The Return to Hogwarts

"Where are Amosta Blaine and Kingsley Shackler from rooms 301 and 502?!"

The hotel manager on the first floor saw a girl with wet hair rushing down the stairs in a panic. She looked around anxiously, and before he could ask her what help she needed, she stormed over to him.

The hotel manager was startled by Louise's annoyed expression. He instinctively took a half step back, his mind blank for a few seconds before he came to his senses.

"Oh, you must be Ms. Louise Andelle?"

Louise grabbed the manager's arms and nodded emphatically.

The hotel manager breathed a sigh of relief, and a professional, polite smile returned to his face.

"Mr. Blaine and Mr. Shackle instructed you before leaving the hotel that if you woke up, please wait patiently inside; they would be back before noon."

"12 o'clock?!"

Louise yelled in frustration. There was still an hour and a half until midnight, and these two had actually abandoned her to investigate on their own. Amosta had promised to let her get involved in the investigation of the killer's whereabouts, but now he had broken his promise. They could have woken her up before they left, Louise thought angrily!

Louise brushed aside the hotel manager and instinctively tried to rush out of the hotel, but when she reached the door, she stopped herself. The gleaming silver glass framed in the dark archway of the hotel reflected her conflicted expression.

She could certainly go to Amosta, but the chances of running into him on such a large campus were slim, and if they came back to find her—

For the next hour and a half, the hotel manager saw a woman in a state of extreme frustration and rage pacing back and forth in the lobby. Sometimes she would go to the Christmas tree, which had been stripped of its decorations, and kick the roots of the tree. Other times she would go to the brass floor planner on the wall and frantically scratch it with her fingernails. When he kindly went up to remind her that she would have to pay for the damage, the blonde woman glared at him with a murderous look.

Every two minutes or so, Louise would glance at the old grandfather clock next to the bar, anxiously waiting for time to pass.

Clang, clang, clang

As the clock struck its tinkling tone, Louise looked eagerly toward the hotel entrance. Without a second's delay, a tall, handsome young man with grey hair, wearing a dark green overcoat, pushed open the glass door and walked in.

The pale light scattering through the glass door made Louise raise her hand to shield her eyes. When she came to her senses, Amosta Blaine was already standing in front of her.

"You're awake, Louise?"

Amosta, with his back to the light and shadow, faces the sun with a smile and steady breathing.

Hmm--

Louise's anxiety, anger, and unease vanished instantly. To the hotel manager's astonishment, almost in a second, the blonde girl who had been on the verge of a breakdown and wanted to burn down the hotel calmed down. She even ladylikedly smoothed her messy hair.

"Yeah, I just woke up a little while ago--"

Louise's voice squeezed out from her tightly pursed lips, barely a whisper. She avoided Amosta's gaze, only daring to stare at his chest, her back taut.

Where is Kingsley?

"Oh, he's still visiting some students connected to that 'interest group' that studies magic. It's not easy, because that student group disbanded a few years ago, and they've all graduated. Most of them have returned to their home countries, and only a small portion are locals. Of those, not many are still in Bologna."

Louise looked slightly surprised; it was already quite an achievement to learn all this in just one morning.

"Um, where's that professor?"

"he"

Amusta was about to answer the question when he was interrupted by the sound of a hotel guest politely asking to move aside.

“Come on, Louise, I bet you didn’t have time for breakfast. I also need to replenish my energy, so we can eat and talk—”

"Shouldn't we wait for Kingsley to come along?"

"He's not so desperate that he can't find a place to eat if he leaves me. I came back specifically to wake you up—"

Amosta said casually, then turned and walked back to the door, waving to Louise with his back to her.

And Louise—

Her heart skipped a beat, and she gave a soft "hmm" before jogging to catch up with Amosta.

Chapter 774 The Fake Wittelsbach

2024-02-27

As a city that holds a pivotal position in Muggle cultural history, this ancient city still retains many ancient buildings from the Renaissance period, such as palaces, city walls, towers, and Gothic cathedrals, while rapid technological advancements have also injected new vitality into the city.

Located at a major transportation hub, Bologna is also a city with a strong industrial base, and its highly developed social welfare system allows the local Muggles living in the city to fully enjoy life.

For a simple lunch, Amosta didn't carefully choose a place to eat; he simply found a casual restaurant on the side of a retro street steeped in cultural heritage.

After a brief exchange, Amosta beckoned to a waiter.

"One serving of shredded pasta, one serving of spiral pasta, and one serving of German sausage. Hmm, if you have chopsticks, please give me a pair, thank you—"

The meticulously groomed waiter with his brown beard glanced at Amosta with some surprise. As a famous tourist city, Bologna often entertains travelers from the East, but it's rare to see a British person with a perfect English accent needing chopsticks.

"Please wait a moment, sir--"

But the waiter didn't raise any questions. Instead, he quickly noted down the guest's special request and hurriedly left.

"Chopsticks?"

Louise pronounced the word with an odd accent. Even though she was an intern at the London Daily News and had a broader knowledge base than most people, she knew what it was, but it was a little strange that Amosta would make such a request.

"This is an excellent eating tool; I prefer to use it when eating noodle dishes—"

Amosta said calmly.

"During a business trip to the East, I came across this kind of tableware—"

Louise pursed her lips and nodded slightly.

Normally, Louise might have discussed the merits and demerits of chopsticks, a tool used by people from the East, with Amosta, but now, that wasn't a particularly noteworthy topic.

"That professor—"

Louise was just about to ask when Amosta proactively told her.

"Felder Wittelsbach, that's his name. Unsurprisingly, he's already left the University of Bologna. In fact, not long after he left, the society Fraser belonged to disbanded. It's very likely that Fraser left with him, though of course, to avoid suspicion, they might not have gone together."

"Wittsbach?"

Louise was stunned.

"I took onomastics as an elective in college, which seems to be --"

"A certain ancient noble surname—"

Amosta nodded.

"But it's hard not to doubt the authenticity of this name, in fact—"

Amosta reached into his pocket, pulled out a photograph, and placed it on the table.

The photo shows a man with short, curly brown hair. His white mustache is more meticulously groomed than that of the waiter who had just served them. He has a broad face, and his black-rimmed, gold-trimmed square glasses add to the professor's wisdom and refined air. He certainly looks like a scholar who is well-versed in research.

Louise frowned slightly as she picked up the photo and placed it in front of her.

It wasn't because she felt familiar with the people in the photograph, but rather because this photograph wasn't a typical snapshot taken by a camera. In Louise's judgment, it appeared to be a drawing created with exquisite sketching skills, then colored and processed with special techniques to produce the final photograph.

She told Amosta her guess, and Amosta simply nodded calmly.

"In fact, during the years that Feld Wittelsbach taught at the University of Bologna, he left no photographs. The photo you see is a hand-drawn one by the police when they were searching for him, based on descriptions from his former colleagues and students. Like the name he left behind, I also doubt the authenticity of this face—"

Louise's eyes widened in surprise. She didn't quite understand everything Amostall was saying, but she quickly grasped the main point.

"wanted?!"

"Oh, the police aren't as useless as you think, Louise—"

Amosta smiled.

"After Wittelsbach left Bologna, the magic research society he initiated quickly disbanded, except for Fraser. As you told me, some members of the society successively met with misfortune. The police investigating this matter are not naive enough to think that this is just a simple accident. Field Wittelsbach is the prime suspect—"

"Have they found him?"

Louise blurted out, and before Amosta could answer, she realized she had asked a very stupid question.

As expected, Amosta shook his head.

"The police made some efforts; they tried to find out where Wittelsbach went after leaving Bologna, but all to no avail. The identity he used had no record of purchasing plane, train, or bus tickets, as if he had left the country on foot."

That's impossible, of course. It's a certainty that Wittelsbach is a wizard, and Muggles certainly couldn't find out how he left Italy.

Even the Italian Ministry of Magic has a very small chance of having a record of it.

Therefore, Amosta and Kingsley did not go there to investigate. After all, they had entered the country illegally. If the Italian Ministry of Magic found out that Amosta Blaine had sneaked into the country without a word and with unclear intentions, it would be strange if the Italian Ministry of Magic did not send all the wizards under its jurisdiction to "politely" invite Amosta to leave.

"I do not understand--"

Louise bit her lip, looking confused.

"If this Wittelsbach didn't want to expose the secret of his evil society, he spared most of them, didn't he?"

The restaurant served the food at a satisfactory pace. The departing waiter brought out their food and the chopsticks that Amosta had requested.

The conversation paused briefly as the two women began to eat. Louise glanced at the man sitting opposite her; Amosta's skillful use of chopsticks and impeccable table manners made him seem like a nobleman who had been rigorously trained in dining etiquette since childhood. Even the young women at the nearby tables frequently turned to look at him, whispering amongst themselves about this English gentleman.

Unconsciously, Louise recalled the absurd decisions she had made the night before. Her cheeks flushed slightly, and she was very grateful that Amosta hadn't mentioned the events of the previous night again. But then, a hint of sorrow appeared in her eyes.

Am I really that bad at attracting attention?!

Louise was slicing up a sausage, feeling resentful.

"This club isn't as simple as you think, Louise—"

Ten minutes later, Amosta put down his chopsticks, picked up a napkin, and wiped his mouth. After taking a sip of lemonade from his azure glass, he said, seemingly oblivious to the stares of the other guests around him, Louise's unnatural gaze, and the jumble of thoughts in his mind.

"--What appears to be a student group simply organized by interests and hobbies actually has a rigorous internal organizational structure--"