A day at Hogwarts.

Chapter 655 The Man in the Shadows
A tall wizard in an Auror uniform burst from a hidden post, his wand pointed straight at Podmore, his robes fluttering as he moved.

Harry recognized him. Eric Munch, one of the Aurors. He had met him once before when he was taken to Azkaban and they had chatted about the weather. Now, his expression was extremely serious and highly vigilant, and his eyes were sharp.

Podmor seemed completely oblivious to the warning signal, or rather, the Imperius Curse's command overwhelmed everything.

He turned around numbly, and almost instinctively and stiffly raised his wand.

His eyes remained empty and unfocused, his pupils unfocused.

"Fainted!" Munch acted decisively, a beam of magical light shooting like an arrow through the dim air towards its target.

Podmore awkwardly waved his wand, barely managing to form an Ironclad Charm that deflected the attack, the light colliding and sending up scattered, blinding sparks.

Immediately afterwards, several beams of light of different colors rapidly crisscrossed and collided in the dimly lit corridor, emitting crackling and piercing hissing sounds.

Although Podmore's movements were swift, they lacked spirit, appearing rigid and repetitive, as if he were executing a pre-set, inflexible program.

Clearly, the Imperius Curse controlled his body but failed to grant him true combat wisdom and the ability to assess situations.

In less than five rounds, a perfectly accurate full-body binding spell struck him hard in the chest.

Podmore's body stiffened abruptly, then he fell straight backward like a chopped log, crashing heavily onto the cold ground with a dull thud and stirring up a speck of dust.

Munch cautiously stepped forward, his wand still pointed at Podmore lying on the ground, and kicked his wand, which had fallen to the ground, far away.

Soon, two other Aurors on duty who had heard the commotion arrived. They swiftly restrained Podmore, tied his hands behind his back, and quickly took him away from the scene.

The whole process was as fast as lightning; in less than a minute, the room returned to deathly silence, as if nothing had ever happened.

Just now, when Munch appeared, Harry hesitated for a moment before deciding to step out from the shadows and explain that Podmor had been hit by the Imperius Curse.

However, just as he made up his mind and was about to take action, a strong hand suddenly covered his mouth from behind.

The rough palm almost blocked his breath, while the other hand gripped his waist like an iron clamp, dragging him backward without any chance to resist.

A wave of overwhelming fear washed over Harry like ice water.

He smelled a strange medicinal odor from the hand covering his mouth, and immediately felt weak all over. He struggled in vain, twisting his body, but could not shake that powerful force.

He was quickly dragged into a slightly ajar door nearby. Munch, perhaps because his attention was entirely on Podmore, or for some other reason, failed to notice the strangeness of the situation.

The door closed gently behind Harry, but it didn't block out the light and sound from the corridor outside. Apart from the unsettling darkness and deathly silence that came through the crack in the door, there was also the buzzing of his own heavy, terrified breathing in his ears.

"Hush—" A very low sound, almost just the friction of air, rang in his ears, making him feel like a cold winter current.

The voice had a vague sense of familiarity, yet it was also strangely unsettling.

Harry's heart was pounding in his chest, almost bursting out of his chest.

He was forced to quiet down and watched through a tiny crack in the door as Podmor was roughly taken away by the Aurors, his figure disappearing into the darkness at the end of the corridor.

Helplessness and anger gripped his heart like two hands, and his stomach churned violently.

Only when complete silence returned outside did the hand covering his mouth slowly loosen, and the force gripping his waist also disappeared.

Harry whirled around, his lungs burning from the lack of oxygen, gasping for breath, his eyes wide, trying to see who was the person who had stopped him, and perhaps saved him. But there was nothing behind him.

The room's decor reminded him of Lady Patiffe's Tea Room in Hogsmeade, and the air was filled with a slightly sweet scent, like the smell of some shampoo invented by old Potter.

In the middle of the room, there is a small, still-operating fountain.

The fountain pool was not filled with clear water, but with a liquid that shimmered with a strange, mother-of-pearl-like luster, flowing slowly as if it were a living thing.

Warm steam swirled up from the shimmering medicinal liquid, spreading a unique and indescribable fragrance in the air—somewhat like shampoo, but upon closer inspection, it also resembled the broomstick of a crossbow bolt. The scent involuntarily relaxed the mind, yet also subtly evoked a strange sense of dizziness.

The entire room was filled with a sweet yet surreal atmosphere, as if time had stood still.

Harry suddenly shook his head, perked up, and got back to the main topic: finding the wizard who had just captured him.

But where is anyone now?
The person who had pulled him in vanished without a trace, as if they had never existed.

Only the mother-of-pearl liquid continued to flow silently and endlessly, with steam swirling around it.

Harry stood there, stunned for a few seconds, when a chill, deeper and more piercing than before, enveloped him, making him shudder.

He then realized that his back was completely soaked with cold sweat.

Harry dared not linger. He took a deep breath of the strangely scented air, forcibly suppressing the turmoil and fear surging within him. He gently pushed open the door, and after confirming that no one was outside, he quickly returned downstairs along the same path.

Every step was taken with extreme caution, as if stepping on a sharp knife tip, with ears on high alert, capturing any subtle sound.

When he returned to the relatively bright and bustling atrium, the sunlight streaming in from the magic windows above illuminated the busy crowds and the paper airplanes carrying messages flying in the air, which made him feel a little more grounded and his tense nerves relaxed slightly.

Just then, Moss Jeff walked towards us, his face serious, his brows furrowed, and his steps hurried and swift.

“Mr. Potter, where did you go just now?” Moss’s gaze swept over him quickly, with undisguised scrutiny, like a searchlight sweeping over his clothes and the slightly dusty shoes. “The Ministry of Magic just had a thief break in, and he was apprehended by the Department of Mysteries.”

"I heard they got into a fight and one of them was caught."

“Auror said there might be accomplices, and things aren’t peaceful yet. After you finish your assigned work, don’t wander off. Go back to Mr. Black as soon as possible.”

Harry's heart skipped a beat, but he tried to remain calm, nodded, and his Adam's apple bobbed involuntarily.

"I understand, Mr. Jeff."

"I...I'll be right there."

He responded in a low voice, his tone slightly dry.

However, the scenes that had just happened kept replaying uncontrollably in his mind.

Podmor's empty, lifeless eyes, the blinding flames during the clash of spells, the hand that appeared out of nowhere and vanished without a trace, and that eerie room filled with mother-of-pearl steam...

This weekend's "work-study" program was far more dangerous and unpredictable than he had imagined.

(End of this chapter)