The Return to Hogwarts

Villeneuve immediately and decisively said,

"I can swear that all the information I have provided about these masters is true!"

Ten minutes later, Golden Viper took the parchment handed to him by Willorens, glanced at it, rummaged around in his cloak for a moment, and then handed him a money bag containing 1,400 Galleons.

"Good luck, Mr. Golden Viper—"

The curtain was lifted, and Willorens waved at the Golden Viper, a strange smile on his ugly face.

“If there’s anything wrong with this list, I’ll come back to you, Willorence—”

Golden Viper gave the shop owner a long, meaningful glance, and then strode away amidst his apologetic smile.

Chapter 754 Leaky Cauldron

2024-02-11

London, as dawn breaks.

With the Christmas holidays over, London, a world-renowned city, has returned to its usual rhythm.

Perhaps because people have spent too much energy on holiday revelry, the Muggles walking along the road in the cool breeze, bathed in the pale morning light, had deep fatigue etched on their pale faces as they headed to work.

But no matter what, on the banks of the Thames, north of Westminster Bridge, east of the Muggle Parliament House, the large clock tower in the Victorian Gothic style, surrounded by 312 cat's-eye stones, still chimed its distant bells on time, waking the drowsy city.

Drawing back the curtains, Amosta gazed at Westminster Palace through the expensive floor-to-ceiling windows, a cup of green tea in his hand that had gone from scalding hot to lukewarm, lost in thought.

The list he received from Willorens last night was laid out on the gleaming mahogany coffee table behind Amosta.

Two are in Albania, one in France, one in the UK, two in Germany, and the remaining one is far away in Russia.

After a night of deliberation, Amosta decided to prioritize visiting three people from France and Germany. The reason was simple: on the surface, Hermione's inexplicable attack seemed to be related to her status as a warrior, and France and Germany were the main source regions for students of Beauxbatons and Durmstrang, the two magic schools.

Although he did not believe that Mrs. Maxim and Karkarov would do something so unwise.

I don't believe the attack was caused by an individual's extreme behavior, but one undeniable fact is that after the first round of the Triwizard Tournament, Hermione had the most haters in both countries.

The spotless glass window reflected a slightly tired face. Amosta stared at his blurry reflection in the glass, reflecting in his heart.

For some time now, he had focused most of his energy on thinking about Voldemort's imminent return to the wizarding world, on Merlin's actions before his disappearance over a dozen centuries ago, and on the memories shown to him by the four leaders of Hogwarts. He had completely forgotten that in this real wizarding world, danger did not come entirely from the things he was worried about; unexpected situations could occur at any time.

He shouldn't limit his thinking to those few issues, but should broaden his horizons. After all, he is different from Dumbledore, whose only goal for the rest of his life is to kill Voldemort.

After taking a deep breath, Amosta exhaled, leaving a fine layer of water droplets on the glass window. He glanced at the tea in his hand, which was only slightly warm, and instead of taking another sip, he released the cup, letting it slowly float to the coffee table.

Then, Amosta opened his arms, and the coat hanging on the rack behind the door flew over with a whoosh and fell onto his body. The parchment on the coffee table folded into squares and scurried into the coat's pockets. As Amosta adjusted his cuffs, the leather shoes on the shoe rack also clattered over on their own.

Whoosh--

Amostella was waiting for his shoelaces to tie themselves when suddenly, as if sensing something, he snapped back to reality, his wary gaze fixed on the glass window, where his wand had already fallen into his palm.

A shimmering silver object appeared in the distance of the pale vision. In just a few breaths, it was outside the room and passed through the glass without any obstruction, landing on the ground in front of Amosta.

"Good morning, Mr. Blaine. I hope I haven't disturbed your rest."

Looking at the lynx moving gracefully on the ground, Amosta raised his eyebrows, and then a loud, deep voice rang out, asking who it belonged to.

"Kingsley?"

Amostella twitched his fingers, and his wand retracted into his sleeve. A strange glint flashed in his eyes.

"So, the Ministry of Magic finally tracked down where that package came from?"

Seemingly sensing the displeasure in Amosta's tone, Kingsley said with a hint of apology,

“I apologize for the delay. You know, the package addressed to Miss Hermione Granger didn't have a return address, and it took us time to find its origin. Mr. Blaine, we've surrounded the area with men. Minister Fudge and Ms. Burns instructed us to report any progress to you immediately—”

Amosta remained silent, waiting for Kingsley to reveal the location.

“We found out—” Kingsley paused, the consciousness residing within the Guardian Angel somewhat puzzled by Amosta Blaine’s current calm, but he didn’t question it, simply stating the answer.

"The answer is surprising, Mr. Blaine, the package came from the Leaky Cauldron—"

The package sent to Hermione had no address, something Amosta discovered after the incident yesterday. He anticipated that whoever did this would have taken great care to avoid being exposed, so he changed his approach to investigating the source of the incident.

But perhaps it was his and Dumbledore's demeanor yesterday that made the Ministry of Magic fully aware of how annoyed Hogwarts was about this matter.

In just one night, the Ministry of Magic located the place where the package was sent.

Leaky Cauldron—it was indeed an unexpected location, but Amosta, upon receiving the answer, did not show much joy. He merely pondered for a moment and then nodded slightly.

"Thank you for your efforts, Kingsley—"

The probability of getting the answer directly is almost zero, but that doesn't mean it's unimportant. Amosta nodded.

"I'm coming right now--"

Amosta didn't consider the confusion and unease that would arise when the Muggle room manager discovered the guest hadn't checked out and had mysteriously disappeared.

With one step, Amosta vanished into the distorted air, reappearing in the real world at the Leaky Cauldron.

In the early morning, the rays of the rising sun in the east leaped over the low back wall of the Leaky Cauldron bar, casting shadows on the bar's dark floor.

At this time of day, Broken Axe Bar is usually not very busy. Only a few hotel guests leisurely come downstairs to enjoy breakfast. Occasionally, someone will enter the bar, but they are merely passing through the Muggle and magical worlds, hurrying in and out without lingering.

But today was different. Half of the quiet bar was packed with people, and everyone there had a sharp and cold look in their eyes.

An indescribable chill permeated the air. A yawning traveler staggered down from the second floor. When he saw what was happening in the bar on the first floor, his hand, which was rubbing his sleepy eyes, froze and he couldn't move. In an instant, the expression on his face changed from peaceful to horrified and terrified!

Gulu!

The sound of the traveler swallowing his saliva was very clear in the quiet Leaky Cauldron bar, and the sudden arrival of twenty or thirty scrutinizing gazes made his legs tremble.

"I'm sorry, sir--"

Kingsley, dressed in a purple wizard's robe embroidered with wide gold stripes, stepped out from behind several colleagues and calmly looked at the travelers at the bottom of the stairs, saying...

"The bar's breakfast service will probably have to be temporarily suspended. We need to take up a little of the owner's time, but it won't be for long. Perhaps you can go back to your room and rest for a while longer."

The passenger nodded so fast it was almost a blur. He didn't dare say anything to refuse, and instead turned and ran upstairs as if he had been granted a pardon. But in the instant he turned to the side, he caught a glimpse of Tom, the bar owner who was being blocked at the bar and was almost unconscious.

"Don't be nervous, Tom—"

In a sense, Tom, the owner of the Leaky Cauldron, was also a well-known figure in the British wizarding world. Kingsley couldn't possibly be unfamiliar with him. After watching the travelers return to the second floor, Kingsley turned his gaze to the bar and smiled gently at Tom.

"We're just here to investigate something, and we'll leave once we've figured things out—"

"I—phew, I don't quite understand, Kingsley—"

The boss, who was severely frightened, lost his remaining hair strand by strand, his eyes were red and swollen, and he looked pitiful with a pout.

"I only have one here --"

boom--

A sudden sound came from the small courtyard behind, and the experienced Aurors immediately recognized it as the sound of an Apparition appearing.

wow-

More than twenty men dressed in similar black coats flicked wands from their sleeves and pointed them coldly at the newcomers.

These gazes, filled with intense vigilance and hostility, were more blinding than sunlight. Amosta stood at the intersection of the hall and the backyard, his gaze sweeping across the bar before he calmly walked in.

Chapter 755 Unlucky Old Tom

2024-02-12

Upon seeing the young man who entered through the back door, the Aurors in the bar lowered their guard and one after another lowered their wands.

Within the Ministry of Magic, besides the Department of Mysteries, the Auror Office is probably one of the most secretive departments. The people there don't sit in an office; instead, they are out on missions year-round, capturing high-risk criminals or dark wizards.

So, although Amostrae appeared at the Ministry of Magic quite frequently, very few of the Aurors who blocked the Leaky Cauldron actually had close contact with Amostrae Blaine. Of course, they had already heard a lot about him in the newspapers and rumors.

The Aurors on their mission were all serious and expressionless. They watched Amosta Blaine walk in, but the core of their cold eyes was different.

Some people's eyes held deep curiosity, some people's admiration, and some people's eyes were filled with eager anticipation as they looked at Blaine.

Those who are capable of being Aurors have a certain amount of fighting spirit and unwillingness to admit defeat in their blood. Although these Aurors know in their hearts that they are no match for Amosta Blaine, they restrain their desire not to fight Blaine.

Amosta remained calm despite the many strange looks he received, even sporting a friendly smile as he walked past several Aurors and went straight to Kingsley at the bar.

“You’ve come quickly, Mr. Blaine—” Kingsley nodded to Amosta.

“You know I happen to be nearby, Kingsley—”

Amostella spoke gently, smiling at Kingsley. Then, as if suddenly remembering something, she turned to look at the Aurors in the hall, glancing at their faces with a puzzled expression.

"Where are Sirius and Tonks?"

"They've been assigned to St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Injuries and Sicknesses—" Kingsley said in a deep voice.

If Tom still doesn't realize the gravity of the situation, he's incredibly stupid. He doesn't understand why the Ministry of Magic's surrounding of his bar might be because they know he occasionally smuggles contraband or buys drinks of dubious origin at low prices. But what could possibly alarm Amostra Blaine of Hogwarts?

Mr. Blaine

When those pale purple eyes were fixed on him, Tom spoke tremblingly, his back pressed against the wine rack against the wall, the only way he could barely stand, his face showing an expression that looked like he was about to cry.

"Ah, hello, Tom—"

Amos's smile puzzled Kingsley, who was observing his expression. In Kingsley's opinion, Amos's Blaine should have been furious.

"Do we really need to be so tense?"

Seeing Tom's trembling silence, Amosta turned to look at the group of Aurors standing guard behind him.