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Chapter 175: Don't You Know How to Make a Tear?
🕑 Added 2025-06-01 12:37:52 +0000 UTCNoah sat in the Room of Requirement, dazed and unmoving for a long while, only snapping back to reality when students started arriving one after another.
Eventually, Evan couldn’t stand it anymore and shook Noah out of his trance. “Hey, snap out of it. You’re starting to look like a statue.”
Only then did Noah realize how ridiculous he must have looked—but he didn’t really care.
He glanced around at the younger witches and wizards who had already begun their training, then tilted his head and scanned the room until he spotted Harry.
Not far away, Harry was practicing spells with Ron. To be honest, Ron seemed to be in a much better mood now—surprising, considering the emotional wreck he was not long ago.
First, Professor Lupin had forcefully confiscated his pet rat. Then he found out Noah had sliced the rat in half using magic.
Of course, Ron understood the reason now—his “pet” was actually an Animagus.
Still, the rat had been with him for twelve years. It was natural to feel something.
But once Ron had time to think, he began noticing things he'd previously ignored or brushed off.
Like how the rat, Scabbers, had shown up right around the time Peter Pettigrew supposedly died. All the Aurors had found was a single finger—and Scabbers was missing the same finger.
And then there was the fact that Scabbers had lived twelve years. That’s absurdly long for a common rat. A normal rat wouldn’t last more than three or four years.
Having a functioning brain helped. As all the details clicked, Ron forced himself to push down his emotions.
What really disturbed him now was the fact that his parents never suspected anything. What was Pettigrew doing in their house all this time? It was terrifying to think about.
Because of this, Ron had personally gone to thank Professor Lupin—even if Lupin had been blunt and Scabbers had looked pitiful, he'd still saved their family.
After sorting through his thoughts, Ron finally bounced back. He looked more like his old self again. When he saw Noah walking toward them, he nodded at him gratefully.
“Sorry to interrupt,” Noah said casually, “but I need to talk to Harry for a minute.”
“Me?” Harry blinked, surprised, but nodded anyway and followed Noah out.
The walk was silent. Harry had no idea what this was about, and Noah’s distant look didn’t help.
Noah himself was just thinking about where best to have this conversation.
Eventually, they ended up in Noah’s room in Ravenclaw Tower. It was quiet, private—and with the others still training in the Room of Requirement, no one would disturb them.
“This’ll do,” Noah said as he sat on his bed, then casually tossed something small to Harry.
Harry caught it—some kind of old-looking key—and frowned. “What’s this?”
“I’ll get to that in a second,” Noah said seriously. “But first, you should know—your greatest enemy, the one who killed your parents, is about to be resurrected.”
“You mean Voldemort?” Harry asked, his tone tightening. “You’re sure?”
“Absolutely. Professor Dumbledore got solid intel—he’s preparing for it.”
“What? Why would he let that happen?!” Harry jumped up, panic rising in his voice.
But he paused when he saw Noah looking at him like he was an idiot.
That shut him up for a moment.
Harry sat back down slowly, brow furrowed, clearly trying to think through what Noah had just said.
He wasn't the same clueless kid he used to be. He’d grown smarter—and more cautious—over time.
After a long silence, he hesitated and then spoke. “Dumbledore wouldn’t let Voldemort come back without a reason... Is he trying to draw the Death Eaters out?”
“Exactly,” Noah nodded. “Not quite the whole picture, but you’re close.”
Harry listened carefully as Noah explained Dumbledore’s plan. The more he heard, the wider his eyes got.
Especially when Noah said Dumbledore might resign as Headmaster to become Minister of Magic in order to stabilize the wizarding world.
“Wait—he’s leaving Hogwarts?” Harry asked, stunned.
“Mm-hmm.” Noah shrugged. “He thinks he’ll do more good at the Ministry.”
“Then… who’s going to be the next Headmaster?”
“Professor Snape… or Professor McGonagall.”
Harry visibly paled at the first name. “Please tell me it’s McGonagall...”
Noah chuckled. “Relax. Most likely, it will be McGonagall. Snape isn’t that interested—he wants more time to focus on his daughter.”
Harry exhaled in relief. “Good. Why would Snape even be a candidate? He’s a Slytherin—and a former Death Eater!”
“Because Dumbledore trusts him more than anyone.”
Harry scowled. “I’m just worried he’s being fooled. Snape was one of them, after all.”
Noah didn’t blame him for feeling that way. Snape was notoriously biased toward Slytherin students. With the exception of Noah and his close group, Snape was still pretty cold to everyone else—even Ravenclaws.
As for Harry? The Potions classroom might as well have had a bullseye on his back.
Even after joining Noah’s “Mage Union,” Harry still got targeted. Just less harshly.
But Snape had his reasons. He had to maintain the facade of a loyal Slytherin. He couldn’t let Voldemort doubt him—not if he wanted to keep feeding Dumbledore intel.
Noah sighed, then decided it was time to push Harry’s thinking.
“Let me ask you something,” he said. “If the person you loved most was murdered by someone you once trusted… and that murderer had a powerful enemy… what would you do to get revenge?”
Harry frowned. “Why are you asking that?”
“Just answer.”
Harry thought for a moment. “I guess… I’d pretend to stay close to the one who killed them. I’d fake loyalty—wait for the right moment.”
“Sorry,” Noah said bluntly, “that guy doesn’t trust anyone. To him, everyone’s just a servant.”
“Then I don’t know… What are you getting at?”
“It’s a story,” Noah said. “Someone did that. He joined the mortal enemy of the one he once served. But to maintain cover, he kept feeding his old master useless bits of info—just enough to keep the act going. Meanwhile, he sent everything important to the other side.”
Harry stared, trying to connect the dots.
“And now,” Noah continued, “that man sees the child of the woman he loved—same eyes. That boy was responsible for the death of the man he once served. So now… what does he do?”
Noah stopped. Let the silence speak for itself.
Harry sat frozen, deep in thought. His expression flickered—shock, confusion, realization, doubt.
Finally, he looked up. “How do I even know that story’s true?”
“You don’t,” Noah said, smiling faintly. “It’s just a story. Believe what you want.”
He pointed to the object in Harry’s hand.
“Oh, and that key? It’s a Portkey. Don’t activate it with your magic yet. Got it?”
“I got it… But, Noah—”
“Don’t be stupid, Potter,” Noah interrupted. “You’ve been studying Potions for years—don’t tell me you don’t know how to make someone cry.”
“Tears? That’s easy,” Harry said, blinking. “But… I’m worried Professor Snape won’t fall for it. And what exactly are we going to do once I get it?”
“Ever heard of a Pensieve, genius? Don’t tell me you don’t know what that is.”
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