The Return to Hogwarts

After spending half an hour dealing with hygiene and breakfast, and packing up the tent, Amosta scanned his surroundings with a slightly wary look. Then, he tapped his forehead with his wand, and as a stream of cold water flowed down, his figure gradually disappeared from the rocky mountain.

Last night, Amosta ruthlessly wiped out the Albanian black magic community, and this event will surely cause a huge uproar in the European underworld for some time to come.

The dark wizards still in this area might be frightened and flee, but they will almost certainly gather their forces and return to take revenge. Every one of the dark wizards he killed had a master or friend, and they will not turn a blind eye to this. The destruction of a family is a deep-seated blood feud, and the wizards who came from this country will not let him go.

Even dark wizards are wizards, and the International Wizarding Federation, upon receiving the news, will likely not stand idly by and will probably send an investigator to investigate.

Amosta was not afraid of these things, but he knew that the forest would be incredibly lively in the coming period, and he had to find out what he wanted to investigate before things got too chaotic.

Tracking a wizard in the forest is much easier than tracking magical creatures.

Magical creatures are part of the forest, and the forest helps them conceal their presence. Wizards always leave obvious traces wherever they go. Although experienced wizards know how to hide themselves, this kind of concealment is itself a form of exposure in the eyes of true experts.

Two hours later, Amosta appeared deep in the forest.

"Scarce" is an understatement to describe the isolation of this place. The surrounding trees are all nearly a hundred feet tall, and the fallen leaves underfoot are equally impressively thick. Centuries of accumulated decaying leaves can cause a large area around your foot to undulate like waves when you step on them.

The air was filled with a toxic miasma and the aroma of wine, which came from a large grove of fruit trees that Amosta had passed by earlier. The fruit from those trees had fallen to the ground and, over time, accumulated to form a thick layer of fruit pulp. Through natural fermentation, this pulp unexpectedly produced fruit wine, forming a small, peculiar lake of fruit wine.

Logically speaking, the area around the wine lake should be teeming with all sorts of creatures from the forest, but strangely, apart from the skeletons of some small animals, no other living things were found on the viscous surface of the lake in Amosta.

He was led to this place by some strange marks on the lakeshore.

On the rotten, soft ground, there were many thick marks, which looked like they were left by a python.

Compared to other places, the plants here are tall, but their distribution density is not particularly high, appearing somewhat sparse. However, this is not surprising, as the tall trees deprive the earth of nutrients, making it impossible for grasses and vines to survive.

The pervasive poisonous miasma made everything in sight appear sinister and terrifying, as if vengeful ghosts were lurking in the shadows behind the indistinct mist.

Amosta floated in mid-air, looking down at the ground.

The trails on the pile of decaying leaves became messy and overlapping, indicating that he was close to the python's lair. However, Amosta did not venture any further.

He floated to a tall redwood, looked up, and gazed at the withered tips of the redwood leaves.

This redwood tree did not suffer from any disease, but it withered mysteriously in the season of burgeoning life, as if it had been completely stripped of its life.

This situation was not uncommon here. A Mosta glanced around and saw that many trees in the area were in the same condition. His fingertips brushed against the charred tree trunks, and a strange light flickered in A Mosta's eyes.

These trees did not die naturally; rather, they withered after their life force was drained by some force.

Wizards aren't without the means to do this, but those with similar effects are all dark magic. Dark magic is brutal; it's like a reservoir. To drain the water, dark magic would blow up the dam. But what's happening now is like someone somehow opening the dam's floodgates—much gentler.

Continuing onward, we discovered numerous animal skeletons along the way. Most of these remains were jet black, suggesting they had been eroded by some kind of venom before their deaths. Some skeletons were completely shattered, indicating they had been ensnared by giant pythons and perished.

Everything before my eyes is confirming a certain possibility.

Even though he had anticipated this possibility, Amosta still couldn't understand how it had happened.

Ahead of the path stood a huge banyan tree.

The canopy of this banyan tree and its aerial roots cover an area nearly half the size of a Quidditch pitch, while the base of the trunk forms a spacious hollow.

Amosta gripped his wand tightly as his sharp gaze swept around the room.

Some people tried to hide their magical traces, but the strangely colored sea of ​​magic still showed obvious signs of erosion, just like the marks left by the giant python he had found on the decaying leaf ground by the Fruit Wine Lake.

This is an extremely insidious and corrosive magic, and very dangerous.

Upon entering, the scene inside the tree hollow made Amosta frown inwardly.

Unlike outside, the air here is not filled with a strong smell of decay. The soft fallen leaves on the ground are very dry, as if they have been tidied up.

Deep inside the tree hollow, there was a small area where the fallen leaves were piled up thicker than in other areas. Amosta floated over, stared at the fallen leaves for a while, and suddenly, with a flick of his finger, a small thing flew into his hand with a whoosh.

It's scales!

It must have been left by the giant python that was active in this area.

After examining the scales for a while, Amosta put it in his pocket and continued searching. Not long after, he found a small seedling in the center of the tree hole.

This lush green seedling has not yet completely shed the layers of fallen leaves; it seems it will break through the soil's barrier in just a few days.

After a moment's thought, Amosta moved his wand, and a gentle breeze pushed the fallen leaves of the seedlings aside.

Upon seeing the soil, Amosta's brows furrowed involuntarily.

The soil nearby was a much darker color than the outer edge, and it was wet and had a strange stickiness.

Amosta dipped his finger in some dirt, sniffed it, and the stench made his heart sink.

This is human flesh and blood, and it looks like it has been corroded and destroyed by magic.

Is it Vitia Kriona or an employee of the British Ministry of Magic that she took from the House of Soul Eaters?

There's no need to think too much about this question; Amosta already has the answer.

"call--"

Amosta patted the dirt off his hands, let out a long sigh, and gazed at the light and shadow cast in the air, a hint of melancholy and confusion in his eyes.

"How exactly did you two get together?"

Chapter 446 Approaching

2023-08-28

Amosta felt like he was back in the old days, when he was running all over Europe to complete a commission.

Although the Albanian expedition ended in disappointment, it didn't mean the journey was meaningless; on the contrary, he gained a great deal. The large tree hollow in the primeval forest was clearly the place where Voldemort, who struck fear into the hearts of the British wizarding world, survived after losing his magic.

For over a decade, Voldemort had been lurking in that forest, but now he has left, and his whereabouts are a mystery.

Amosta didn't care where Voldemort had gone. Before figuring out how many Horcruxes Voldemort had created and destroying them all, there was no point in finding out if Voldemort was still alive and killing him.

But Amosta still used the scent on the snake scale to track it down.

He could disregard what tricks Voldemort was playing.

In his previous conversation with Dumbledore, his meaning was quite clear: he was prepared to tacitly allow Voldemort to regain his magical powers. Furthermore, in their earlier discussions, they had almost certainly concluded that Voldemort would use Harry. This means that, at this stage, Voldemort is most likely plotting how to obtain Harry.

Amosta was more concerned about why Vitia Creona had gotten involved with Voldemort.

Although Amostella had suffered at this woman's hands, he knew very well that this Druidic priestess was not an evil person; on the contrary, because of her faith, she should be seen as a kind and welcome figure. Voldemort, on the other hand, was known as the most evil wizard in history; the two were simply not on the same wavelength.

But somehow, they still ended up getting mixed up together.

This incident left Amosta with a bad feeling. He felt a sense of powerlessness as things gradually slipped out of his control, while at the same time, he had the illusion that the wheels of fate were moving along a predetermined path, and that his appearance was nothing more than an arrangement of destiny.

Dumbledore certainly didn't want to come face to face with Voldemort right now, but Amostall couldn't pretend not to see it. He had to find out exactly how Voldemort and Vitia Creona, people from completely different worlds, had joined forces.

Instead of using Apparition, the easiest way to leave the Albanian forest, they chose to travel along remote paths far from the world.

After some thought, Amosta roughly guessed that Voldemort's current condition was still poor, and he was unable to acknowledge the immense pressure his body suffered during Apparition. This was actually a good thing, making Amosta's pursuit easier.

Finally, after more than ten days of enduring wind and rain, Amosta left the wilderness. For the first time, the scent of the scales led him to a village inhabited by humans. It was a village built on a hill, surrounded by vast fields of farmland, with a narrow, winding path leading to a town more than ten miles away.

The sunset painted half the sky red, and the sun was tilting towards the horizon.

Standing on the high ground, Amosta faced the direction of the setting sun and gazed at the highest mountain in the nearby area, where the once magnificent buildings could still be faintly seen.

Little Hangleton.

At the entrance to the village, a rusty sign with inscriptions told him where he was.

Just as Amosta stood at the village entrance staring at the village sign, a farm machine roared up from the road behind him and honked its horn.

Hearing the noise, Amosta turned his head, smiled apologetically at the farmer in the cockpit, and then moved aside.

It's getting dark; it's time for dinner.

Villagers who had worked in the nearby fields all day hurried home for dinner. They chatted as they basked in the sunset, and loud laughter echoed across the open fields from time to time.

Not long after entering the village, Amosta noticed something unusual.

As a stranger, Amosta wasn't surprised that his appearance would attract attention. However, the villagers seemed to pay close attention to his presence. Almost every villager who noticed him, regardless of what they were doing before, immediately stopped what they were doing and stared at him intently, their eyes mostly filled with vigilance and wariness, and a little bit with curiosity. After he passed by, the villagers behind him would huddle together and whisper among themselves, pointing and gossiping about his back.

"Excuse me, ma'am—"

After a moment's thought, Amosta stopped in his tracks, stood in the middle of the road, and smiled slightly at a young woman who was collecting clothes by the roadside.

"Oh, what?"

The young woman was completely taken aback by Amosta's sudden response. She was so startled that she almost dropped the clothes she was holding and ran into the house. However, when her gaze fell upon the handsome face of the gray-haired young man, she suppressed her fear, blushed, and stammered.

"I'd like to ask if there are any places to eat nearby?"

Amosta gave a slight bow, a polite smile on his face, and pointed to the muddy soles of his shoes.

"I walked a long way today, maybe it's time to stop and treat my stomach--"

"Oh!"

The girl froze for a few seconds before reacting. She clutched her chest tightly, breathing slightly heavily, and pointed in a direction for Amosta.

"There...there's a hanged tavern there that offers food and drinks to travelers."

So, ten minutes later, Amosta stood in front of the only tavern in the village.

Perhaps because it was dinnertime, there weren't many customers in the drab tavern. Only a few drunken men were muttering incoherently near the bar.

Amosta was certain what had happened in the village, because as he pushed open the door to the tavern and was still looking at the furnishings in the hall, the drunken men immediately sobered up and looked at him warily.

"Welcome!"

Despite the poor business, the bar owner, whose head was almost entirely bald, greeted customers with a curt and unfriendly tone.