The Return to Hogwarts

When it first happened, Fleur was indeed shocked, ashamed, and angry. But now, she felt calm, and even a hint of smugness shone in her clear blue eyes. Facing Amosta's concern, she twitched her pert nose.

"It hurts a little—"

"Furong said in a weak voice."

"Looks like we need to go to the school clinic--"

Amosta nodded.

"Don't worry, Mrs. Pomfrey is very professional in treatment, and she will conduct a thorough examination for you."

Amosta beckoned with his finger, and a green pumpkin detached from its vine and underwent a complex transformation in mid-air. Then, he made Hibiscus float up from the ground and land on a stretcher. Looking at the mud on Hibiscus's skirt, he hesitated for a moment before taking off his robe and covering Hibiscus with it.

“Professor Karkaroff?” Amostah tilted his head, looking at Karkaroff, who was almost obsessed with Harry’s scar.

"what?"

Karkaroff was startled and reluctantly looked away from Harry's forehead.

“I need to take Miss Delacour to the Hogwarts infirmary to treat her injuries,” Amostella said calmly. “Could you please inform Mrs. Maxime?”

Karkaroff was clearly unwilling to leave, but he had no good reason to stay, especially since he had just volunteered to go and inform Mrs. Maxim.

"So--"

Amosta then looked at Hagrid, who was still unable to shake off his shock.

"I was just giving these guests a tour of the Hogwarts campus, Hagrid. If you could, could you take over and continue the tour for them? It would be rather impolite to give up halfway—"

Hagrid moved his lips, his face pale. He knew it was inappropriate for him to remain uninvolved, but Professor Blaine was already leading the little girl from the vegetable garden gate toward the castle, supported by a stretcher floating in mid-air.

"Oh, right--"

Amusta, who was fifty or sixty feet away, suddenly stopped and loudly said something to Hagrid.

"Don't take these kids into the Forbidden Forest, Hagrid."

After speaking, they set off again.

"Will there be any problems, Hermione?"

Harry watched Professor Blaine's departing figure with a worried expression and asked...

“If you’re asking about Miss Delacour’s injuries, Harry—” Hermione, equally worried, “I don’t think there will be any problems. The Blasttail won’t cause any serious damage, and I’m sure Madam Pomfrey could heal her in the blink of an eye. But if you’re asking about the seriousness of the incident—”

Hermione sighed.

"That depends on Beauxbatons' attitude."

After a period of calm following the start of the semester, Hogwarts Hospital began its normal operations. Madam Pomfrey's place would remain bustling until the end of the term, as no one could stop the imaginative young wizards from causing a ruckus.

Amosta saw Neville Longbottom there as well. He didn't seem to be injured, except for one thing: his left ear had mischievously moved to his forehead.

"I'm practicing the Conversion Charm that Professor McGonagall instructed me to --"

Faced with Professor Blaine's question, Neville answered with shame, while Fleur and Gabrielle giggled at the sight of the ears on Neville's forehead.

"What's wrong, Amosta!"

Mrs. Pomfrey emerged from a ward and her face darkened when she saw Amostella. However, she seemed relieved when she realized that Amostella wasn't followed by dozens of wailing little wizards, and she quickly walked over.

“This lady from Beauxbatons—” Amosta said, pointing to Fleur on the stretcher, “suffered a minor leg injury while visiting Hagrid’s vegetable garden.”

"Oh--"

Madam Pomfrey lifted the robe covering Fleur and understood what had happened at a glance. Fleur wasn't the first student injured by Hagrid's Blasttail, nor would she be the last.

"Don't worry, child—"

Mrs. Pomfrey was much friendlier to her guests, she said gently to Fleur.

"Just a little bit of white safflower will cure it. Of course, considering you might have been a little frightened, I think you should have a cup of chocolate milk with a calming agent—"

"Thank you, ma'am."

Fleur smiled sweetly at Mrs. Pomfrey.

In fact, Furong knew that she was not seriously injured and that it would be fine to leave her alone. However, she was clearly happy to find an opportunity to be alone with her classmates and Amosta.

“As the culprit—” Fleur tossed her hair, a bright smile on her face, and looked intently at Amosta.

"You'll stay here, right?"

Amosta couldn't leave, of course. Otherwise, when Mrs. Maxim came and found out that she had left Fleur here unattended, she would definitely be unhappy, even though it was actually Fleur's own fault.

Mrs. Pomfrey ushered Fleur into the room, preparing to treat her injuries.

"My sister likes you—"

With her exquisitely beautiful features, Gabrielle blinked her blue eyes, which were as bright as a hibiscus flower, and whispered in broken English to Amosta.

"Oh, really?" Amosta smiled, crouching down to tidy Gabrielle's bangs. "Did she tell you this?"

Gabrielle shook her head slightly, but then nodded emphatically.

"My sister talked about you all summer. She said you're more special than any boy she's ever met—"

Gabrielle pointed to the robe draped over Amostella's arm and said earnestly,

"Moreover, apart from her father, she would never let other boys' clothes be draped over her."

Chapter 565 Barty Crouch

2023-10-31

Chapter 565 Barty Crouch

Furong's plan to have Amosta spend time alone with her at the school hospital ultimately failed.

Mrs. Maxim arrived at the school hospital quickly. After learning what had happened, she seemed very unhappy, but she couldn't show it. Fleur's injury was undoubtedly related to her own reckless actions, especially since Fleur hadn't been seriously injured—at most, she'd lost a few leg hairs. Perhaps a simple fall would have caused far more serious injuries!

This still made her unhappy, after all, the Triwizard Tournament hadn't even started yet and Beauxbatons' seeded player had run into trouble, which was undoubtedly a bad omen.

To prevent such an accident from happening again, Mrs. Maxim stayed by Fleur's bedside.

Wanting to demonstrate Hogwarts' responsible attitude, Amostella remained by his side until the afternoon, when a light drizzle began to fall, making the atmosphere in the ward even more somber. Gabrielle, who had gotten up early, couldn't bear the boredom and fell asleep on her sister's lap while sitting by Fleur's bedside.

As the older sister, Furong was undoubtedly dutiful. She was worried that the not-so-warm environment in the ward would make Gabrielle catch a cold, so she suggested that she go back to the carriage.

The little girl slept soundly and didn't wake up no matter how much Fleur and Mrs. Maxim moved her. She lay in Mrs. Maxim's arms all the way back to the carriage in Beauxbatons.

"Would you like to come in and have a seat, Mr. Blaine?"

Once Gabrielle was inside the warm carriage, Fleur breathed a sigh of relief. She straightened her repaired skirt and looked at the young man standing ten feet away in the misty, rainy world. Her heart skipped a beat.

Amosta Blaine felt very different to her. Back in Beauxbatons, Fleur had no shortage of suitors, and she had plenty of experience dating handsome men. Amosta Blaine's appearance was merely the least noticeable advantage of this mysterious and powerful wizard.

Fleur's Veela lineage endowed her with a certain keen sense of smell; she could sense that Amosta Blaine had never harbored any romantic feelings for her, which seemed unbelievable to her and even fueled her competitive spirit.

"Thank you for the invitation, Miss Delacour—"

Amosta smiled and shook his head, saying with great grace,

"But entering the living areas of most women is not exactly gentlemanly behavior—"

This was an expected rejection; Amosta Blaine maintained just the right boundaries with everyone, something Fleur had already noticed back in Paris.

"See you tonight then--"

Furong wasn't too disappointed; she smiled sweetly.

"See you tonight, Miss Delacour--"

Amosta nodded slightly.

"May you achieve your dream and become a warrior of Beauxbatons--"

Once the car door closed, Amosta's friendly smile vanished instantly, replaced by a hint of melancholy in his eyes.

If he weren't blind, he would have seen the affection in Fleur's eyes every time she looked at him. This was different from the older young witches at Hogwarts; those teenage girls treated him with more reverence, and they only gave him love letters because they thought it was fun.

But Furong was different. This girl seemed to genuinely want something to happen between them, and she didn't hesitate to express her feelings.

In fact, he could have simply ignored it, but he felt that such a passive approach was inappropriate.

To be honest, Furong doesn't have any problems; the problem lies with him. His identity as a transmigrator and his long-term self-isolation have made Amosta reject anyone and anything that tries to enter his heart, and—

Amosta turned his gaze to the ghost ship floating on the gently rippling Black Lake, his expression slightly cold.

The wizarding world is in turmoil, with many signs indicating that the existing structure and system can no longer quell the growing discontent among the lower classes. Voldemort is about to return, and the thousand-year-long struggle between the legendary wizard Merlin and the four founding members of Hogwarts and Helpo is now surfacing. All of this foreshadows a turbulent future, and Amostella will not allow herself to have any 'weaknesses' at this time.

Calming himself down, Amosta looked around but didn't see Hagrid in the misty, rain-shrouded campus. It seemed that, having been quite frightened, he wasn't in much interest in leading the guests on a tour.

Before the dinner began, Amosta had planned to go back to his office to rest for a while. He had barely slept the night before and had gotten up very early this morning. After the dinner tonight, a fierce argument was expected, and Amosta needed to conserve his energy to deal with the situation.

But things didn't go as planned. Amosta only managed to get a little over an hour of rest before he was woken up by a series of urgent knocks on the door.

"Oh, sorry, Amosta, I didn't know you were resting!"

Professor McGonagall looked at Amos, dressed in pajamas and rubbing his sleepy eyes, with a hint of surprise, but then her expression turned cold, as if she thought his sleeping in his office during the day was a lazy act.

"what's wrong?"

Amosta asked, yawning.

"Is there anything I can do to help, Professor?"