The Return to Hogwarts

The world outside is full of spring, and the gentle, warm breeze is intoxicating, but inside the Blake family mansion, it feels like a harsh winter is in full swing.

A wisp of pure white ice crystal peeked out from under the crack of the closed laboratory door, and spread rapidly through the third-floor corridor like ivy nourished by abundant rain, covering the wall in the blink of an eye.

In the unseen world, an evil, ink-black magic was roaring wildly. Kreacher, who was crouching outside the door at any moment, was trembling with fear and wished he could escape the house immediately. However, his house-elf instincts compelled him to stay.

A thick fog seemed to have descended upon the laboratory.

The granular black mist permeating the air was like waves being pulled by the moon, rising and falling. The only object emitting a pure white halo in this surging black tide was the soul that Amosta had extracted from the body of the evil bird.

The soul, as pure as moonlight, radiated a glow with a gelatinous quality. Because it had just separated from its original body, the Soul of the Wicked Bird was many times more dazzling than the ghosts in Hogwarts that had existed for hundreds or thousands of years.

Gazing into the soul, Amosta felt an irrepressible surge of joy; experience told him that success was already beckoning him.

The wand in his hand traced an enigmatic path through the air. Drawn by a mysterious aura, the black 'sand' floating in the room converged at the tip of the wand like rivers flowing into the sea, forming a pattern resembling a rune or an array. The moment this pattern appeared, a powerful and malevolent magic caused the air to tremble violently, and the soul of the nearby evil bird rippled like the surface of a lake ruffled by a gentle breeze.

Amostah narrowed his eyes as he pressed his wand against the pattern that embodied evil will and immense magical power, slowly and laboriously pushing it toward the soul of the Wicked Bird as if pushing a heavy object.

The moment the two touched, a shrill cry suddenly rang out in the void, and the outline of the evil bird's soul in front of him immediately trembled violently. The fear and despair emanating from it even reached Kreacher outside the door.

The jet-black pattern itself spread out dozens of fine tendrils like plant roots, which fiercely pierced into the soul's body. After being eroded, the originally holy soul gradually darkened in color, and the dark halo it emitted revealed a hint of evil!

The mysteries of the soul are rarely glimpsed. Amostah cast aside all distractions and focused intently on analyzing the various mysteries within the soul suspended in mid-air. Combining his existing knowledge, he quickly constructed a knowledge framework for the soul system.

The transformation of the evil bird's soul lasted for a full ten minutes. The moment the pattern completely melted its carrier, an invisible wave of strong wind rippled outwards, forcing Amosta to take a step back.

As all the strange phenomena subsided, a black cursed seed shaped like a flame suddenly appeared before his eyes!

Chapter 355 The Decisive Move

2023-06-28

Like a flower of hell blooming in the human world, the surging flames constantly sprinkle water-like flames all around. These soul-like petals seem to be just illusions, but they have an extremely strong corrosive power. When they come into contact with the table and the floor, the table and the floor at the point of contact seem to have experienced many springs, summers, autumns and winters in an instant. The deep color gradually turns gray and white, and in the blink of an eye, they are corrupted into ash!

It worked!

Amostah pursed his lips, almost jumping for joy. He hadn't felt this happy in a long time for overcoming a difficult point in the development of a spell.

The dim light enveloped the room, making Amosta's handsome face appear even more sinister. He stared quietly at the flickering flames, admiring his 'masterpiece', but then, a strange thud came from outside the door. Amosta looked in the direction of the sound and frowned slightly at the first glance.

It was Kreacher, who had been obeying orders to guard the door for him. However, his old body could no longer withstand the magic emanating from the room, and he collapsed in the hallway outside.

Amostah snapped back to reality. He had been so focused on the Blood Curse that he hadn't realized the devastating impact the experiment had had on his surroundings. Half of the Black family mansion was now covered in a pale blue frost, and many of the portraits of the Black family ancestors hanging on the walls were frozen in their frames, their expressions conveying only their anger through their eyes.

The Muggles living in rooms 11 and 13 of Grimmauld Place also sensed something was wrong. Although the crimson sunset was still spreading across the sky and the sky above was clear, the rooms were unbearably cold.

Amostah's brow furrowed even deeper as he realized that now was not the time to celebrate his achievements.

The Irish goblin woke up once, but after being bitten by the venomous snake that bound it, it fainted again, its face turning blue.

After Amostella controlled the evil bird's soul, she slowly floated above its head, took a deep breath, and then suddenly pressed her wand down, igniting flames around her!

In an instant, a agonizing scream, as if being torn apart, echoed throughout the old house. The Irish goblin's agonizing howl, sharper than that of Mrs. Walburger Black downstairs who had witnessed the Mudbloods defiling the family mansion, was even more piercing.

The Irish goblin, not much larger than a goblin, was covered in hideous demonic markings. These dark markings, tinged with a blood-red glow, seemed to be alive, desperately squeezing into the goblin's body and cruelly devouring its life and soul.

This is the most vicious curse. If this Irish goblin had not died here and had left behind descendants, then its descendants would still be unable to escape the curse planted by Amosta thousands of years later!

The erosion of the curse seed took effect very quickly; just two minutes later, the Irish goblin's body had already undergone tremendous changes.

Like a lump of soft clay, the little goblin's body became extremely malleable. The protruding facial features quickly collapsed, the short fingers became long and sharp, and the feet suddenly retracted into the body.

Colorful feathers sprouted out like bamboo shoots after a spring rain. On the back, the wing bones were bloodily piercing through the skin and extending out. Nerves, blood vessels, and flesh covered the exposed wing bones like mold and quickly took shape.

The Irish leprechaun's painful howls gradually turned sour. It could no longer curse Amostra, for it had lost the ability to speak. Only its gaze toward him remained filled with deep-seated hatred!

Gah!

When a highly distinctive, mesmerizing cry echoed through the room, the cruel transformation came to an end.

It wasn't a transformation; it wasn't a polymorph; it wasn't an Animagus. A living Irish leprechaun transformed right before Amosta's eyes into another completely unrelated magical creature!

"Incredible! A genius!"

Having been involved in the magical world for over ten years, Amosta, who has steadily progressed from a clueless magic apprentice to his current position of 'standing out among all wizards', still can't help but marvel.

Although he repaired the Blood Curse based solely on some experimental records and the remaining spell configurations, which was already a remarkable achievement, he still paled in comparison to the legendary ancient Greek wizard 'Herbo the Despicable', who was rumored to be the inventor of the Blood Curse and Horcruxes!

Even Muggles know that if blood and organ types don't match, a forced transplant will only lead to death. Yet the Blood Curse can completely embed a unique soul into the soul of another species. Even wizards with magical powers would find such a method 'unscientific'!

Amosta's gaze followed the panicked Irish leprechaun who was running around frantically, completely bewildered as to what had happened to him, and a broad smile spread across his face.

Horcruxes are weapons that use killing as a tool to cut off one's own soul and store it on an object. As long as the soul fragments are not destroyed, the original owner's soul can continue to exist.

A split soul can only return to its master under one condition: by sincerely and wholeheartedly repenting for its actions. Only in this way can it earn a chance for its soul to be whole again. However, the pain of soul fusion far surpasses the pain of physical torment, and this pain can even directly take the life of the original owner.

However, the Blood Curse can 'bind' different souls together.

Amosta silently took out a glass bottle from his pocket. Inside the bottle was a milky white halo, the texture and radiance of which were very similar to the soul of the evil bird.

Holding the bottle by the bottom, Amosta slowly rotated it in his palm, his enigmatic expression instilling fear.

The bottle contained fragments of Voldemort's soul!

It wasn't a locket, nor Ravenclaw's tiara, but rather the first Horcrux Tom Riddle created—a fragment of soul hidden within that black notebook.

Describing it as a fragment of the soul seems inaccurate, because the soul in that notebook in Slytherin's Chamber of Secrets had already been dismembered by Amostella. What's in this bottle now is the 'purified' essence of the soul, the human emotions and desires rejected by Voldemort!

The memory he had personally stripped away, and later retrieved from Draco's dormitory after meeting Harry, told Amosta that what he possessed would be the key to defeating Voldemort.

When Amosta emerged from her reverie and put the glass bottle back into her storage bag, the 'evil bird' had reverted to its leprechaun form. The Irish leprechaun huddled in the corner, staring at Amosta helplessly and in terror. It was so frightened that even the hateful look in its eyes had vanished.

The Blood Curse is not a one-time permanent transformation. At the beginning, it is a phased transformation with no discernible pattern. As time goes by, the frequency of forced transformations increases until finally, the soul can no longer absorb or transform the pure magic power in the space. Its own power is completely corrupted, and its intelligence as a sentient being is blinded, permanently transforming it into a beast.

If you leave offspring during this process, the power of the Blood Curse will be used as a bridge through blood ties, and the infected offspring will inherit your tragic fate.

In Amosta's view, curses like the Killing Curse, Imperishable Curse, Cruciatus Curse, or Fiendfire are far less cruel than the Blood Curse.

Amostah unleashed a beam of red light from his fingertip, stunning the Irish leprechaun. This little thing cost him a full two thousand gold coins, and to simply 'destroy' it like such a waste was too much. Although he had a basic grasp of the Blood Curse, there were still some very important derivative experiments that required the little guy's cooperation.

Amostra spent a few days of 'happy' life in Black's old house. It was a secluded place where no one would disturb his extremely evil magical experiments, and Kreacher would not expose his information. The old house-elf on his body had become even more respectful of Amostra because the laboratory had leaked the evil magic power of the laboratory.

The descendants of pure-blood wizarding families all possess a few hidden dark magic techniques; only that freak, Sirius Black, disdains the greatness of dark magic.

Good times always seem too short. A letter from Wizengamot, forwarded by Dumbledore, brought his pleasant 'holiday life' to an end.

Chapter 356 Wisengamo

2023-06-30

Nearly half a month later, Amosta stepped back into the Ministry of Magic.

The grand and magnificent entrance hall was marred by the throng of people. Dozens of reporters from magical newspapers around the world, as well as some social celebrities who were closely following the case of Peter Pettigrew, had gathered here, eagerly awaiting the verdict.

Amosta foresaw this scenario and changed his appearance beforehand, thus preventing a riot from occurring.

The Ministry of Magic is taking this trial to an unprecedented degree. In order to maintain order, all departments, except for employees handling emergency matters, have been deployed to the hall to maintain order.

At Eric Munch's post, at the entrance to the elevator lobby, the department had set up a cordon, and anyone not involved in the case was kept outside.

Amosta squeezed through the crowd with difficulty and saw Mr. Weasley, his forehead covered in sweat and his expression anxious, crouching behind the police line, his eyes scanning the bustling crowd as if searching for something.

“Mr. Weasley—”

Amosta pushed his way to the front of the crowd, waving to attract Arthur Weasley's attention. Seeing his puzzled look, Amosta raised an eyebrow and smiled.

“It’s me, Bill’s old friend—”

"Oh!"

Mr. Weasley's face immediately lit up with joy, and he relaxed completely. He greeted the Auror on duty, grabbed Amostall's arm, pulled him behind the security line, and then led him into the elevator lobby without stopping.

“Dumbledore said you’ve never been involved in anything like this before, so he instructed me to show you the way!”

While waiting for the elevator, Mr. Weasley wiped the sweat from his brow and looked at Amostella, whose facial features were contorting and then returning to normal.

“Ah, what a clever idea! Amosta, where have you been hiding? The Wizengamor administration sent you over a dozen letters, informing you of your trial date, but not a single owl could find you. Amelia had no other choice but to think of Dumbledore—”

Amosta smiled apologetically.

“I’ve been staying at 12 Grimmauld Place these past few days, you know, that old house has very tight security. I really forgot about it, unless Dumbledore had Black’s portrait notify me.”

"Ah, I understand, after all, this is your first time participating!"

Mr. Weasley said with a smile, then he tucked a crimson robe hanging from his arm into Amostall's arms, and pulled him into the elevator that had stopped in front of them.

“Amelia asked me to give this to you. Change into it quickly, Amosta. All the Wizengamots participating in the trial must wear this garment—”

Mr. Weasley pounded his fists on the button for the ninth basement level, muttering in dissatisfaction.

"They set up the trial in the Tenth Trial Chamber, a place even the elevator couldn't reach. That house hasn't been used since the Mystic fell. Oh, and to make sure it was presentable, they even got Perkins to clean it. He was my only helper—"

"No need to rush, Mr. Weasley—"

Seeing Mr. Weasley's expression, Amosta chuckled.

“Wesengam will not be unable to hold a feast because of me, and Peter will not be unable to be convicted because of me.”

The elevator groaned and groaned as it reached the ninth basement level. Unlike the other floors, the cold voice that announced the floor's location said "Secret Affairs Department" and then fell silent, offering no further introduction to this floor.

Although Wizengamo's 'work clothes' were flashy in color, they actually made him look quite dignified. The only downside was that when the Ministry of Magic prepared the robes for Amostella, they forgot to measure his height, so the hem of the robes dragged on the ground.

Amosta lifted his hat and followed Mr. Weasley quickly into a corridor. This corridor was completely different from the one above. The walls were empty, with no doors or windows, except for a simple black door at the end of the corridor. Amosta glanced at the door, and his brow twitched almost imperceptibly.

The Department of Mysteries is indeed extraordinary; even a simple door possesses a certain ability to block the perception of magical energy.