The Return to Hogwarts

The clouds parted and the moon shone brightly; all the dust settled.

Inside the office, Amosta and Dumbledore sat on the sofa, facing each other. Their expressions were calmer than the other had expected; there was no surprise, no anger, no excitement or confusion, only a sense of relief after the final answer had been revealed.

The open flame in the fireplace had died down, leaving only smoldering, glowing embers. The light filtering through the mural on the entrance wall was the only source of illumination in the office. Amusta leaned back on the soft sofa, his gaze following the wisps of smoke rising from his teacup, unconsciously stroking his chin.

"Is the wine pot filled with a compound decoction?"

“I agree with you, Amosta—” Dumbledore said calmly.

“That proves at least one thing, Alastor. I mean, the real him should still be alive. He should be hidden by the fake Moody so that the fake Moody can take his hair whenever he wants. Hmm, I think Alastor should be in the fake Moody’s office. What do you think, Amosta?”

"A reasonable assumption—"

Amos Tower nodded slightly in agreement. His gaze lingered through the mist on Dumbledore's slightly somber, aged face, and a sense of admiration welled up within him.

Alastor Moody was a longtime friend of Dumbledore, but upon learning of his friend's misfortune, Dumbledore remained remarkably calm, seemingly unconcerned about his friend's plight. When decisiveness and ruthlessness were required, Albus Dumbledore did not hesitate to display his rationality, and this is what makes Albus Dumbledore, the greatest wizard of his time, so awe-inspiring.

"I do not understand--"

After a moment of contemplation, Amosta shook his head, then looked directly into Dumbledore's deep blue eyes behind his half-moon glasses.

“I remember you once told me that last year, when the Dementors who were capturing Sirius stormed into the school, my Patronus underwent a slight change. At that time, you told me that you could, to some extent, see into a person’s soul state. Headmaster Dumbledore, shouldn’t you have been deceived by Polyjuice Potion, especially since Professor Moody is an old friend of yours?”

“I don’t want to make excuses for my mistake, Amosta, but it was indeed a terrible one—”

A bitter smile, understandable to most, finally appeared on Dumbledore's lips.

"I trusted Alastor Moody; he was once my capable assistant and staunch supporter. This trust made me careless, causing me to overlook some unusual behaviors of the fake Moody after entering Hogwarts, and to fail to observe the state of a person's soul—"

Dumbledore paused, his eyes gleaming in the dim light.

"I do possess this ability, but this unusual power isn't as easy as summoning food from the kitchen with a summoning spell. It comes at a price. Until I clearly foresee Tom's fate, I hope to remain healthy. If Tom discovers I'm old and need assistance to walk, he'll be quite pleased. As a professor, I hope to maintain basic decorum in front of my former students—"

Amosta stared intently at Dumbledore, whose eyes were calm, unsure whether his explanation was a cover-up or the truth.

For a long time, people have been speculating about how much of Albus Dumbledore's former abilities he still possesses.

Since his epic battle with Grindelwald, outsiders have hardly heard of Dumbledore wielding his wand against anyone else. They believe that the over-100-year-old Albus Dumbledore has little power left, and they only respect him because of his high esteem.

Even those close to Dumbledore mostly saw him as a spiritual leader and pillar of support; they trusted his wisdom more than his magic.

Perhaps Amostella is the one who understands Dumbledore's strength best.

A faint, yet unmistakable sense of threat emanating from Dumbledore's aged body constantly reminded him that this legendary centenarian wizard was not as frail as outsiders imagined. Amosta even suspected that Dumbledore possessed some kind of trump card, which he had been keeping hidden to intimidate Voldemort, or perhaps himself.

"You think—"

Amosta looked away and asked softly.

"Principal Dumbledore, do you think it's necessary for us to find out the identity of the fake Moody?"

"Ah, of course—"

Dumbledore stood up from the sofa. "While we've reached an agreement on restoring Tom's magic, we at least need to figure out who we're actually paying. Come on, Amosta, let's get that sorted out—"

The cold night was desolate, and Hogwarts, perched on the high ground, had fallen into a deep slumber. It seemed that only the headmaster and the head of the student safety office were still awake in the entire castle. Of course, the industrious elves in the kitchen were probably busy with their own survival.

Dumbledore and Amos Tower crossed the skybridge, which stretched thousands of feet above the ground, and walked through the maze-like corridors to reach the tower where Dumbledore's office was located.

Inside the principal's office, Fox was perched on a golden branch over a brazier, while the portraits of previous principals hanging on the walls lay dormant. The office was filled with the comical clanging and rustling of the strange alchemical tools.

“Please sit down, Amosta. We need to use a few tools to help us—”

Amosta sat down in his usual spot as instructed, while Dumbledore strode briskly to the bookshelf, retrieved a delicate silver instrument from a lower compartment, and placed it on his desk. For some reason, Amosta sensed an excitement in Dumbledore's steps, as if Hermione had spotted a final exam question that suited her taste.

Let's see--

Dumbledore took out his wand and gently tapped the device. Amostella could feel an obscure and inexplicable wave instantly sweeping through and spreading in all directions, quickly breaking through the headmaster's office.

Time paused for about ten seconds, and then, without any warning, the instrument began to operate, emitting rhythmic tinkling sounds. Wisps of pale green smoke billowed from the small silver tube at the top, gathering and swirling in the air. Amosta naturally stood up, and he and Dumbledore both observed intently as the smoke gradually thickened and stabilized, waiting for it to completely solidify.

boom!

Just a second before the answer surfaced, a brighter green light suddenly flashed in the mist. Dumbledore's eyes sharpened instantly, and he swung his wand sharply. The steady smoke dissipated with a bang due to his interference, and the bright green light vanished from their sight.

"Oh, that's interesting—"

This time, it was Dumbledore who uttered this remark with great interest, saying...

"Extremely vigilant and cautious, I believe he took precautions on every level, including his soul—"

Dumbledore looked up at Amostella and smiled as he spoke.

"The way this unknown gentleman or lady disguises the soul is very ingenious. I almost touched it, but in my opinion, it doesn't seem like the work of a wizard."

If Amostella still can't understand Dumbledore's hints, then he's really being foolish; in fact, it's a conclusion that requires no thought.

After a long silence, Amosta suddenly sighed and shook his head.

"Vitia Kriona, she's determined to spend the rest of her life in Azkaban."

Chapter 562 Campus Check-in

2023-10-28

The last day of October was a Saturday, and usually the students would get up late for breakfast. However, today was slightly different; most of the young wizards were up earlier than usual for a weekend. When they hurried downstairs to the foyer, they were surprised to find that the hall's decorations had changed again.

Above the auditorium, a large swarm of live bats flew around the enchanted ceiling, while hundreds of pumpkin-carved figures peered at everyone from every corner. Meanwhile, the surrounding walls were covered with colorful Halloween decorations.

The little wizard suddenly realized that today was Halloween.

In the past, Halloween celebrations were always exciting and anticipated, but this year, the holiday has to give way to the grand Triwizard Tournament.

Few people lingered over the pumpkin, the size of a small house, that Hagrid had created with an expansion charm in front of the Great Hall. One by one, the young wizards who rushed downstairs surrounded the foyer, excitedly pointing and whispering at Fred and George, who were about to conduct a great experiment.

What makes them think they can succeed?

Hermione commented on the eager Fred and George in an obvious tone.

"An aging agent—to think that Professor Dumbledore would be fooled by such a petty trick is utterly ridiculous!"

Harry, also eagerly awaiting the outcome, spoke fairly after hearing Hermione's nagging.

“I bet Fred and George aren’t the students who would do something like this. Once you become a warrior, you’ll immediately gain fame in the wizarding world and earn a lot of Galleons. Not many people can resist that kind of temptation.”

"Yes, Dumbledore is indeed remarkable—"

Hermione seemed displeased with Harry's statement, frowning and glaring at him, while Ron, meanwhile, stared intently at his two brothers.

"But that's precisely why he could be deceived by the aging potion, isn't it? A wizard like him would only consider who could break his magic, and wouldn't care about those little tricks—"

"Your analysis is quite insightful, Ron—"

Hermione rolled her eyes and said sarcastically,

"But haven't you considered that if these tricks really succeed, and the champion of Hogwarts is a minor wizard under the age of seventeen, how will Professor Dumbledore and Professor Blaine explain this to Beauxbatons and Durmstrang? You know, Hogwarts is not the only candidate to host the Triwizard Tournament; this is definitely something they have worked hard to make happen."

Hermione's statement surprised both Harry and Ron. To be honest, they hadn't considered this issue, and Harry was certain that Fred and George hadn't either.

"Should we stop them?"

After a moment's hesitation, Harry looked at Fred and George, who were laughing and joking, and said tentatively.

Professor Dumbledore and Professor Blaine were the two wizards he respected most. If he could, Harry would certainly be happy to try to become a Hogwarts champion. But if the price was that Professor Dumbledore and Professor Blaine would be unable to face the outside world, then he would rather be a spectator.

Ron shrank back guiltily, his gaze towards Fred and George becoming more composed. He had originally planned to try Fred and George's method if it worked.

Now, thanks to Hermione's reminder, and considering Professor Blaine's kindness to their family, if becoming a champion would cause Professor Blaine a lot of trouble, then his mother might not even wait for him to participate in his first project representing Hogwarts before tearing him to pieces.

“Oh, I don’t think so—” Hermione crossed her arms, watching the twins’ behavior dismissively. “They’ll learn their lesson. They’ll forget Professor Blaine’s warnings completely.”

"Now, what unfolds before you is one of the most famous natural landscapes of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry in the British wizarding world—the Black Lake!"

In the early morning, the meager warmth of the rising sun had not yet completely dispelled the misty fog on the lake. As autumn approached, the deep green branches of a row of willows along the lake swayed rhythmically in the breeze.

Amosta was in high spirits—at least, judging from his expression. He spoke passionately to the group of visitors, including Beauxbatons and Durmstrang, completely ignoring their sleepy or bewildered expressions.

Early in the morning, Mr. Amostah Blaine rushed to Beauxbatons and Durmstrang's post, enthusiastically expressing his request to introduce Hogwarts to everyone.

No one would pass up the opportunity to get up close and personal with the renowned Amostella Blaine, especially since he would also introduce them to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, a school with a long history and a pivotal position in the world's magical education.

Then, to everyone's surprise, Mr. Blaine took a group of people directly to the cool lakeside and talked for a long time while looking at the unobstructed lake surface.

Hibiscus, standing in the crowd, gritted her teeth and glared angrily at Amosta Blaine.

She was secretly pleased when she left Amosta's office last night, after all, Dumbledore had agreed to Amosta's request to give her a tour of Hogwarts. She thought it would be a good opportunity to be alone with Amosta, but she didn't expect that this man would actually bring a 'tour group'!

"Many amazing aquatic creatures live beneath the Black Lake, including mermaids, Grindelwald, and a giant squid that is extremely rare in the world. According to internal records, this squid has lived in these waters since the founding of Hogwarts, and it may even have had dealings with the four great founders of Hogwarts!"

This was an interesting piece of information, and many people perked up and peered out at the lake, hoping to catch a glimpse of the giant squid.

"Alright, ladies and gentlemen, follow me closely, we're about to visit another must-see attraction on the Hogwarts campus!"

Amosta clapped his hands loudly, then pushed past the Beauxbatons students huddled together for shelter from the cold wind, pretending not to see Fleur, who was pulling a beautifully dressed, adorable little girl, glaring angrily at him.

"The Man-Beating Willow!"

Amosta led his group across the lawn to the other edge of the field, pointing to a large tree that was anxiously waving its willow branches, making a rustling sound, because it felt threatened by too many people approaching.

"This is an extremely precious magical plant. It has very high environmental requirements; generally, it can only survive in areas with abundant magic. As far as I know, there is only one in the UK, of course—"

Amosta flicked his finger, causing a large patch of moss at his feet to float up and slowly drift towards the Mandarin Willow.

Snapped!

After the piercing whistle that cut through the space, there was a short, crisp crack of a whip. The large patch of moss, struck heavily by the willow branch, scattered like mud, the fragments raining down on the onlookers.