Hogwarts Study Panel.

Chapter 627-625: The Vanished Moody

"Professor McGonagall!"

The shopkeeper witch strode out from behind the counter, wearing a pale purple robe and a measuring tape around her neck, her face beaming with smiles. "It's an honor—and this one—Mr. Green, come on, we're old acquaintances, don't be shy."

"He needs a formal robe. Fourth year. You know the dress code at Hogwarts: nothing fancy, nothing superfluous, just a good fit."

Minerva said.

"Fourth grade!"

The shopkeeper witch's eyes lit up. "This is the most crucial age. You're no longer a little boy, are you? Come on, young man, stand over here."

Sheen was led to stand on the fitting table. The table was raised slightly by half a foot, making him suddenly feel taller than usual.

In the full-length mirror directly opposite him, he saw himself wearing a silver cloak splashed with raindrops, his hair sticking up in a few strands because it was wet, and his face looking somewhat pale under the violet light.

"A long time has passed."

As Minerva spoke softly, two measuring tapes flew over at the same time. One began to measure Sheen's shoulder width, while the other wrapped around Sheen's arm.

They move nimbly, but when they touch him, they slightly reduce their force, as if afraid of hurting him.

Sheen stared at himself in the mirror, listening to the shopkeeper witch nagging behind him: "My shoulders are a quarter inch wider than last year's standard size. I have a good frame. My arms are long enough. I can choose the standard sleeve length. My waist is a bit thin. I need to tighten my waistline."

"color?"

The shopkeeper witch turned to Professor McGonagall, "Dark green and navy blue are the trending colors this year, but black is too dull for dear Sheen. I think we could consider dark emerald green, which would suit his eyes very well."

Or—we've just received a new burgundy fabric, very understated, but it glows with a warm, muted light under candlelight, perfect for the Hogwarts Christmas Ball.

"Dark green".

Minerva said in an uncompromising tone.

But after she finished speaking, she glanced at Sheen. That glance was brief and fleeting, yet it held a question mark within it.

"Dark green is very good."

Sheen said.

Professor McGonagall's lips twitched slightly.

It was hardly a smile, but her brow relaxed.

The rain is falling, a soft patter that makes one feel sleepy.

Minerva's gaze lingered as she watched the measuring tape move back and forth over the little wizard, and the shopkeeper witch chattering away enthusiastically, confirming details. Even the ticking of the clock seemed to be drawn out.

The shopkeeper witch left, but soon returned carrying several rolls of fabric.

She spread the fabric out in front of Sheen; the deep emerald green fabric did indeed look beautiful under the violet light.

It was a deeper color, closer to that of pine forests; the material was thick, but it felt very soft to the touch.

"This is it."

"Miller said, looking at Sheehan."

"This is it."

Sheen said.

While waiting for his alterations, Sheen stood by the window, looking out at Diagon Alley.

The rain never stopped; it was even heavier than when they arrived.

The Flourish and Blotts bookstore across the street was already closed, and the awning of Florin's Ice Cream Shop was being battered by the rain, with rainwater cascading down its edges like a small waterfall.

The street was almost deserted, except for a figure in a dark cloak who hurried past, splashing water everywhere.

Then he saw a wall.

Next to Gringotts, the wall that used to be covered with Quidditch World Cup posters has been replaced with a new notice.

The notices were printed by the Ministry of Magic on dark yellow paper, with the emblem of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement printed on the edge.

It was written in bold above:

Emergency Announcement

[Phantom teleportation is prohibited outdoors after dark.]

If you find anyone exhibiting symptoms of disorientation, please report them immediately to the nearest Auror office.

Do not attempt to save yourself.

Do not approach.

Repeat: Do not approach.

The notice didn't get wet in the rain, as if some kind of magic had been cast.

Waterproof spell?

Sheehan thought he had learned this magic in Mrs. Sprout's greenhouse.

"This year will be a bit tough for you."

Minerva said.

"What? Professor?"

Sheen asked cooperatively.

"Dumbledore didn't tell you, he forgot again."

Minerva frowned.

"Dear Mr. Green, your suit is ready."

The shopkeeper witch came over enthusiastically.

Magic is such a useful thing; the shopkeeper witch fiddled with it for a while, and the dress was finished.

At this moment, she was carrying a dark green evening gown in her hand.

The robe was neatly folded, wrapped in a layer of pale purple paper, and tied with a silver ribbon.

She handed the robe to Sheehan.

"Try it, darling."

she says.

Sheen took the robe and went into the fitting room.

As the curtain was drawn behind him, he heard Professor McGonagall and the shopkeeper witch talking outside.

"Oh, there's a ball, a Christmas ball, isn't it? Who will he choose? Oh dear, our dear Mr. Green, how exciting—"

"That's what I think too."

"Oh, this doesn't sound like you at all, Minerva. Tell me quickly, who is it? Take a picture of me, Minerva. I watched this child grow up. I made all his formal clothes—"

"I can take pictures, lots of pictures."

"Now you know this is a good thing, right? Back then, I advised you, 'It's so lonely being alone, raising a child, especially such a good child—'"

You talked too much today.

"Too much? Oh well, I'll sew my mouth shut then. After all, I'm a tailor too—"

Sheen put on the robe.

The material is very comfortable, and the size is just right.

He looked at himself in the small mirror on the curtain—his dark green suit looked calm and clean in the dim light, with a neat collar and straight shoulders.

The person in the mirror didn't look like the boy he remembered—the sickly, pale-faced boy with strong eyes.

Yes, the food at Hogwarts is really good.

He didn't reach out, but the curtain was magically drawn open.

Professor McGonagall was talking to the shopkeeper witch when she heard the curtain rustle and turned around.

The moment she saw him, the words caught in her throat; her lips moved, but no sound came out.

She stared at him for a long time, so long that the shopkeeper witch began to clear her throat uncomfortably, so long that a passing carriage outside splashed water onto the shop window and then flowed down.

"Oh my! What a handsome young gentleman!"

The shopkeeper witch quickly approached, extremely satisfied.

Minerva followed him over, and then she reached out and adjusted his collar.

The movements were very light and slow.

"very good."

She said her voice was a little lower than usual.

"It fits perfectly."

"Let's go."

She said her voice had returned to its usual crispness, "The rain has lessened a bit. We still need to send Severus a letter to tell him about the plans before school starts."

She paid, thanked the reluctant shopkeeper witch, and pushed open the shop door.

The bell on the door frame rang again, and a cold wind carrying fine rain rushed in, hitting the brim of her hat.

Come again when you have time!

"The shopkeeper witch said loudly, and as she watched Minerva grasp the little wizard's hand, a maternal smile appeared on her face."

She had been watching these two wizards, one big and one small, for three years. Sometimes a tailor knows the distance between the threads better than the two garments themselves.

"thank you."

Sheen paused as he walked down the steps and said.

The shopkeeper witch is one of the few wizards in the wizarding world who cares more about "Sheen" than "Mr. Grimm," and Sheen always feels that she has an extraordinary affinity for him.

The shopkeeper witch waved enthusiastically to Sheen before attending to another customer.

Under the rain, Minerva opened a black umbrella and glanced back at Sheen.

Sheen, carrying the bag of dark green dress, stepped under the umbrella.

The rain outside had indeed lessened a bit, but the sky had become even darker.

On the cobblestone streets of Diagon Alley, puddles reflected scattered lights.

They walked side by side in the rain.

Minerva walked quickly and steadily, her leather shoes making a crisp sound as she stepped into the puddles.

Sheen followed beside her, a head shorter and with smaller strides, but his pace matched hers.

Time at this moment becomes something soft and gentle, like a drizzle.

It's still raining.

But it was very dry under the umbrella.

The Hogwarts Express was already there, a deep red steam locomotive belching out thick smoke.

Looking through the thick smoke, the many Hogwarts students and parents on the platform appeared as dark, ghostly figures.

Hermione's owl heard the hooting of many owls in the smoke and chirped back, making an even louder noise than before.

Today is the first day of school at Hogwarts.

Seeing Professor McGonagall waving slightly at them, Hermione and Justin were able to face it calmly.

-

"The Auror that Grandpa Marcus mentioned,"

Hermione used a levitation charm to lift the box and asked, "Is he alright?"

After Marcus announced that Moody would be coming to the farm, Moody disappeared without a trace.

Even Marcus couldn't contact him, which made the group think more and more.

After all, there have been quite a few news reports of Aurors getting into trouble these days.

Almost every day, I could see Scrinker, the Auror's office director, giving a presentation.

"The Ministry of Magic is in complete chaos—"

Justin, carrying his suitcase, began looking for seats, and soon they had moved their luggage into a compartment on the train.

Then they jumped back onto the platform to say goodbye to Marcus.

On the platform, they also saw the Weasleys.

"I may see all of you soon."

Charlie Weasley hugged the little girl named Ginny, said goodbye to her, and smiled as he spoke.

Why?

Fred, who was beside him, asked eagerly.

"You'll find out," 6

Charlie said, "Don't tell Percy I mentioned this—you see, this is top secret information, and it can only be released when the Ministry of Magic deems it appropriate."

"Ah, I really hope I can go back to Hogwarts this year."

Bill Weasley said.

He had his hands in his pockets, his eyes fixed on the train, looking somewhat melancholy.

Why?

George asked impatiently.

"You're going to have a very interesting year."

Bill said, his eyes gleaming, "I might take a day off to watch part of it—"

"A part of what?"

Ron asked loudly.

But just then, the whistle blew, and Mrs. Weasley ushered them toward the carriage door.

"Thank you for letting me stay, Mrs. Weasley."

Harry said awkwardly.

They had already boarded the train and closed the doors. Harry leaned out of the window to talk to Mrs. Weasley.

"Thank you for everything you've done for me, Mrs. Weasley."

Harry said.

"Oh, I'd be happy to, darling,"

Mrs. Weasley said, "I would like to invite you to Christmas, but—I suppose you would all prefer to stay at Hogwarts for one reason or another."

"Mother!"

Ron said irritably, "What is it that all three of you know about, but you've been keeping it from us?"

1

"I reckon you'll figure it out tonight."

Mrs. Weasley smiled and said, "It's going to be very exciting—and I'm so glad they've amended the bylaws!"

"What regulations?"

Harry, Ron, Fred, and George asked at the same time.

"I'm sure Professor Dumbledore will tell you—well, behave yourselves, you hear me, Fred? And you, George?"

The engine pistons hissed loudly, and the train started moving.

"Tell us what happened at Hogwarts!"

Fred shouted out the window—Mrs. Weasley, Bill, and Charlie were speeding away—"What rules did they change?"

But Mrs. Weasley just smiled and waved at them.

Before the train could even turn the corner, she, Bill, and Charlie Apparated.

In another private room.

Hermione and Justin, who witnessed the whole thing, were completely baffled.

"What are they saying?"

Hermione looked at Sheehan expectantly, "Sheehan, do you know?"

Sheehan remembered what Professor McGonagall hadn't finished saying on the day she bought the dress, and thought that she shouldn't know about it at this point.

"How could you not know?!"

Seeing Sheehan hesitate and shake his head, Hermione and Justin said in unison.

"How would I know?"

Sheen was puzzled.

"You are—you are—a professor—"

Hermione stammered.

"Sheen, you really don't know?"

Justin asked hesitantly.

"Dumbledore will make the announcement at the dinner."

Sheen looked out the window and said.

He appeared to be staring at the glass window, but he was actually taking stock of his recent achievements.

Transfiguration is almost there; within a week, the borderlands will pave the way for his arrival.

Under Grindelwald's tutelage, Fiendfire Curse gradually approached perfection, and within two months, Sheen was able to touch that threshold.

For some reason, he thought of Professor McGonagall's smiling face in the Toucan clothing store and the scene of Professor Snape interrogating Buckman.

"Ireland has won! Cheng Hui, three thousand Galleons."

Snape stared at Buckman with a smile, not daring to even consider using goblin coins to pay off his debt.

The train sped along, its whooshing sound drowning out Hermione's joyful voice: "Headmaster Dumbledore?! He's back? He's finally back!"