The Return to Hogwarts

"That's good--"

Amosta chuckled. "I thought you were going to return it to me."

Ron's rapidly beating heart pumped blood into his brain, making him feel dizzy. He clenched his fists so tightly that his nails dug into his palms. Never before had Ron felt so humiliated, but even so, he still had to tell them why he had come.

"I... I wanted to return this coin to you. Oh, no, I mean, can I use it to make a request to you?"

“What is it?” Amosta asked calmly.

“I… if I could, I would like to take your class again, Professor Blaine!”

He stammered through the first half of his sentence, but when he finally made his request, Ron spoke with unwavering determination. After pleading with everyone he could, he felt as if a heavy burden had been lifted from his shoulders, and much of the pressure on his shoulders had disappeared.

Ron saw Professor Blaine pick up the coin from the coffee table and fiddle with it between his fingers. A sudden pang of melancholy struck him. This coin was, in a sense, his favorite thing, not only because it was worth a lot of money, but because it represented something.

A long silence suddenly descended, a silence that was incredibly agonizing for Ron, like a trial in which the final outcome was yet to be revealed.

Hermione made the same request to me—

"what?"

Ron, who was anxiously waiting for Professor Blaine to agree or refuse, never expected to hear such a sentence, and he instinctively exclaimed.

“I mean, Miss Hermione Granger came to me hoping I would accept students who had dropped out of PE back into the class, and of course, I know perfectly well who she was doing this for—”

Ron's face showed undisguised astonishment.

"When did this happen, Professor Blaine?"

"Well—, Hermione came to me asking me about this on the very day Dom was born."

Amosta said, looking at Ron who was gaping in disbelief, and smiled slightly.

"Is it unbelievable, Ron? Your friends care about you more than you think—"

Hermione had gone to Professor Blaine to try and get him back into physical education, but why did she never say anything?

Ron fell silent, thinking he must know the reason.

The kettle on the mantelpiece was bubbling and steaming. Amosta got up and went to the fireplace to make himself some tea. Ron turned his head to the side, his gaze following Professor Blaine. The crimson firelight reflected on his face, but it couldn't redden his pale cheeks.

Hermione has already spoken to Professor Blaine about him, so what was the result?

This is a question that needs no further explanation.

Amosta, teacup in hand, strolled leisurely back to the sofa. He glanced at the young man sitting opposite him, his eyes filled with an unspoken disappointment, and sighed softly.

“Take this coin back, Ron—”

Amosta said

“This is a commemorative coin I’m giving you, Ron, but it’s not a wishing coin.”

Ron retrieved the commemorative coin, but his fingertips were trembling. He had foreseen this possibility before coming and was prepared not to regret it even if he was rejected. However, when the moment actually arrived, a huge sense of loss overwhelmed him like a flood, making it impossible for him to think rationally. In fact, Professor Blaine didn't even ask him to leave; he stood up unsteadily and walked towards the door in a daze.

"Let me give you some friendly advice, Ron—"

Amosta stared at Ron until he reached the door before suddenly speaking.

Ron turned around abruptly, looking at Professor Blaine with longing eyes, like a drowning man grasping at a straw!

"--It's never too late to improve if you want to. And you must understand that there's nothing shameful about asking friends for help—"

Chapter 638 The War in the Forbidden Forest

2023-12-07

The weather at Hogwarts provided the best possible support for the first Triwizard Tournament in centuries. The day after the tournament ended, a fierce wind swept in, bringing rain and snow, and the weather didn't clear up for several days. The young wizards had no choice but to stay in various corners of the castle, venting their excitement over the tournament in various ways.

The professors also fully understood that the students needed a buffer period to calm down, so they reduced the workload of homework for the other grades, except for the fifth graders who were still held to high standards.

Amosta, who had gone down to the auditorium for lunch, stood in the foyer and looked outside for a while. The sky outside was so gloomy that it was hard to tell whether it was day or evening. The chill in the air brought a sense of weariness, as if telling everyone that the year was about to come to an end.

At the faculty and staff dining table, Amosta's colleagues had their meals neatly arranged, except for Professors Trelawney and Moody, who were nowhere to be seen. This wasn't unusual, as these two had the highest absenteeism rate, but—

Amosta pulled out a dining chair, looked around, and then looked at Dumbledore.

"Where are Mrs. Maxim and Professor Karkaroff?"

"Our guests at Beauxbatons are clearly not used to the climate at Hogwarts, so Mrs. Maxim has decided to spend the weekend with her students in the carriage—"

Dumbledore said in a regretful tone,

"Mr. Krum's injuries sustained during the game made him equally unable to endure the damp and cold weather, so Professor Karkaroff returned to the ship to be with him."

Amosta nodded, picked up his cutlery to eat, but before he could, he suddenly asked,

"Where is Alastor? In his office?"

This time, it was Professor McGonagall who answered the question.

"Oh, he took some money from me and left Hogwarts early this morning, saying he needed to go to Diagon Alley to buy some teaching materials for his lessons—"

Teaching aids used for instruction?

Amosta raised an eyebrow and looked at Dumbledore, who was calmly sipping his mushroom soup with a silver spoon, clearly aware of the matter.

"What do you think she went to do, Headmaster Dumbledore?"

Amosta tapped the table with his finger, subtly drawing the sound of their conversation to the surrounding area.

"There are many possibilities; I can only try to guess."

As Dumbledore wiped his mouth with a napkin, he spoke.

"Perhaps it's because the wonderful alchemical tools you created made Miss Clona think that it would be very difficult to tamper with the competition, so she needs to find an opportunity to talk to Tom about whether their plan needs to be flexible. Or perhaps, because Severus has been very busy with his storeroom lately, Miss Clona hasn't been able to find an opportunity to get the materials she needs—"

Amosta nodded thoughtfully.

"By the way, Amosta, are you free this afternoon?"

Dumbledore turned his head to look at Amostella, who was starting to eat lunch, and asked.

"What troublesome task is it now, Principal?"

“Oh, don’t think so badly of me, Amosta—” Dumbledore’s every wrinkle around his eyes betrayed his helplessness. “I just hope that if you have the time, you can visit Miss Delacour and Mr. Krum. I think it’s only proper courtesy as the organizers—”

"I believe that having the headmaster personally demonstrate Hogwarts' care for its guests better—"

Amosta remained unmoved.

"Furthermore, I plan to venture deep into the forbidden forest this afternoon—"

Venturing deep into the forbidden forest?

This answer surprised Dumbledore, but he could tell that Amostella had no intention of explaining, so he had no choice but to give up.

Amostah didn't want anyone to see his whereabouts, so he went upstairs in full view of everyone, cast a Disillusionment Charm on himself in a corner where no one would notice, and then went back down to the foyer.

Several days of sleet had turned the Hogwarts campus into a swamp. None of the steeds Beauxbatons had brought out for a walk; they all huddled in the sheds Hagrid had built for them. And not a single person could be seen on the deck of Durmstrang, the entire ship rocking violently with the waves.

Amosta paused for a moment in the middle of the campus, his gaze fixed on the Quidditch pitch.

There, three dark figures were running in circles against the wind and rain, while Sirius Black sat in the stands under the roof, watching the scene with great interest.

Amosta didn't linger for long; he quickly resumed his pace and headed towards the edge of the arena and the forbidden forest.

Suppression is the dominant theme of this vast primeval forest. The dense trees block out the howling wind and the pattering rain, making the surroundings quiet and everything in sight is a dark, almost pitch-black green.

Amosta followed the path Hagrid had cleared into the forest. When the path disappeared and everything became chaotic, Amosta leaped into the air, his body transforming into a phantom shadow as he sped deeper into the woods.

boom!

A flash of cold light streaked across the dark forest, followed by a series of intense, painful clicking sounds.

A tall centaur approached the eight-eyed spider it had pinned to the tree. It stared coldly at the spider, its eight compound eyes trembling wildly in the face of impending death, its expression filled with disgust. With a light leap, it grasped its spear, and with a slight exertion of its powerful arm, the spear detached from the tree and the spider's body.

The eight-eyed spider, which had been pinned in mid-air, fell to the ground with a thud, green fluid gushing from its wound.

puff!

The spear pierced the eight-eyed spider's head, and the annoying clicking sound immediately disappeared.

The centaur touched the eight-eyed spider with its hoof, and after confirming that the spider was dead, it turned to look at its companions behind it.

"These evil creatures deserved this fate long ago!"

“If Hagrid hadn’t insisted on protecting that old spider, we could have driven them out of this forest long ago—”

The other centaur said,

"This time, even if we can't drive them all out of the forest, we'll make sure they never dare to leave the stone pit where they live!"

The centaur patrol complained about the eight-eyed spiders for a while, then formed a line and headed in another direction, not towards their tribe, but towards the location of their Aragog tribe. It seemed they intended to continue hunting the eight-eyed spiders that roamed the area.

Amosta, hovering on the treetop, watched all of this unfold, a sense of unease creeping into his mind.

Centaurs and eight-eyed spiders are both intelligent magical creatures with very strong territorial concepts. Friction between the two races has never ceased. If Hagrid hadn't been mediating all along, a war-like conflict might have broken out between them long ago.

What exactly caused Hagrid's advice to fail to work on the centaurs, leading them to resolve the territorial dispute between the two races?

With this question in mind, Amosta quickly approached the centaur tribe.

Chapter 639 Audacious