Chapter 97: Familiar Smell

Eda was never one to procrastinate.

As soon as she returned from Hogsmeade, she buried herself in the library, determined to find everything she could about the village.

Hogsmeade, a village composed entirely of witches and wizards, had a long and storied history.

Its first resident was Hengist, who settled there during a time when Muggles, fearful of magic, conducted centuries-long witch hunts, ruthlessly persecuting wizards and those associated with them.

While some wizards faced Muggle punishments without fear—some even treating it as a challenge—many lost their lives under the brutal persecution. Hengist came to Hogsmeade seeking refuge, to escape the cruelty of Muggles. Over time, more and more witches and wizards settled there, gradually forming a community that eventually became the Hogsmeade Village known today.

One of the most notable events in Hogsmeade's history was the Goblin Rebellion of 1612, during which a tavern in the village served as the headquarters for the movement.

The Goblin Rebellion was one of a series of uprisings organized by goblins to protest against the discrimination and prejudice they faced from wizards. Such incidents were common during the 17th and 18th centuries. Even today, many radical goblins continue to oppose the Ministry of Magic's policies, demanding equal rights.

Eda spent days scouring countless resources in the library. From Historical Sites in Magical History to Hogwarts: A History, and many other books, she could find no records of the Shrieking Shack.

The legend seemed more like a tale passed down through word of mouth among the villagers.

Unable to find anything in the books, Eda turned to people for answers.

She asked numerous older students she had befriended in the library, as well as Professor Glover, but still came up empty-handed.

If the living can't help, then talk to the dead. Eda sought out Gryffindor's house ghost, Sir Nicholas de Mimsy-Porpington. When she found him, he was gazing at the portrait of Anne Boleyn hanging in the castle.

Having been a ghost for centuries, Sir Nicholas gave Eda a vague answer: the legend of the Shrieking Shack had not been around for very long—perhaps a few decades, or at most a hundred years.

As a "living" ghost, there wasn't much Eda expected him to remember accurately, apart from his own Deathday.

There were few events he could recall in precise detail. Stories passed down orally, like the tale of the Shrieking Shack, often veered further from the truth as they spread.

Still, the timeframe Sir Nicholas provided was helpful. At least now Eda wouldn't have to search aimlessly through the library's vast archives.

While Eda spent her days poring over books, December arrived at Hogwarts.

The cold, damp air gnawed at the students' bodies and souls every morning, making it exceedingly difficult to get out of bed.

One sunny afternoon, Eda decided to take a break from the library and go for a walk.

The thick snow crunched beneath her boots with a satisfying "crunch, crunch."

Bathed in sunlight, Eda strolled leisurely to the Black Lake. The towering mountains and the expansive lake always had a way of drawing her in.

The cold weather had driven away most of the couples who usually lingered by the lake, leaving it quiet and serene—perfect for Eda to clear her mind. The distant snow-capped peaks stood like wise old men with white hair, silently watching over her. What Eda didn't know, however, was that nearby, a real white-haired figure was watching her.

"Twist, no books with you today?"

Professor Glover Cecile approached, hands clasped behind his back. His face was pale, making him appear as if he were unwell.

Glover Cecile had always been kind to Eda, but he never used her nickname. In fact, he never even called her Esmeralda. Instead, he consistently referred to her by her surname.

"Wearing gloves makes flipping through books inconvenient," Eda replied, shaking her gloved hands. The gloves were thick, part of a set that had been sent to her along with earmuffs.

"Even when I was a student, I disliked the weather here. And as I've aged, I've come to detest it even more," Professor Cecile said, standing next to Eda with an unmistakable tone of disdain in his voice.

"Professor, you don't look well. Are you feeling unwell?" Eda asked as she observed him. His face was as pale as a sheet of paper, almost frightening in its pallor.

Cecile touched his face briefly, then chuckled. "Is it that bad? When you grow old, all sorts of ailments catch up to you. No matter how powerful your magic may be, it's no match for the passage of time."

"Time has the power to foster growth and the power to bring decline. It can be both a teacher and an enemy."

The weight of his words made the atmosphere heavy. Neither spoke for a moment. Cecile eventually reached into his robes and pulled out a small flask. He unscrewed the lid and took a sip, his entire face scrunching up as if the contents were particularly unpleasant.

"By the way, have you found any information about the Shrieking Shack?" Cecile's complexion seemed rosier after his drink, his energy restored, and even his voice sounded stronger.

Eda wasn't sure what Cecile was drinking, but she caught a familiar scent.

'Was that... '

Considering the cold weather and being outdoors, she reasoned that she must have imagined it.

"I've heard so many versions of ghost stories—there's just about everything imaginable. At this point, no one knows more about the rumors surrounding the Shrieking Shack than I do," Eda replied. "But they're all just rumors, without much credibility."

"Our world is full of all kinds of strange tales. Some are completely false, while others are half-truths," Cecile said. "Our job is to eliminate the falsehoods and, from the half-truths, extract the facts and uncover the truth."

It sounded almost like detective work. For a moment, Eda had an illusion that she wasn't by the Black Lake at Hogwarts but instead on Baker Street in London.

"It's a fascinating process, sometimes even more enjoyable than discovering the truth itself."

Eda didn't entirely agree with Cecile's perspective. She preferred results over processes. If given the choice, she would rather reap the rewards than put in the effort to seek them out herself.

While the twins were reliable in many areas, this task was far too challenging for them. Eda knew she could only rely on herself.

"I still prefer results for now. The process of searching is always so exhausting," Eda admitted. "Like this time—I've found nothing but baseless rumors. If I want to know the truth, I'll have to go there myself."

Cecile didn't respond.

Instead, he drew his wand and pointed it at the Black Lake.

A thick beam of dark light shot from the tip, heading straight for the lake's surface.

The frozen surface and accumulated snow shattered under the spell, sending a spray of water shooting two or three stories high. Yet, not a single drop splashed onto the pair standing on the shore.

Eda didn't notice Cecile's rapidly paling face. She was too stunned by the power of the spell, filled with admiration for his control over magic. She couldn't help but wonder when she might ever reach that level herself.

"When you can do something like this, the results will come to you on their own," Cecile said, taking another sip from his small flask. He continued, "By then, you'll understand the joy of the process, because you'll have lost it."

With that, Cecile slowly left the Black Lake. His steps were sluggish, each one seeming to require a great deal of effort. His hunched figure made him look more like a frail old man than an unforgivable Dark wizard.

Eda watched his retreating back, her sense of mystery growing deeper. The contents of that small flask emitted a scent she found familiar—a scent that reminded her of Snape's dimly lit office.

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