I'm the King of Curry at Hogwarts

Chapter 181 A Traitor Emerged

Harry was, after all, a young and impetuous man. In his eyes, Black, who had killed thirteen people with a single spell, was no different from Voldemort.

It's basically saying, "I'm not even afraid of Voldemort, so why would I be afraid of you, Black, one of Voldemort's underlings?"

After tossing and turning until midnight, Harry finally knocked on Louise's door.

Looking at Louise, whose eyes were bloodshot, Harry seemed to understand a law.

When you want to kill someone, you can't hide it in your eyes.

Hearing Harry's stupid question, Louise wished she could turn him into a mouse and make him play with Scabbers.

"You were able to defeat the Crystal Elder under a curse, so why would you be afraid of a mere Sirius Black?" Louis looked at Harry as if he were an idiot.

"Oh... Oh!" Harry nodded, seemingly understanding.

In the end, under Louis's murderous gaze, he turned and went back to his house.

The next morning, Tom woke Harry as usual with his toothless smile and a cup of tea. After a simple breakfast, the group went to King's Cross Station.

After putting their luggage away, the children got out of the car to say goodbye to the Weasleys. Mrs. Weasley kissed each of her children goodbye, then Hermione and Catherine, and finally Harry and Lewis. She even gave Harry a special hug.

It was clear that Harry was a little embarrassed, but genuinely happy.

"Be careful, Harry," she said earnestly as she straightened up, her eyes unusually bright. Then she opened her enormous handbag and handed it to Louis: "I made sandwiches for each of you. You can share them with each other once you get on the train."

"Okay, Aunt Molly." Louise took the sandwich.

Mr. Weasley then came over and called Harry aside.

"Harry, you must be terrified," he whispered.

"No," Harry said sincerely, "really." He added, because Mr. Weasley didn't seem to quite believe him.

“I’m not one to show off, Mr. Weasley.” Harry paused for a moment, then continued, “But Sirius Black, he can’t possibly be more capable than Voldemort, can he? – Surely not?”

Mr. Weasley visibly flinched upon hearing Voldemort's name.

He quickly overcame this feeling, patted Harry on the shoulder, and said earnestly, "Harry, I know you are, well, stronger than Fudge imagines, even stronger than Fudge himself..."

Fudge: Don't mention it, I'm very strong.

"I'm glad you weren't scared, but..."

"Arthur! What are you doing? It's time to go!" Mrs. Weasley urged.

"He's here, Molly!" Mr. Weasley called back, then turned to his ear and said urgently, "Listen, Harry, I need you to promise—"

"Promise me you'll behave and stay inside the castle?" Harry's expression was a little displeased, and he looked rebellious.

"Not entirely." Mr. Weasley paused for a moment, then adopted a serious expression. "Harry, you must promise me you won't go looking for Black..."

Harry's rebellious streak kicked in again, but before he could say anything, Mrs. Weasley rushed over, glared at Mr. Weasley, and shoved Harry into the car.

For some reason, there were hardly any people in this carriage, just a few of them and a stranger wearing an extremely tattered robe, who was slumped in his seat and fast asleep. The tattered robe, with several patches, covered his face, making it impossible to see his features, but his hair, which was exposed, was mixed with a lot of white hair, making him look rather pitiful.

"Who is he?" Ron asked in a low voice. They sat down, closed the door, and tried to sit as far away from the car window as possible.

"Professor R.J. Lupin," Hermione whispered in reply.

"How did you know?" Ron asked in surprise. How could his girlfriend know everything?

"If your eyesight were a little better, you might have seen his name written on his suitcase by chance," Catherine replied, pointing to the overhead luggage rack where a worn-out little suitcase was tied with many old, tattered ropes, neatly knotted, with the words "R.J. Lupin" printed on one corner of the suitcase, the letters already peeled off.

When it comes to name abbreviations, the rules in the UK and the US are completely different. The British prefer to abbreviate both the first name and middle name together, such as J.K. Rowling and R.J. Lupin; but the Americans prefer to only abbreviate the middle name, such as Dwight D. Eisenhower and Harry S. Truman.

"I wonder what he'll teach everyone," Ron muttered to himself, frowning at Professor Lupin's desolate profile.

Although Ron had never heard of Lupin's story, Professor Lupin's weathered hair seemed to tell a story.

Louis said casually, "Is that even a question? It's definitely Defense Against the Dark Arts. You can't expect Professor Snape to teach all the other years, can you? What about Potions?"

"Besides..." Louis trailed off, then added in a low voice, "Aren't you worried that Snape will drive the other students in the same grades crazy?"

"But they don't seem to go crazy in Potions class..." Ron said, bewildered.

Louis looked at him with a naive and simple-minded expression: "You're really naive, so simple-minded. One class is already torture enough, imagine having two big classes with Professor Snape every week, do you think you can handle it?"

Ron looked up, trying to imagine the scene Louis had described, and involuntarily shivered.

That's terrifying. In comparison, Louis is truly the savior of Hogwarts.

"I've heard that Professor Lupin is quite accomplished, and I just happened to hear from my mother that he and your father have a very good relationship," Catherine said to Harry, glancing down at Lupin.

"My father...?" Harry asked hesitantly. He could see the tuft of hair on Professor Lupin's head, which made him look quite old.

He bluntly stated, "They don't look like their age at all."

"Just ask him when he wakes up." Ron shrugged, then, remembering what happened before getting into the car, he asked curiously, "By the way, Harry, what did my dad want when he stopped you?"

Harry recounted the Weasleys' argument and Mr. Weasley's warning to everyone. After he finished, Ron looked as if he had been struck by lightning, while Hermione covered her mouth with her hands. Finally, she lowered her hands and said, "Sirius Black ran away to hunt you down? Oh my god, Harry, you have to be very careful... very careful, Harry, don't go looking for trouble."

"When did I ever ask for trouble!" Harry snapped, glaring at Hermione with resentment. "When did I ever ask for trouble? Do I look like someone who likes to ask for trouble?"

"It doesn't seem like it," Louis chimed in.

"Exactly," Catherine added confidently.

Harry watched the couple, furious but unable to speak out. If it were Louis, it would be fine, but the problem was that Catherine might not be so accommodating. If he really angered her, even if Louis tried to stop him, he'd probably get a good taste of being hung upside down today.

"But..." Ron trembled, forgetting even to chew his gummy, "How stupid would Harry be to go looking for a madman who wants to kill him?"

Their reaction to the news was far more serious than Harry himself had anticipated; Hermione and Ron both seemed quite afraid of Black.

"Hard to say," Louis muttered to Catherine from the side.

Ron chuckled, then quickly suppressed it, adopting a serious expression as he whispered, "But then again, I've never heard of anyone escaping from a heavily guarded prison like Azkaban, especially a top-prisoner like him. Shouldn't prisoners like him be under tight security?"

"There are no absolutely secure prisons in the world, Ron," Louis said with a smile. "Even Scrab Prison, which is known as the most secure prison in our country, can't prevent people from escaping, can it?"

But what Louis didn't say was that Scrab Prison has always been known as the most secure, but only God knows what it's really like.

There's an old European saying that goes, "What is heaven? Heaven is the British police, the German laborers, and the French cooks."

What is hell? Hell is the cooks of England, the policemen of Germany, and the laborers of France.

As for why? Those who know, know. Even if you don't know the others, you should know what kind of people are British chefs.

"Even if he escapes, he'll be caught quickly. The Ministry of Magic has issued such a huge warrant, it's even been reported in the Muggle news..." Hermione said, frowning. "I heard about it when I was watching TV in France. Think about it, it's Muggle news... They must have a way."

"The solution isn't really our problem," Ron said, shrugging and tilting his head to listen. "Have you heard any strange noises?"

"What's that sound?" Harry asked blankly. He had been so focused on the fact that the men were going to fight that he hadn't noticed anything strange.

Louis heard him and pointed to the suitcase on the luggage rack, saying, "Here, your suitcase."

Ron stood up and reached for a suitcase on the luggage rack. A moment later, he took out a miniature viewing mirror from the suitcase. It spun rapidly in Ron's palm and shone brightly.

"They say you get what you pay for, and I've certainly seen it for myself," Ron complained. "It's been like this ever since I tied it to Errol's leg, acting crazy and never stopping. The seller told me that as long as there are untrustworthy people around, it'll stay like this... Look around here, who's untrustworthy?"

The group exchanged glances, then Catherine turned and stared intently at Louis.

Then, following Catherine's gaze, everyone turned their attention to Louis.

"Hey, what are you all looking at me for?" Louis snapped. "Do I really look that much like a mole?"

There is a traitor among us!

"That makes sense." Hermione narrowed her eyes and chuckled. "I knew it was you! Humph, how many times have you tricked us in the Mirror World? I still remember how I felt when the mimic was swallowed whole!"

She does hold a grudge to some extent.

"How could that be? Louis was just joking." Ron quickly denied it: "The seller's distrust I mentioned probably wasn't referring to this kind of joke, was it?"

Actually, his tone was somewhat uncertain; he was just trying to smooth things over for Louis.

"I'm so heartbroken. It's one thing for you all to misunderstand me, but even Casey misunderstands me." Louis deliberately feigned a pitiful look, sighing to the sky, "Oh well, oh well..."

"Silly boy..." Catherine smiled gently, reaching out to ruffle Louis's soft hair.

Ron found the spyglass too noisy, so they discussed it, and Harry took out the thick stocking that Mr. Dursley had given him and stuffed the spyglass inside, which stopped the buzzing sound.

The mention of thick stockings reminded Harry of Uncle Vernon, and then of the autograph sheet: "When we get back to school, let's go to Hogsmeade. Uncle Vernon finally signed that autograph sheet for me..."

Ron immediately said, "Then we're going to have a lot of fun! Hogsmeade is the only magical village in Britain without Muggles, you know? I really want to go to Honeydukes's sweet shop, ah... Merlin's stockings..."

Ron was still lost in his daydreams when Hermione interrupted him with an unhappy expression.

"Ron! I don't think Harry should leave the school and Dumbledore's protection while Black is at large—"

Ron, with an air of fearlessness, said, "But if he's with us, Blake wouldn't dare—"

"Stop talking nonsense, Ron!" Hermione snapped. "Black has already killed so many people in the crowded streets. Do you really think the few of us can stop this deranged serial killer?"

"Isn't there Louis too?" Ron said nonchalantly.

But when he looked at Louis expectantly, he saw Louis give a shy smile.

"Sorry, I'm planning to spend some time alone with Cathy."

Ron hesitated, then pouted and said reluctantly, "Okay, I guess that spyglass really wasn't lying to me; Louis really can't be trusted!"

"You've found out a little too late, Ron," Louis said with a nonchalant smile, his arm around Catherine's slender waist.

The Hogwarts Express traveled steadily northward, leaving behind the season that included you, and the scenery outside the window became increasingly wild. The dark clouds overhead grew thicker and thicker, and under their cover, the sky grew ever darker, gloomy as if a storm was brewing.

Outside their carriage, people were constantly walking back and forth, making quite a racket. Harry's carriage was a bit crowded; it was fine for chatting, but not really suitable for resting, so Louise and Catherine returned to their own carriage, intending to take a short nap to pass the time.

(End of this chapter)