, then listened as Professor Sprout relayed the findings.
Dumbledore gave a slow, thoughtful nod.
“Hagrid, take all the Night Kneazles back to the stables. I believe we need a full inspection.”
“What about Geraldine, sir?” Hagrid asked, hesitant. “I know he hurt Harry… but he didn’t mean to. Geraldine’s always been good-hearted…”
“Of course,” Dumbledore said. “He was used—manipulated by someone with ill intent. Until the effects wear off, you’ll be responsible for him.”
“Yes, Professor,” Hagrid said, sniffing, then carefully lifted the immobilized creature and carried it off.
“Dumbledore!” Snape objected. “A beast that’s harmed someone shouldn’t be allowed to stay.”
Professor Sprout frowned. “There’s a difference between actively harming and being driven to harm. Severus, this creature was poisoned by Khat Grass—it didn’t know what it was doing.”
Dumbledore didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he turned to Wade. “Mr. Gray, what’s your take on this?”
Wade blinked.
Snape and Sprout both looked at him.
Under their combined scrutiny, he paused, then said, “I think we should first dismiss the students who were participating in the challenge. The project should be suspended temporarily while we check if any other creatures have been tampered with.”
“As for Geraldine… why not ask Harry himself? After all, he’s the one who was attacked.”
Dumbledore nodded slowly. “Then that’s settled.”
Snape let out a cold, disapproving grunt, his eyes narrowing at Wade—clearly displeased.
Everyone present knew the truth: given Harry’s nature and his bond with Hagrid, he’d never press charges. Wade simply ignored it.
After all, Snape had always been like this—harsh, unyielding, never offering praise. But when help was needed, he never refused. He answered every question, no matter how obscure, even when it went beyond the syllabus.
Wade had stopped attending Potions classes in the dungeons after switching to the Room of Requirement for his brewing. He’d been mocked twice by Snape in the hallways—only later realizing the professor’s icy tone meant, “Don’t quit. Don’t give up.”
Wade: “….”
So after the next class, he brought his recent work to Snape, explaining he’d changed locations because some potions took too long to brew and couldn’t keep occupying the classroom.
He received only a curt, “Acceptable.” Then, “Don’t get full of yourself.”
And that was enough.
This chapter may run late.
(End of Chapter)
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