The Return to Hogwarts

"Since our great Headmaster Dumbledore couldn't stop the Ministry of Magic from planting Dementors around the school before, and this could have been handled by him and Fudge, why is he now giving Fudge's letter to Minerva and asking her to arrange a meeting between you and Fudge? Can't you see, Amosta, that Dumbledore wants to push you out?"

I think this kind of thing will probably happen more and more often in the future. Dumbledore is probably planning to make you the conduit between Hogwarts and the Ministry of Magic, so he won't offend anyone.

Amosta clenched his fists behind his back, his tone quite wistful.

"You must have suffered a lot at Dumbledore's hands to understand 'it' so well, Professor."

Snape didn't point out Amosta's word choice error. He looked down at the paper on the drug on the table, his ink-stained quill hovering in mid-air, hesitant to strike. After a long pause, he finally spoke angrily to Amosta.

“Ever since you punished Draco by making him clean the owl shed, Draco’s grades have plummeted. Look at this pile of garbage, Amostella, I almost thought this was Longbottom’s homework!”

Punish Draco?

Upon hearing this, Amosta walked over, glanced at the paper on the table, and also showed a look of disgust. However, punishing Draco by making him clean the shack was...

Oh, Amosta has figured it out. It seems the Slytherin kids are blaming Draco for losing the game, so they're ganging up on him.

“I’ve always felt that the kids in our academy are a bit too heartless,” Amostella said, clicking her tongue. “Should I go and appease Draco?”

“You know Slytherin, Amostella,”

Professor Snape stuck the quill into the inkwell and said coldly,

"He can only get out of his current predicament on his own. If you intervene, his situation will only get worse."

Chapter 224 Next Year's Activities

The first day of December was a weekend. Amosta drew back the curtains and found that the drizzle that had been falling for almost half a month had finally stopped. The sky suddenly cleared and turned a bright eggshell color. At the same time, the temperature dropped sharply, and the muddy ground was covered with frost.

Because it was the weekend at Hogsmeade, there weren't many people in the Great Hall. And the first snow of '93 fell quietly while I was having breakfast in Amostall.

"Harry and I agreed to practice the Patronus Charm for a while this afternoon—"

At the faculty and staff dining table, which was also nearly empty, Lupin asked Amosta, "Would you like to come and visit?"

"today?"

Amosta frowned and muttered something.

"Harry didn't go to Hogsmeade with his friends?"

“He didn’t get the guardian’s signed permission.” A shadow crossed Lupin’s eyes, but he quickly smiled and said,

“I’m using a Boggart to teach Harry the spell, and it’s making some progress. Based on his progress, I think Harry has a good chance of mastering the Patronus Charm by the end of this school year.”

It's astonishing that a third-year wizard could grasp the edge of a profound white magic like the Patronus Charm after just a few practices, but Amosta wasn't particularly surprised. As he had said before, the protagonist always has some kind of halo.

"No, Remus—"

Amosta put down his silver spoon, rubbed his hands together, and said...

"I'm going to Hogsmeade this afternoon with Professor McGonagall and Professor Flitwick to discuss the Dementors with the Minister of Magic."

Lupin had obviously heard about this as well, and after nodding, he said nothing more.

All morning, Amosta didn't go out again. Instead, he stayed in his warm office reading books and newspapers, drinking tea, and occasionally standing up to look out at the quiet world outside the window.

"Why--"

Gazing at the snow-covered playground, Amosta yawned contentedly and muttered something.

Why do I feel like I've already entered retirement life ahead of schedule?

In fact, this was not Amosta's illusion. Upon careful consideration, considering the years he had accumulated in both his past and present lives, Amosta was indeed only a few years away from retirement. Moreover, with the new dormitory building at the orphanage completed and his magical abilities having passed the stage of rapid advancement and entered the stage of gradual, persistent growth, the tranquil campus atmosphere of Hogwarts had indeed made Amosta feel rather lazy lately.

"Get your act together, Mr. Blake—"

Feeling that time was almost up, Amostella changed his robes and said with dissatisfaction,

"Just because you failed once, does that mean you should give up?"

When Amos returned to the foyer, Professor McGonagall and Professor Flitwick had already been waiting there for a while. Amos helped them down the slippery, luxurious marble steps and walked along the stone path, the outline of which was barely visible, toward the school gate.

On the lawn near Black Lake, Ginny, Colin, and some younger wizards were having a snowball fight, their cheerful laughter brightening the tranquil world.

The three of them walked a little further when Amosta, with his sharp eyes, spotted Hagrid dragging a huge fir tree toward his cabin. Amosta blinked, realizing that Christmas was just around the corner.

"Hey, Hagrid!"

Amostella waved her arms at Hagrid and called out, "Want to come to Hogsmeade for a couple of drinks?"

"Oh, I couldn't be happier!"

Hagrid, whose mole-skin coat was already covered with a thick layer of snow, roared with joy when he realized who was calling him.

Hogsmeade was already getting festive; the thatched cottages and shops were covered with a layer of freshly fallen snow, holly wreaths hung on the doors, and strings of enchanted candles adorned the trees.

Besides the Hogwarts students, local natives and children not yet of school age also roamed the bustling streets, and the entire ancient village was immersed in joy.

Cornelius Fudge, the powerful Minister of Magic, stood shivering under the unlit Christmas tree, wrapped in a pinstripe cloak. But when he saw the four Hogwarts students approaching, his chubby, blue face immediately flushed red.

"It's been a while, hasn't it?"

"That's true--"

Amosta quickened his pace and walked up to Fudge, shaking his outstretched hand with a smile.

"How have things been lately, Minister?"

"Don't mention it!"

Cornelius Fudge was about to complain, but a gust of cold wind blew by, and Professor McGonagall, thin and not resistant to the cold, immediately interrupted him.

"Let's talk about this somewhere else, Connelly, unless you want us to freeze to death out here together."

A group of people walked past the post office and Joko's joke shop toward the Three Broomsticks bar. Along the way, many students who spotted them greeted them, and many indigenous people recognized the Minister of Magic, who would bow respectfully to Fudge.

"Oh--"

After dismissing a few villagers, Fudge said happily, "It seems they're enjoying their peaceful life, aren't they?"

"You're right, Minister—"

The honest Hagrid said frankly, "Ever since Professor Blaine imprisoned the Dementors that were wandering around the area, the villagers' enthusiasm for life has increased dramatically!"

Cough!

Fudge was immediately speechless with embarrassment. Amostah gave Hagrid an approving look and then helped Professor McGonagall, whose shoulders were shaking incessantly.

Regardless, apart from Hogwarts, a training ground for military elites in the magical world, the title of Minister of Magic still carries considerable prestige elsewhere. As the group pushed open the door of the Three Broomsticks pub, Mrs. Rosmerta, who had been busy running around, immediately dropped her waiter and walked over with a charming and alluring air.

"What brings you to this remote place, Minister?"

Mrs. Rosmerta directed a few people to sit in a 'private room' enclosed by a wooden fence and asked with great interest.

"There are a few things to attend to. Let's get some drinks first, darling."

Fudge glanced at the smiling, silent young man opposite him and stammered.

Everyone ordered alcoholic drinks for themselves, except for Amosta, who usually wouldn't choose to get himself drunk outside of mealtimes.

“Just a cup of green tea will do,” Amosta said to Mrs. Rosmerta.

Mrs. Rosmerta had clearly let them cut in line; within two minutes, all their drinks were served. The group chatted casually for a few minutes while holding their glasses, but Fudge seemed distracted the whole time.

“I thought you would have come sooner. I mean, after I imprisoned those Dementors in the Ministry of Magic, I thought you would have come knocking on my door immediately.”

When Amosta spoke, the professors all fell silent, and several professors used their eyes to urge the students around them who were eavesdropping to behave themselves.

“I was going to do that, Amosta—” Fudge said awkwardly, “but something more important has held me back.”

Upon hearing this, several Hogwarts faculty and staff members showed a degree of surprise. At the moment, for the Ministry of Magic, there were more important matters than capturing Sirius Black.

"An event will likely be launched next year!"

Fudge's happy voice was filled with obvious superiority.

"Don't ask me, everyone. The project is still in the planning stage, and the Ministry of Magic needs to keep it strictly confidential. What I can tell you is that Dumbledore and I have been actively pushing for the smooth progress of this event. Some time ago, the two of us persuaded a certain party that was going to participate in the event to hold the competition in Ho... uh, in England!"

The professors exchanged bewildered glances. Finally, Professor Flitwick spoke in a shrill voice.

"If you mean the World Cup, Minister?"

"That's not relevant, Felius. Oh, anyway, in a few months we'll probably hear some news, and I guarantee you'll be very surprised!"

Chapter 225 You're Lucky

Large, feathery snowflakes fell softly, enveloping the world in mist like smoke and dust.

The biting north wind was as sharp as a knife, and whenever people came in or out, the cold air blowing into the bar from the doorway would cause them to gasp in unison.

Fudge displayed the composure expected of a high-ranking official in the Ministry of Magic, remaining tight-lipped and refusing to divulge a single detail despite Professor Flitwick and Hagrid's various attempts to inquire.

Then why did you say it?

Amos rolled his eyes, thinking to himself, "Is this just someone showing off their superiority?"

“I think you have heard the voices of the common people, Mr. Minister.”

Politicians like Fudge, if you don't get straight to the point, they can chatter on and on all day. Amosta didn't want to spend the whole afternoon battling Fudge over 'language arts,' so after that mysterious topic of conversation ended, he got straight to the point.