The Return to Hogwarts

"Honorable guest, what would you like?"

"call--"

Amostella pretended not to notice the wary looks from the Muggles. He dusted himself off and let out a long sigh.

"To be honest, I'd rather treat myself to something to soothe my stomach right now. Of course, if you have Ogden Firewood whisky here, I wouldn't recommend having a few sips."

"Ogden Aged Flame Whisky"

The bar owner and several familiar customers looked at each other, puzzled as to what the young stranger was saying.

"Oh, please don't mind what I said--"

Amosta placed his suitcase on the table and smiled at his puzzled boss.

"I need some food, anything will do."

Three minutes later, the bar owner brought two ham sandwiches to Amosta on a chipped plate, said "Enjoy your meal," and then jogged back to the bar.

Amosta pretended not to notice the drunken guests staring intently at the back of his head, and buried himself in the sandwich on his plate. Perhaps because he was wolfing it down, Amosta choked after only one bite of the second sandwich. He coughed violently several times, his cheeks turning red.

"Ahem, sorry—" Amosta patted his chest and waved towards the bar, "Could I get a drink?"

Once the slightly sweet liquor had gone down his throat, Amosta's expression returned to normal. He patted his chest, glanced at the tavern's guests who were almost openly wary of him, and chuckled.

"May I ask you something, sir?"

"what?"

The boss clenched his fist on the bar counter and responded warily.

“It’s just a simple question—” Amosta shrugged, gesturing with his gaze to his wary guest, “I’m thinking, I mean, I’ve been to many places, but nowhere is it as wary of outsiders as Little Hangton. Is this your custom or tradition?”

"no--"

Before the bar owner could speak, one of the outspoken patrons sitting around said...

"It's because of old Frank!"

Then, the bar owner gave the villager who spoke a warning look.

"Old Frank?"

Amosta's smile became even more friendly.

"Why won't you tell me properly about Mr. Frank? I'm sorry, I've been out in the wild for too long and I've forgotten my manners. Boss, please give each of these kind gentlemen a glass of sherry, and put it on my tab!"

Chapter 447 Cannot Be Hidden

2023-08-28

Ten minutes later, Amosta was sitting at a table with the local villagers in the tavern, and there were many more empty wine glasses on the table in front of them.

"So that's what it is-"

Amostella wiped the sweet wine from the corner of his mouth with his guard and said with interest.

"You're wary of me because Old Frank died under mysterious circumstances, and the police have warned you to be aware of any outsiders who have been hanging around the village recently."

Who could have predicted that?

Among them, the oldest, with completely white hair, sighed deeply.

"I saw him working in the garden the afternoon before he died. I never imagined that would be the last time I saw him. Frank, to be honest, never thought he'd have a good life, did he?"

"Yes, poor old man."

Perhaps because Amosta had been so generous, buying him so much alcohol, the bar owner no longer saw Amosta's young face as that of a murderer.

"Old Frank served in the war when he was young, and he even did his part for us—"

Is it possible—

Amosta remained attentive, and as everyone mourned Frank, whom they had usually overlooked but who now evoked pity in his death, Amosta spoke up at the opportune moment.

"Is it possible that he died of natural causes? I mean, according to you, this Mr. Frank was quite old, wasn't he?"

Amosta's question brought silence to the tavern. Several drunks stared at Amosta expectantly, making it clear that they had even more juicy gossip to share with him, but only if he paid a price.

"Excuse me, boss—"

The owner behind the bar had been waiting for a while, and the moment Amosta waved, he brought several glasses of sherry to the table.

babble-

Old Dortmund emptied his glass in one gulp, smacked his lips in satisfaction, and then looked at him mysteriously.

“This isn’t as simple as you think, young man. The police are at a loss because they can’t find anything wrong with Frank’s body, but when he was carried out of Riddle House—”

“Excuse me,” Amosta immediately interrupted old Dort, frowning as he asked, “Whose residence?”

“Riddle House, you must have seen it, the house on the hillside,” old Dort said excitedly. “That house has changed owners several times, but it was originally the Riddle family, Mr. and Mrs. Riddle and their bad son Tom Riddle. They died in that house fifty years ago, just like old Frank. They were frightened before they died, but there were no traces on their bodies.”

"The police still remember that case from back then—"

"That's why they're convinced Frank's death was murder," the boss said amiably.

"It's no wonder."

Amosta took a sip of his drink and nodded imperceptibly.

"You forgot to mention something!"

Most of the conversation had already been covered by old Dortmund, the bar owner. Among the remaining patrons, who had been treated to several drinks by Amosta, one spoke urgently.

"When the Riddle family died, only old Frank was still alive in that house. The police thought he was the murderer, but Frank insisted on his innocence. The only thing he told the police was that on the day of the incident, he found a little boy near the house that no one in the village had ever seen. So the police thought he was just making it up!"

The group began to debate whether the boy actually existed, whether he could have been the murderer of the Riddle family, and whether, many years later, old Frank had also died at the hands of that same boy.

Amosta maintained a polite smile, but his eyes revealed indifference.

He truly hadn't expected that Voldemort, after traversing mountains and rivers, would actually hide back in his hometown.

Without a doubt, the old owner of that house on the mountain must have died at Voldemort's hands.

Tom Riddle.

Voldemort was an orphan, like himself, raised in an orphanage. But after finding his father's family, he didn't acknowledge them; instead, he coldly killed them.

Amostella didn't bother to think about the love and hate involved; it was just a similar situation to his own, except that his situation was special, so he didn't care much. Voldemort, on the other hand, chose the most extreme approach.

"Has old Frank been buried yet?"

Suddenly, Amosta asked a completely unrelated question.

“The police took his body away and haven’t brought it back. I guess they’re still trying to figure out what caused old Frank’s death, but I think they’re wasting their time, just like always.”

Amosta nodded but did not speak.

To be fair, Riddle House is indeed a respectable and magnificent mansion.

It's a bit of a distance from the village, and quite secluded. Because it's built on high ground, the scenery of the wilderness is breathtaking. If it weren't for the fact that he now has a place to stay, and that this is Voldemort's old home, Amosta might have actually considered buying the mansion from its current owner.

A radiant orb floated in mid-air, illuminating the staircase leading to the second floor, which was cordoned off by police.

The footprints on the stone steps, covered with a thick layer of dust, were messy, probably left by the police when a large group rushed up to the second floor after receiving the news. Amosta didn't want to cause any trouble, so he had been floating ever since he entered the house.

Amosta increased its floating height, leaped over the blockade line, and suddenly accelerated, soaring up to the second floor with a whoosh.

Since the villagers and police had already been to the house, it meant that the wizard inside had long since left. Therefore, Amosta did not waste any more time guarding the surroundings, but instead floated directly to the house where the gardener, Frank Bryce, whose body had been found, was the one the villagers had mentioned.

This was easy to spot because the Muggle police had set up a separate cordon at the entrance of the house.

On the night old Frank died, everything in the village was as usual. A few men drank in the tavern until midnight, and then the tavern owner forced them to go home to sleep. As they staggered home, they suddenly saw a green light emanating from the second floor of Riddle House on the hillside. The light was extremely bright and chilling.

Along with the green light came a loud boom, as if something had exploded.

Fueled by alcohol, the group of drunkards rushed into the house to investigate the source of the light and strange noises, and then they discovered the already dead old Frank.

The police were highly skeptical of the drunkards' testimonies. After carefully examining the scene, they found no signs of disturbance, and no old objects were damaged in the explosion. In fact, the police suspected there was no explosion or green light at all; these idle fellows had likely only seen a flash of lightning.

It was packed in a very hurry.

The traces of magic are hard to hide. The room's furnishings have remained unchanged for half a century—the old fireplace, the dusty armchairs, the creaking wooden floors, the worm-eaten, pitted ancestral paintings hanging on the walls. From a Muggle's perspective, there is nothing wrong with any of it.

But in Amosta's eyes, they all showed obvious signs of being magically repaired.

The overgrown lawn outside the window was bathed in the bright moonlight, while the uninvited breeze that had entered the mansion hummed a bloody ballad.

Amosta pulled out his wand and traced complex, mysterious lines in front of him.

In the dim environment, many fine sand particles of light suddenly appeared in the air. These iridescent sand particles gradually formed an orderly picture as Amosta's wand was swung.

Amosta retreated to the wall, silently watching the flowing images in mid-air. The light and shadow cast a cold, sharp light on his angular profile. After a long while, the light and shadow dissipated, and everything returned to normal, except for a slightly authoritative voice that echoed through the abandoned mansion.

"--Bertha Jorkins."

Chapter 448 Urgent Situation

2023-08-29

Thanks to Amosta's quick reaction and timely tracking, and the fact that the two wizards who left the old house in a hurry did not spend too much effort to hide their presence, Amosta seized the opportunity and saw some extremely important information.

The Druids and Voldemort became allies.