The Return to Hogwarts

Amosta Blaine.

"Oh, no--"

Louise clenched her fist hidden in her sleeve, memorizing the name. She felt ashamed of her actions; to be honest, this was the first time she had ever approached a man she had just met on the street!

"I was just wondering—"

Louise was slightly out of breath.

"I'm thinking—Mr. Blaine, where should I go if I want to see you again?"

Amosta blinked, showing neither surprise nor delight, but simply nodded slightly in apology.

“I’m sorry, Ms. Andelle, I don’t visit this country very often. If you’d like to buy me a cup of coffee, you’ll have to wait a long time—”

The refusal in her words couldn't be clearer. Louise nodded dejectedly and left the alley.

Bang! A soft sound suddenly came from the alley, which surprised Louise—at least she could leave a phone number, right?

When Louise rushed back into the alley, the man who had called himself Amosta Blaine was no longer in the same spot. As far as the eye could see, the straight alley was deserted, and the shops on both sides were closed; he couldn't have barged in.

"Damn, do you know magic? How come you're moving so fast?"

A chilly wind rustled up a few old newspapers on the ground. In the deserted alley, only a Muggle girl was stamping her feet in frustration.

“I am Arnold Pisgood, Mr. Blaine. I am a registered deregistrant of the Reversal of Accidental Magic Events Team. Professor Blaine, it is a great honor to meet you. May I shake your hand?”

“Oh, Mr. Blaine, I am Raymond White, and I work at the Apparition Testing Center. Is there anything I can do for you?”

"You must be here to discuss important matters with the minister, Mr. Blaine. If you need, I can go and deliver a message for you!"

A square-faced, short, middle-aged wizard excitedly squeezed in front of Amosta.

"By the way, I'm Eugene Jenkins, I work in the Centaur's Office, hehe, I'm quite free, I have plenty of time to make the trip for you!"

Only when the elevator ascended and those enthusiastic smiling faces disappeared from sight did Amosta, who had maintained a friendly smile throughout, remove her smile and breathe a slight sigh of relief.

After the Quidditch final night, Amosta helped the Ministry of Magic hunt down some notorious dark wizards. During that period, he frequently visited the Ministry, and each appearance caused quite a stir. He thought that after a few months, his popularity would have faded somewhat, but to his surprise, the situation remained unchanged.

Amosta was quite familiar with Barty's office location; after all, the two had worked together when vying for the right to host the Triwizard Tournament. He took the elevator to the fifth floor, to the International Department of Magical Cooperation, and after a series of gasps in the solemn corridor, he finally arrived at Barty's office door.

"Please come in--"

A young man's clear voice, tinged with feigned composure, came from behind the door. Amosta's lips twitched, and he pushed the door open and entered.

Whizzing--

The huge office space was filled with light purple paper airplanes flying around, creating a chaotic scene resembling a plane crash site, while the fireplace inside the room continued to spew out paper airplanes stamped with the Ministry of Magic's seal.

Amosta's gaze lingered at the far end of the office. Old Barty wasn't behind his desk, which wasn't surprising. Under the bookshelf beside his original desk, a new assistant's desk had been placed. Percy Weasley, the third son of the Weasleys, jumped up from his seat the moment Amosta entered the room. He frantically scurried around from behind the desk, while a dozen or so planes circling overhead, seemingly displeased with Percy's lapse in attention, swooped down and pecked at his head.

Clang!

"Oh, damn it, you lot—"

The paper airplanes obscured Percy's vision, and he accidentally fell out from behind the table. He staggered to his feet, but the paper airplanes still wouldn't let him go. The paper airplanes that had been circling around the room seemed to have had enough of waiting and launched an attack on Percy. In an instant, Percy was completely surrounded by countless paper airplanes.

Seeing this, Amosta's lips moved, and he flicked his wand cleanly and neatly, accompanied by a tangible wave that swept through the entire office. As if time had stood still, the paper airplanes that were swept by the wave were suspended in mid-air, and Percy himself took this opportunity to break out of the encirclement of paper airplanes.

His hair was terribly disheveled, and he had also lost one of his shoes in the struggle with the paper airplane.

Percy looked down at the foot on the wool floor, his face flushed, and he rushed into the pile of papers to search for it.

"Bryan Cult... cough cough!"

When Amosta had the paper airplanes lined up in an orderly fashion to the side, Percy, who had finally found his shoes, blushed and straightened his posture. Facing Amosta, he coughed twice, his fist under his lips, and said in a deep voice...

"--I mean--Welcome, Mr. Blaine. Was your journey smooth?"

"Heh heh, things went fairly smoothly, assistant—"

A light smile spread across Amosta's face. He put his wand back in his pocket and, as he walked toward Percy, casually grabbed a paper airplane and glanced at it.

"I'm sorry, if I had known earlier that you were here... Oh, this says the toilet in the restroom near the International Wizarding Federation branch office exploded, and they hope you can go and fix it. Shall I wait for you for a moment?"

Chapter 685 Your Grandfather is Still Your Grandfather (Part 1)

2024-01-10

"What, the toilet?"

Percy was momentarily stunned, then his thin cheeks flushed even redder.

“Oh, that must be a prank. Kadir in the branch office likes to play little jokes on people, like Brian. I mean, Mr. Brian—”

Percy, already half a head taller than Amosta, struggled to stop his chest from moving, his hands nervously smoothing out the wrinkles in his suit jacket.

"Yes, Mr. Blaine, I have received it—"

"Percy--"

Amosta smiled and interrupted Percy, "Do you think it would be more convenient for us to sit down and talk?"

"Oh, of course!"

Percy, who hadn't quite caught his breath, coughed twice. He led Amostella to the coffee table on the other side of the office. Before Amostella could even sit down, Percy plopped down on the cushioned sofa with a thud and stared at Amostella expectantly.

Amosta sighed inwardly, no longer expecting Percy to buy him a drink.

"I have received it—"

As soon as Amosta sat down, Percy eagerly began to speak, but Amosta interrupted him once again.

"How have you been lately, Percy?"

Amos could see that Percy was trying to take control of the conversation, but unfortunately, even if Dumbledore or Fudge wanted to do so, it would be unlikely, let alone Percy, given his 'skill'.

"Oh--"

Percy's face flushed crimson to the tips of his ears. He undoubtedly wanted to speak to Amosta Blaine as an equal, but every time he tried to meet Blaine's gaze, the gentle-smiling Blaine seemed to possess a special magic that always drew his attention elsewhere. Before he knew it, Percy's head had lowered.

"As you can see, I am now Mr. Barty Crouch's personal assistant!"

Mentioning Mr. Crouch, Percy seemed to finally regain some courage, his hands trembling slightly on his knees from clenching his fists so tightly. "Mr. Crouch considered me trustworthy, so he authorized me to handle some of his daily affairs during his sick leave!"

"Oh, really?"

Amosta glanced at the paper airplanes and said with a smile,

"It seems you've gotten quite comfortable with this job, haven't you?"

Percy's newly constructed psychological defenses were shattered by Amosta's words. He still tried to maintain his composure, but his voice was so soft it sounded like a muttering.

“Normally it wouldn’t be this chaotic, Professor Blaine, but last night I substituted for Mr. Crouch in a discussion about Ms. Burns’s proposal to expand the batter corps.”

They argued until the early hours of the morning. Oh, I mean, Ms. Burns and Ms. Umbridge. Ms. Umbridge consistently disagreed with the proposal, arguing that our budget was limited and that the situation in the wizarding world wasn't dire enough to justify investing heavily in training strikers. Minister Fudge remained silent, so their argument continued. I, however, found Ms. Umbridge's arguments more convincing, but no one asked!

Percy suddenly woke up with a start. He looked at Mr. Blaine, who was leaning back on the sofa, listening intently to his mutterings, his breathing rapid.

"Let's talk about your business, Mr. Blaine. You said you're going to visit Mr. Crouch to discuss some matters with him, right? What is it about?"

Percy's change of topic was abrupt, and his tone sounded somewhat rude, but Amosta didn't seem to mind; he nodded slightly.

“That’s true, Percy. I’m very dissatisfied with the Ministry of Magic’s negligence in some matters—”

Amosta's brow furrowed slightly, and his sudden change in tone almost made Percy jump.

"So I wanted to talk to Barty about this, but someone told me that Barty has taken sick leave and that you're in charge of some affairs at the International Magical Cooperation Division. I don't want to scare you, Percy, this is a job that can offend people, so if possible, I'd like to try to talk to Barty in person. Besides, Barty and I are old friends, and it's not right for me to know he's not feeling well and not visit him. So, could you please pass on a message to Barty for me?"

Percy instinctively agreed, but before the words left his mouth, he realized it wasn't what he intended. Just as he was racking his brains trying to figure out how to get Mr. Blaine to tell him what he wanted to discuss with Mr. Crouch and entrust it to him, there was a sudden knock on the office door.

I'll be back soon--

Percy, sweat beading on his temples, breathed a sigh of relief. He could have easily invited people in, but he hurriedly got up to open the door, while Amosta could only sigh softly and wait patiently.

"It's you, Goldstein?"

Percy opened the door, and when he saw who it was, a hint of impatience flashed in his eyes. His tone of voice was completely different from when he spoke to Blaine, and it was arrogant. He even forgot to invite the person into the office, and only opened the door halfway, blocking the person in the doorway to talk.

"Hello, Weasley, I hope I haven't bothered you—"

The voice outside the door sounded somewhat stiff and helpless.

"I came to see you about that matter, I was wondering if you have time to talk about it--"

Goldstein of the International Office of Magical Law glanced at Crouch's office a few times. When he found that Barty Crouch was still not at his desk, he sighed slightly before turning his attention to the Weasley family, the greenhorn who had only joined the Ministry of Magic this year.

"That matter?" Percy frowned slightly.

Goldstein realized Percy wasn't going to invite him in, so he leaned closer and whispered,

"Flying carpet."

"Oh, that's it!" Percy's tone became even more impatient.

“I’ve already said, Goldstein, there’s absolutely no room for negotiation. Ali Bashir was caught red-handed smuggling flying carpets, and fines and imprisonment are inevitable. He must pay the price for his illegal actions!”

"Speaking of law, Weasley!"

Goldstein, standing outside the door, seemed unsurprised by the response. He suppressed his anger and said...

"The Legislative Council did pass a law banning the sale of flying carpets, but you surely haven't forgotten that the law will only take effect in twenty days. So, strictly speaking, Ali Bashir hasn't broken the law. Of course, if you insist, he can pay some fines, any amount is fine, but I think the Azkaban case is still debatable!"

"You're exploiting a loophole, Goldstein!"

Percy said angrily.