The Prisoners of Hogwarts

Chapter 261 Revealing the Assessment and Choice

Chapter 261 Revealing the Assessment Decision (5.1K) (1/2)

the next day.

Harry seemed distracted all day.

The truths he learned from Lynch and Hagrid ran rampant through his mind like a swarm of restless Cornish elves—"the hangman," the death battle with Voldemort, the Avada Kedavra curse, the thousand-year imprisonment—these heavy and dark words repeatedly crushed his thoughts.

During Potions class, as Snape asked questions in his sticky voice about the properties of African tree snakeskin, Harry was staring at the bubbling cauldron, but what flashed before his eyes was the ominous green light he had seen before.

He didn't hear the question at all until Hermione kicked him hard under the table, snapping him back to reality. He was only met with a cold, mocking look from Snape and the words, "It seems Mr. Potter's illustrious Quidditch record hasn't helped him understand the mysteries of potions. Gryffindor, deduct ten points for clearly being distracted."

This is just the beginning.

He then carelessly added the wrong porcupine quills, causing the cauldron to emit an unpleasant burnt smell. Snape seized the opportunity to deduct another five points for "carelessness and wasting materials."

Throughout the entire class, he alone contributed a negative 15 points to Gryffindor, setting a personal record for points deducted in a single period.

His performance during the afternoon Quidditch practice was even worse.

As the Seeker, he couldn't concentrate at all. Several times the Golden Snitch hovered right in front of him, but he just stared blankly at other things as if he didn't see it.

In a simple passing sequence, he somehow managed to pass the Quaffle directly to the back of the head of the Chaser, Katie Bell.

"Harry! What's wrong with you today?" Captain Oliver Wood flew to his side on his broomstick, his brow furrowed.

Wood is in seventh grade, and this is his last chance to win the Quidditch Cup for the school, so he takes every training session very seriously.

Looking at Harry's pale face and bloodshot eyes, he swallowed back the harsh criticism that was on the tip of his tongue.

After all, Harry once again selflessly contributed his high-performance Nimbus 2001 to the team as a spare broom this school year—this was the second time Harry had contributed his broom since the Nimbus 2000.

Wood finally just sighed, patted Harry on the shoulder, and said in a much gentler tone, "You look terrible, man. Go get some rest and let the backup Seeker practice for a bit. Get yourself in shape; we're playing Hufflepuff next week, we can't afford to mess up."

Harry nodded in shame, silently landed on the ground, sat on the cold wooden bench by the field, and buried his face in his hands.

The sense of defeat and the heaviness in his heart almost crushed him.

"Harry?" A familiar voice called out.

Ron and Hermione had somehow appeared at the sidelines, watching him with concern. They had clearly witnessed his poor performance in training just now.

"Are you alright?" Hermione sat down beside him and asked softly. "You've been acting strange all day, even in Potions class—did you—have another nightmare?"

She was referring to the nightmares Harry had been having ever since the Dementors attack on the train before school started.

Harry looked up and saw the concerned looks in his two friends' eyes; the dam in his heart finally broke down.

He needed to confide in someone, he needed someone to share this secret that was almost consuming him.

"It wasn't a nightmare—" His voice was hoarse and trembling slightly, "It was—it was about Uncle Lynch."

Under the bewildered gazes of Ron and Hermione, Harry took a deep breath, as if using all his strength, and began to speak haltingly.

From Hagrid's inadvertent revelation of "ten years of imprisonment" to the horrifying truth he learned last night in the stone house—

He told his two friends everything about the "Gallows," the battle with Voldemort, his research on the Killing Curse, his ten-year imprisonment, and the misunderstandings behind it.

As Harry narrated, Ron and Hermione's expressions gradually shifted from initial curiosity to astonishment, disbelief, and finally, they froze in a state of near-dull shock.

When Harry finally finished speaking the last word, a deathly silence fell over the corner.

Ron's mouth was agape enough to fit a chocolate frog; he stammered as if he were meeting Harry's "Uncle Lynch" for the first time, trying to process the information.

"The Hangman?!" he shrieked, his voice trembling, his body leaning forward involuntarily as if to confirm he hadn't misheard. "You mean—Professor Lynch is—is the Hangman? The real Hangman?" His eyes were filled with disbelief and the immense shock of a legend becoming reality. "Merlin's Beard! The Hangman is your uncle?! And he's our professor?"

Ron's voice was filled with awe and excitement. A historical legend had suddenly come to life in his life, a shock far greater than hearing a stranger's name.

In contrast, Hermione's reaction was more of pure shock and quick thinking based on the information.

As a Muggle, she only saw vague records of the "Hanger" in some obscure magical history materials after she enrolled in school. She knew that it was a legendary wizard who hunted down dark wizards with cruel methods, but she didn't know the specific details. Her understanding of it was far less direct and profound than Ron's.

Her pale face showed disbelief: "Professor Lynch—he personally—executed so many dark wizards? And even faced Voldemort head-on?" More than the legendary title, the battle with Voldemort and the ten years of imprisonment made her heart tremble. "Headmaster Dumbledore—he must have thought it was the only option at the time—" She instinctively tried to understand the headmaster's actions, but her furrowed brows showed that she was also filled with contradictions and confusion.

"I'm telling you now," Harry said, looking at his two best friends, his voice weary and pleading, "you must swear an oath never to tell anyone!"

After receiving a solemn promise from Ron—who swore on all his future Wizarding Battle cards—and Hermione, the three fell into a brief silence, digesting this earth-shattering secret.

"Merlin—" Ron murmured again, shaking his head as if trying to clear his mind, looking at Harry with a complicated expression. "So he's not just a great professor—he's a living legend. A legend I've heard since I was a kid! It's just—I mean, it's just too—" He couldn't find the right words, but the fear in his voice gradually faded, replaced by a Gryffindor-like awe and subtle admiration for ultimate power and legendary experiences.

"Ron!" Hermione glared at him disapprovingly, but her thoughts were also caught up in the moment. "The point isn't how legendary he is! The point is, he's on our side now, Harry. He's protecting you, teaching you. And, according to him, that imprisonment—though extreme and stemming from a misunderstanding—may have, in effect, prevented him from being corrupted by Voldemort's darkness and gave him time to see the truth."

She tried to analyze the situation rationally, attempting to find a logical thread amidst the chaos: "Principal Dumbledore saw the worst-case scenario and took action. Professor Lynch—he endured it all, moved on, and even chose not to harbor resentment. That requires unimaginable willpower."

Harry said sullenly, "I know—Uncle Lynch said he doesn't blame Dumbledore either. But I just—"

I just feel really uncomfortable. Thinking about how he was imprisoned there for ten years, all because of a misunderstanding—"

“Listen, Harry,” Hermione’s tone softened but became firm. “We can’t change the past. What matters is the present. Professor Lynch is free now, and he’s helping you and protecting Hogwarts. He’s even willing to go to such lengths for Hagrid. Doesn’t that prove he hasn’t gone astray as Dumbledore feared? He’s proven himself through his actions.”

Ron leaned in, offering his usual comforting words: "Hermione's right. And think about it, someone who came through that battle and ten years of imprisonment, he's our backbone now! As long as he's on our side, dealing with Voldemort...—uh, I mean, Vader," he shuddered, "I feel—"

I feel like I've gained a bit more confidence, you know?

Listening to his friends' words—Hermione's rational analysis and Ron's somewhat impulsive yet sincere encouragement—Harry's heavy heart gradually eased.

Yes, the past cannot be changed, but Uncle Lynch chose to look forward, chose to continue the fight, and even chose to forgive. He remains an elder he can trust, perhaps even more resilient and stronger than he knew.

"Thank you." Harry took a deep breath, feeling as if the boulder on his chest had been lifted a little.

Sharing secrets and gaining understanding and support from friends helped him stop feeling lonely and suffocated.

Another day later, Hagrid sent a solemnly worded letter via owl, indicating that he was ready to accept Lynch's test.

In the afternoon, in that familiar clearing at the edge of the Forbidden Forest, Harry, Ron, and Hermione stood nervously to the side as witnesses.

When Lynch's tall, well-dressed figure appeared precisely at the end of the path, the air seemed to freeze for a moment.

Without exchanging pleasantries, Lin Qi walked directly to Hagrid, who was standing in the center of the field, nervously rubbing his large hands together.

His deep gaze calmly settled on Hagrid, and he went straight to the point, posing a question that stunned Harry, Meghan, and the other two listening: "Hagrid, imagine this scenario: a magical creature you adore, even consider a companion, suddenly goes berserk for some reason and is attacking an unsuspecting student. The situation is critical, you hold your wand, and the only way to instantly stop the tragedy and save the student's life is to kill the animal." Lynch's voice was clear and calm, devoid of any emotion. "Would you do it?"

This question struck Hagrid like a hammer blow.

His massive body swayed violently, and his face instantly turned deathly pale.

He opened his mouth, making a hoarse, almost whimpering sound from his throat, and his beetle-like, dark eyes were filled with intense pain and struggle.

He was asked to kill a creature he considered "cute" with his own hands?

This is like tearing his heart out!

Harry almost couldn't help but speak up in Hagrid's defense, Hermione nervously covered her mouth, and Ron's eyes widened as he felt Lynch's question was too cruel.

However, just when they thought Hagrid would break down or refuse to answer, he suddenly closed his eyes, his huge, hairy head drooping in pain, his shoulders trembling violently. After a few suffocating seconds of silence, he raised his head again, his face showing an almost desperate determination, and answered in a hoarse but unusually clear voice: "I will—I will do it."

This answer completely shocked Harry and his friends.

Lin Qi's lips curved upwards almost imperceptibly, revealing a faint but genuine smile.

He pressed on, his tone remaining calm: "Tell me, Hagrid, why did you make this choice?"

This seems to go against your long-held principles.

Hagrid took a deep breath, as if using all his strength, and his huge hands unconsciously clenched into fists, his nails digging deep into his palms.

His gaze swept over Harry, Ron, and Hermione, whose faces were filled with worry, and his voice was heavy and slow: "Because—because I am, after all, a wizard." He paused, struggling to organize his thoughts, revealing his truest feelings, "I love magical creatures, and I think most of them are good and beautiful—but—but more importantly, I am a professor."

His voice choked with emotion: "My duty is to protect every child sitting in my classroom. If—if one day, in front of me, a child like Harry, or Ron, or Hermione, or any other house—is harmed, or even—even killed—by one of my proud little darlings—"

As he said this, his massive body trembled with lingering fear: "I will never forgive myself for the rest of my life! I love them, but I can't gamble with my students' lives! A professor's wand should first be pointed at anything that threatens the safety of his students, even if—even if that thing is something I love—"

He couldn't continue speaking; huge tears rolled down his swollen eyes and slid down his rough cheeks.

This choice was tantamount to a form of spiritual torture for him, but he knew clearly that it was the right thing to do and a responsibility he had to bear as a professor.

Lynch listened quietly, watching Hagrid's pained yet resolute expression, and the approval in his eyes became even more evident.

He nodded, not pressing for further details, and calmly announced, "You've passed, Hagrid. You truly understand the weight of responsibility. You can continue to teach the Magical Creatures Protection class."

After a brief moment of surprise, Harry, Ron, and Hermione finally breathed a sigh of relief and were genuinely happy for Hagrid.

They understood that Hagrid's painful decision and answer just now proved his growth and his competence as a professor more than any sophisticated security measures he had demonstrated.

He was no longer just a lover and exhibitor of magical creatures; he began to truly think like a protector.

After announcing that the test was passed, Lynch simply nodded to Harry and the other two as a greeting, then turned and left along the forest path he had come from, his tall figure quickly disappearing into the shadows of the trees.

The remaining four immediately erupted in a huge cheer—mainly Hagrid and Ron.

Hagrid was so excited he was incoherent, his huge hands slapping the three children on the back in turn, almost knocking them to the ground, repeatedly chanting, "I passed! Merlin! I passed! Thank you! Thank you—"

Harry, Ron, and Hermione were genuinely happy for him; all their previous worries and efforts had finally yielded a satisfactory result.

They celebrated for a while longer at Hagrid's cottage, had some tea, and Hagrid thoughtfully prepared a "modified" version of rock cakes. It wasn't until dusk that the three of them said goodbye to Hagrid, who was still immersed in joy, and set off on their way back to the castle.

Walking along the path gradually shrouded in twilight, Ron's excitement slowly subsided. He couldn't help but reminisce about the test he had just undergone. He clicked his tongue and exclaimed, "Merlin's beard—you mean Professor Lynch—oh, the one who hanged him," how could he ask such a question? Making Hagrid kill his beloved animal with his own hands? That was too—too cruel! It was like putting his heart on fire! Truly worthy of being—well—a person who lived through the Dark Ages." His tone was a mixture of lingering fear and awe at that almost cold-blooded decisiveness.

“Ron!” Hermione retorted immediately, her brow furrowing habitually, but this time her eyes held more contemplation than criticism. “You can’t think of it that way. It’s not a question of cruelty; it’s a classic, cleverly designed moral dilemma! It strips away all external conditions to get to the heart of the matter: in extreme circumstances, what does a professor prioritize? Personal feelings for living beings, or the inescapable responsibility for the safety of his students?”

As she walked, she analyzed rapidly, as if solving a complex logic puzzle: "Professor Lynch doesn't need to see how many safety measures Hagrid has implemented, or how many biological habits he's memorized. He only needs the answer to this one question to determine whether Hagrid has truly completed the mindset shift from 'magical creature enthusiast' to 'professor with a responsibility to protect.' Hagrid's answer just now, though painful, precisely proves that he understands the weight of this responsibility."

Harry listened silently to their argument, recalling Hagrid's pained yet ultimately resolute expression, and Uncle Lynch's barely perceptible smile upon hearing the answer.

He spoke softly, interrupting Ron and Hermione's discussion: "Hermione is right. That question was cruel, but perhaps—necessary. It forced Hagrid to confront the choice he feared most. And, as it turned out, Hagrid—did it."

Ron glanced at Harry, then at Hermione, and finally scratched his red hair, muttering in a conciliatory tone, "Fine, fine, maybe you're right. But anyway, I don't want to be tortured by him with those kinds of questions—" He shrank back, as if he could still feel the chill of the question.

The three of them stopped talking and walked side by side on the way back to the castle.

The afterglow of the setting sun stretched their shadows long, and it also blended the shock, struggle, and eventual relief of the day into the quiet twilight of Hogwarts.