Hans had always been a good-natured person.
He was also the Unspeakable in the German Ministry of Magic who least resembled an Unspeakable. He never acted as aloof as his colleagues and maintained good relationships with people outside the Department of Mysteries.
He enjoyed making friends and seemed like someone who could share a couple of drinks with anyone at a pub.
However, when it came to his work within the Department of Mysteries, Hans always remained silent.
His friends were tactful enough never to ask questions that were guaranteed to go unanswered and cause awkwardness.
The working hours of Unspeakables were never fixed, which was clearly unconventional in the rule-abiding, rigid and serious German wizarding world.
However, the uniqueness of the Department of Mysteries was self-evident.
Every Wizard known as an Unspeakable studied the strangest and most mysterious things in the wizarding world, making even the illogical seem logical.
One o'clock in the morning was when Hans began his shift.
Unlike his predecessor in the position, a little girl who wore a blindfold and could remain in the Department of Mysteries at all times, he was different.
He had a family of his own, so he was always punctual for work, never arriving late. He would even stay an extra half-minute in the Department of Mysteries after his shift ended.
Hans entered the tower-like Department of Mysteries within the German Ministry of Magic. Its offices were separate from those of the Ministry's regular departments.
That solitary tower, rising like a pillar out of nowhere, had never been discovered by Muggles.
He ascended the spiral staircase inside the tall tower. The colleagues he encountered along the way stopped to greet him, and he responded to each of them calmly.
It wasn't until he reached the thirteenth floor, a level designated for a specific purpose, that he stopped.
His previously gentle and calm gaze suddenly turned cold and gloomy, as though he had become an entirely different person.
The tower did not appear particularly large from the outside, but its interior was far more spacious than it seemed. Hans walked deeper into the thirteenth floor, eventually arriving at a room completely filled with white light.
The entire floor served as Hans' office, but in reality, he was responsible for only one thing.
On the other side of the room, which was always as bright as day, stood a separate enclosure partitioned off by glass. It might even have been called a cell.
The cell contained no heinous criminals. It was empty except for a scarecrow dressed in tattered robes, holding an old kerosene lamp in one hand and a rusty sickle in the other.
At first glance, the scarecrow looked ordinary, like a poorly made figure hastily woven together by a farmer. Yet whenever Hans had seen it in the past, he had felt a chill run down his spine.
This time, however, he did not look away. Instead, he fixed his numb, hollow eyes on the recessed areas of the scarecrow's face where its eyes should have been.
"I know you are unwilling."
A cold, merciless voice, completely unlike Hans' usual tone, echoed through the room.
"That person shattered your hopes of returning to your former glory. You want revenge on him, and you want to escape again."
"In this regard, our goals are the same. Therefore, my Master wishes to make a deal with you."
"Hans" bent down and gently placed a dusty crown, stained with brownish-red blood, on the floor.
"We can help you eliminate your final weakness. However, before you kill that person, you must bring him to meet my Master."
Once he had finished speaking, the room fell silent again.
The scarecrow enclosed within the glass case remained motionless. Apart from its increasingly terrifying appearance, it seemed no different from the scarecrows used to keep pests away from fields.
Having said everything he needed to say and left the crown behind, "Hans" did not linger. He turned and left the room immediately.
After he departed, the white lights illuminating the room suddenly went out!
The pitch-black space remained silent for a while, but soon a creaking sound, like wood rubbing against wood, rang out.
Two streaks of crimson light slowly illuminated the darkness, and a hoarse, roaring voice echoed through the deathly silence.
"Fidd—tick—! Ten Evils—Unforgivable—!"
...
Hermione eagerly anticipated the new semester's Arithmancy lessons.
Ever since attending Trelawney's confusing Divination classes, where predictions relied entirely on guesswork and prophecies seemed to be nothing but curses, she had grown increasingly fond of the rational approach of Arithmancy.
This was especially true because Hilke would be teaching the subject that semester. Although Hermione had had little contact with Hilke and had only met her once, they had barely exchanged a few words.
Still, she felt that since Hilke was acquainted with someone as knowledgeable as Sherlock, Miss Hilke's teaching standards couldn't be bad either.
The results proved her right.
Hilke had prepared thoroughly for her lessons. Given her previously cold personality, she would not have been particularly suited to teaching, as she would barely have interacted with her students.
However, after "reuniting" with Sherlock, she had changed considerably and was becoming more like an ordinary girl.
In terms of theoretical knowledge and practical application, Hilke, having spent more than a decade in the German Department of Mysteries, could easily surpass most academically trained Diviners. Combined with her occasional interactions with the students, this made her first lesson a great success.
The handful of young Wizards in the fourth year who had chosen Arithmancy all openly declared that they had enjoyed the lesson.
Meanwhile, the observant Hermione quickly noticed the vial of Felix Felicis hanging around Hilke's neck. She had seen the same item on Sherlock before.
It wasn't difficult for her to guess that Professor Cavendish had given it to Hilke.
As soon as the lesson ended, Hermione went to find Harry and Ron, who were emerging from the Divination classroom looking thoroughly miserable.
Clearly, their lesson had not gone well.
"Miss Hilke's class is brilliant, much more interesting than the lessons Professor Victor taught before."
Hearing Hermione's praise, Harry and Ron's expressions grew even more miserable. Before either could reply, a heavy snort came from nearby.
Professor Trelawney, wearing glasses and possessing a slender frame, walked past them with a stern expression. She already had a strained relationship with Hermione, so hearing such remarks naturally displeased her.
Only after Trelawney had walked some distance away did Ron whisper,
"She made us draw star charts for the entire lesson and even got Harry's time of birth wrong. Both lessons were terrible."