The Return to Hogwarts

“Oh, please don’t misunderstand, Mr. Blaine. Fairies value integrity more than wizards, and we don’t usually resort to such tricks, but this group clearly has ill intentions. I’m just doing this as a precaution. Ah, of course, we would never attack Miss Hermione Granger on our own initiative. Your friendship with Mr. Barna is the most important thing!”

"I hope so--"

Amosta smiled, but there was no smile in his eyes.

He believed Engel was telling the truth, not because he believed in the nature of fairies, but because he trusted his own judgment.

Setting down his teacup, Amosta once again perused the magical signatures. After a few pages, a name that caught his eye made him squint and his heart skip a beat.

Jasna Vogel

The list of people smuggled from Kingsley's side showed that, apart from Angus Aeschylus, a total of 47 people had smuggled themselves from Britain to Germany in recent days. They all left the country alone at different times, and one of them was Jasna Rozier.

Vogel and Rozier?

Amosta's brow furrowed involuntarily; neither of these two surnames was simple.

wow-

Amostella moved her fingers, and the contract flew out from a stack of papers and floated in front of Engel.

“May I see what this woman looks like, Engel?” Amosta said.

There's only one way to see someone's appearance, Engel hesitated for a moment, and said somewhat reluctantly.

“Alright, Mr. Blaine, if you insist—”

"Thank you for your cooperation, Engel—"

Amosta smiled gently.

I can assure you that your safety will not be compromised.

As he spoke, Amosta stood up from the sofa and walked to the fairy. Under Engel's patient expression, he took out his wand and placed it on the fairy's forehead.

The method of extracting a fairy's memories is somewhat different from that of a wizard. Amostah carefully pulled out a few strands of slightly greenish silver threads from between Engel's eyebrows. Then, with a flick of the wand, the silver threads burst open as they spun rapidly, revealing a scene before Amostah.

The scene depicts a dimly lit tavern where many people are signing their names on parchment using the tables and benches around them.

Amosta fiddled with the screen with his wand, and with Engel's guidance, his gaze quickly settled on a woman who had already signed her name and was handing the bet to Engel. The woman, dressed in a gray trench coat, fitted blue jeans, and a high-necked black sweater, had an impeccable appearance, but her expression was slightly cold and sharp.

After his gaze lingered on the woman for a moment, Amosta continued to control the rotation of the 3D image. He carefully observed the appearances and expressions of the other people in the bar. It was not hard to see that each of these people who were writing their names was paying attention to Jasna to some extent. Clearly, she held a special position among this group.

“If I want to find this Vogel,” Amosta squinted.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Blaine, there's nothing we can do about that—"

Engel seemed to have anticipated this question, and he responded calmly.

“This Miss Vogel is not a client of Gringotts. Not only her, but all the wizards who placed bets manage their own wealth, so we do not know their current whereabouts.”

Chapter 784 Stop Reporting

2024-03-04

Originating from the northern foothills of the Lausitz Mountains in southeastern Germany, the Spree River flows through broad marshes and plains before finally joining the Havel River in Berlin.

In February, during the flood season, the Havel River was surging. On its wide channel, the rushing waters clung together, forming white, fish-scale-like splashes. Lush spruce trees grew on both sides of the river, and these evergreen plants added a touch of tranquility to Berlin in the early morning. However, they could not dispel the oppressive atmosphere brought by the thick gray smog that permeated the city.

Louise's gaze followed an elderly couple strolling along the riverbank until their figures disappeared into the mist, then she turned somewhat forlornly to the rushing river.

The thick humidity along the riverbank caused glistening dewdrops to form on Louise's long, slender eyelashes. As her eyelashes trembled, the dewdrops rolled off, the icy touch making her uncomfortable. She quickly wiped them away, but in doing so, she lost all interest in staying there to admire the scenery of this city she had never visited before.

Walking into the riverside woods, after a few steps, a small wooden house appears and disappears behind the foliage.

Located in the suburbs of Berlin, the house they stayed in was specifically built to rent to tourists. There are quite a few similar accommodations in the area, and for the sake of tranquility, the houses are far apart.

Reaching the door, Louise hesitated and did not push it open immediately.

Today is my third day in this city, through that thing called a door key.

This amazing way of traveling thousands of miles in an instant was beyond Louise's imagination. If Muggles could also use this method to travel, the whole world would be transformed.

Of course, this method is not without its drawbacks. When traveling by Portkey, it feels like being flushed down a high-speed swirl toilet. I don't know how those wizards can endure such a terrible feeling. At least after her first Portkey trip, she not only vomited all over the place, but also lay on the sofa for two hours before she recovered.

The wizard undoubtedly possessed enviable abilities, and in the past two days, Louise had almost bitten her tongue in surprise countless times.

She saw Kingsley wave his wand—what wizards call a magic wand—and the fireplace burst into flames; she saw Kingsley make a cleaver cut potatoes crookedly without even going near the kitchen; she saw him make clothes rub themselves in the laundry tub until they were tattered.

"Sorry, I'm not very good at household magic--"

After magically wringing out one of Louise's coats, Kingsley remained silent for a while before speaking with a hint of apology.

In short, wizards possess all sorts of incredible abilities, but in some ways, they are also quite backward.

When Louise saw Kingsley using a quill to write a letter on parchment, she was stunned for a long time. A quill—in their society, that had been obsolete for at least a century. Moreover, she couldn't believe that wizards would use owls to deliver letters.

Why not use a phone?

Seeing this, Louise mustered her courage and asked Kingsley, pointing to the telephone that had turned black on the sofa.

"If you have an urgent matter to contact someone, it is much more convenient to use the phone than to write a letter."

"Telephones are indeed convenient, but most wizards aren't used to using them, Louise—"

Kingsley said in a low voice,

"Muggle technology is difficult to popularize among wizards. Of course, we also have easier ways to contact others—the FlooNet—"

Kingsley uttered a new term that Louise didn't understand, pointing to the fireplace blazing brightly, and said...

"But we can't use it now. The Floo network within our borders is under strict surveillance by the Ministries of Magic of each country, and we entered the country illegally. Using the Floo network would most likely expose us—"

Louise nodded as if she understood, suppressing her desire to learn more about the 'FlyNet'.

Although Amosta was the higher-ranking wizard between the two, at least in terms of personal style, he seemed more approachable and reassuring towards her. Kingsley, on the other hand, was taciturn and intimidating at first glance. He spent most of his time in the house busy with his own affairs, which dashed Louise's hopes of finding out more about magic and Amosta.

sough--

A strong gust of wind from the river made the spruce trees around the cabin sway their branches and leaves vigorously, making a rustling sound. Just as Louise had a chance to cover her hair, she heard a gentle voice suddenly coming from behind her.

Why don't you go inside?

Louise gasped, then turned abruptly. When she saw Amosta Blaine walking towards the house along the cobblestone path, her expression brightened, but she quickly composed herself and pursed her lips.

"Oh—well, I was just about to go in—"

Click——

Kingsley, who was inside the room, seemed to sense something. Before Louise could turn the doorknob, he quickly went to the door and opened it first, causing the unsuspecting Louise to stumble.

"You're back, Mr. Blaine!"

Kingsley, tall and imposing, helped Louise up and ignored the disgruntled look she gave him. His gaze passed over Louise's head and fell on Amosta with considerable pleasure.

“Let’s go inside and talk, Kingsley—”

Amosta nodded slightly.

The living room of the log cabin is not spacious, especially after placing a few single sofas with soft pincushions and a low, dark wooden table, the space becomes even smaller, and the brass chandelier shaped like a tire hanging from the ceiling further makes the cramped space feel even more confined.

Amosta stepped onto the thick woolen carpet, looked at the complete reindeer hide hanging on the wall above the stone fireplace, and smacked his lips.

Turning around, he saw Louise standing on a sofa, wringing her hands and looking at him hesitantly.

"Please sit down—"

Taking the teacup Kingsley offered, Amostella sniffed it, and a faint herbal scent wafted towards him. He wrinkled his nose in displeasure, took a small sip of the uniquely flavored tea, and then sat down, casually gesturing to Kingsley and Louise.

Some people truly possess innate leadership qualities, Louise thought to herself as she sat down.

Even though she and Kingsley moved in first, when Amosta appeared, he naturally assumed the role of the homeowner, and she didn't feel any sense of incongruity.

Without exchanging pleasantries, Kingsley and Louise's gazes both fell on Amosta's face. Amosta, well aware of their eagerness, took another sip of tea, sighed, and rubbed his temples.

"A new suspect has come into our view—"

Amosta said

"Jiasina—"

Louise's eyes held a sense of bewilderment, while Kingsley's brows twitched almost imperceptibly.

"Jasna Rozier. Is that a name on that smuggling list?"

Angus Aeschylus and Jasna Rozier did not leave Britain together at the same time, probably to avoid being exposed. Kingsley did not question how Amosta had secured the name, but simply chose to believe it.

Rozier

Kingsley chewed on the surname, his face darkening. He muttered, "Could it be that there's something behind this?"

"It has nothing to do with Voldemort--"

Amosta said calmly and with unwavering conviction,

"In fact, this witch, Jasna, probably didn't use her real surname in England; her real name should be Jasna Vogel--"

"Jasna Vogel?"

Kingsley's brow furrowed. He vaguely felt a sense of familiarity, but couldn't quite place where he had seen it before.

"Kingsley—"

Amosta suddenly called out Kingsley's name, and after receiving a response, he asked, "You've been writing to Dumbledore these past few days, telling him about the progress of our investigation, haven't you?"

Kingsley looked slightly taken aback. Blaine already knew about this, and he didn't understand why it was being brought up again. However, after a brief hesitation, he nodded.