The Return to Hogwarts

"And the rest, Kingsley?"

"According to our investigation, both Albanians are likely deceased. You may have heard about this; last August, there was an internal conflict among black magic practitioners in Albania. One of the two on the list died in that fight, and the other... Many magicians who frequented Albania fled because of this incident, and their current whereabouts are unknown."

Cough cough--

Amosta scratched his cheek without saying a word.

"--Two Germans,"

Kingsley continued his report,

"According to our understanding, Friedrich Kallen and his disciples went to Greece last month, apparently to explore an ancient ruin. August Raman is a traveler, and our people went to his house at the address provided. His Muggle neighbors told us that he frequently travels to other countries and rarely stays in the country. We searched his house but found no clues about his whereabouts."

Amosta nodded thoughtfully, without saying anything.

Following the winding country path, they gradually approached the windmill by the river. The mill was located on a fenced farm covering more than ten acres, half of which was planted with various vegetables, and pigs and chickens were kept in the enclosures and seemed to be well taken care of.

Next to the mill is a two-story wooden house. Judging from the somber gray color of the wooden planks, this wooden house has probably been there for quite some time.

"Oh, sorry!"

Louise's gaze lingered on the house for only a few moments before her attention was drawn to a stone mill in front of it that turned on its own without any livestock or machinery, completely unaware that Amosta had suddenly stopped in his tracks.

"what happened?"

Some distance from the farm's fence, Kingsley immediately became alert upon seeing Amostella suddenly stop and calmly stare ahead, his wand already in his palm.

"There are some warning spells ahead; I guess they're meant to alert the host that unauthorized guests have arrived—"

Amosta said calmly.

"For a pleasant meeting later, I think we'd better knock on the door first—"

As he spoke, Amosta raised his wand, and a burst of bright fire left its tip, bursting into the guarded area before exploding like fireworks. The sudden explosion echoed far across the plains.

boom--

The reaction was swift; the gentle breeze suddenly became disordered, and after a crisp crack, a small creature suddenly squeezed out of the void and landed in front of Amosta.

"Oh my God!"

The sudden scene startled Louise, nearly causing her to slip into the fields on either side. When she finally saw what it was, her eyes widened involuntarily.

"Is this... a dwarf?"

"In fact, this group is referred to by wizards as -- house-elves --"

Amostella smiled and looked down at the little elf—judging from its loose skin and abundant white hair, this house-elf was quite old, just like Sirius's Kreacher.

Amostah simply looked down at the little elf, maintaining a friendly smile. The old elf, upon landing, initially stared at him with wary and unfriendly eyes. But when it truly saw who the wizard was who had made the noise and disturbed its master's rest, the wariness in its tennis ball-sized eyes vanished, replaced by fear and confusion.

"Amosta Blaine?"

The little elf cried out in a sharp voice that was quite different from its aged appearance. It took a few steps back in fear, its eyes fixed on Amosta, completely ignoring Louise and Kingsley behind it.

“Hello—” Amosta nodded, “What should I call you?”

"Hein--"

The little elf hesitated for a moment, but still bowed respectfully.

"I am Hein, the esteemed Mr. Blaine—"

"Well then, Hein, I'm sorry to disturb your and your master's peaceful life. I think I haven't come to the wrong place. This should be Chairman Anton Vogel's house, right?"

President Anton Vogel?

Kingsley was stunned for a moment, and when he came to his senses, he stared wide-eyed like Louise, his face full of disbelief and utter astonishment.

"Unbelievable! Anton Vogel... I remember now, he's still alive?!"

Shock made Kingsley forget that he should remain silent, and the usually composed man exclaimed in surprise.

The little elf named Hein glanced displeasedly at Kingsley, but it didn't dare to reprimand him, only nodding almost imperceptibly.

"Looks like we're lucky; we didn't go to the wrong place—"

Amusta smiled, but there was no smile in his eyes. He looked at the wooden house that seemed to have been forgotten by time, and unconsciously, his tone became tinged with solemnity and authority.

"Could you please pass on a message, Hein, and tell Chairman Vogel that Amosta Blaine is visiting and hopes to speak with him in person—"

Chapter 787 Old Friend

2024-03-06

Amosta Blaine, in the European wizarding world for the past two years, no one had shone brighter than him. To defy such a wizard's request was undoubtedly a very difficult thing for a house-elf, but Hein still bowed slightly under the immense pressure and said in a tone of utmost apology,

“I’m very sorry, Mr. Blaine, but my master doesn’t wish to be disturbed in his peaceful life. Apart from old friends, he hasn’t received any guests for nearly twenty years—”

"I'm sorry, Hein, but I'm afraid I must see Chairman Vogel today—"

Amosta was not angry; he simply repeated his request calmly, but his resolute stance clearly conveyed his determination to Hein.

The old elf gasped for breath, fear and a faint despair flashing in its cloudy eyes. Its fingers, which hung by its sides and almost touched its knees, trembled slightly, as if it were calculating how likely it was to drive Amosta Blaine away.

But in the end, Hein made a rational judgment.

“Please wait a moment, Mr. Blaine—” Hein bowed to Amosta and then Apparated away in a somewhat flustered manner.

"Unbelievable, Anton Vogel is still alive. I thought he was long gone. Just how old is he?"

After Hein left, Kingsley couldn't contain himself any longer. He was unusually flustered and looked at Amostella with considerable astonishment.

"Well, I'm probably around 110 years old, right?"

Amosta glanced at Louise, whose lips twitched in surprise upon hearing the age, and chuckled as he said...

"Since Dumbledore is still alive, it's not surprising that Vogel isn't dead either, is it?"

Even so, Kingsley still couldn't process the shock this incident had given him, and at the same time, he finally understood why he felt a sense of familiarity when he heard the name Jasna Vogel.

"Don't forget, there's also a Muggle here!"

Louise glanced at Amosta, then at Kingsley, and said indignantly,

"Can someone please tell me who Anton Vogel really is?"

Sixty years ago, he served as the president of the International Federation of Wizards.

Amosta said succinctly.

“Wow, a retired big shot—” Louise clicked her tongue again, then blinked, a little confused, and asked…

"So, you think, uh... Jasna Vogel is his junior, is that right? Oh, how did you figure that out? Vogel isn't a rare surname; one of my classmates in college had that name—"

Kingsley also looked at Amosta, hoping for a convincing explanation, but Amosta only smiled faintly.

"This is just my feeling—"

"Feel?"

Louise wrinkled her nose.

"Alright. But what if this President Vogel doesn't want to see us? You wizards probably wouldn't allow trespassing, would you?"

boom--

Before Amosta could say anything, Hein reappeared in front of him. From the lingering surprise on the elf's face, Amosta knew that he and his group had not been stopped at the door.

"Please follow me, Mr. Blaine—"

The house-elf didn't waste any words. It nodded at Amosta, turned around, and slowly raised its long arm, erasing something in the void.

Louise heard the sound of chains snapping in the void, and then Amosta strode forward, following the ugly, poorly dressed dwarf named Hein. Oh, it was an elf!

"I have never been a guest at a wizard's house—"

After passing through the fence, Louise became visibly nervous. She dared not look around anymore, feeling an air of mystery permeating every inch of the surrounding space. She nervously swallowed, turned her head, and whispered to Kingsley, "..."

"Do you wizards have any strange habits? Oh, if this old guild master demands I kneel, I certainly won't agree—"

Hein, walking at the front, heard Louise's grumbling. He turned his head, glanced at her, his wrinkled face twitching slightly, and a hint of disdain flashed in his eyes.

It could, of course, tell that this woman was not a wizard at all. For a lowly Muggle to step into his master's house was undoubtedly an insult to his master. If she hadn't come with Amosta Blaine, old Hein would have thrown her straight into the river.

"Shut up, Louise—"

Kingsley's soft rebuke carried a hint of tension. Anton Vogel, though not beloved by wizards during his tenure, and whose removal from office was even met with cheers for the well-known reason, was still a highly respected wizard who had left an indelible mark on magical history. He was the former president of the International Confederation of Wizards, a position of real power at the time.

Kingsley lacked Amostall's power and status, so he couldn't help but feel nervous facing such a legendary wizard.

Where there are house-elves, the hygiene can't be bad. Although this house is old, it's very clean, and the wooden floor, which bears the marks of time, is spotless.

Although the sun was shining brightly outside, the room, lit only by candlelight, seemed much dimmer.

Stepping into a wizard's home for the first time, and moreover, the home of a once-important figure, Louise could no longer contain her curiosity, stealing glances around. However, after a few looks, her disappointment was palpable. There weren't many magical items in the room; everything was primitive and outdated, as if it were the home of a decaying old man who had long been isolated from civilized society.

Hein led them through the living room to the backyard.

A banyan tree grows in the yard, probably planted when the house was first built. Its huge canopy covers almost a quarter of the backyard, and countless aerial roots hang down from the treetop, making it look like a forest.

At the edge of the shade formed by the tree canopy, there was a deck chair, and an old man wrapped in a bathrobe was lying on it.

This was indeed a very old man. The wrinkles on his face resembled the bark of the banyan tree in the yard. He had a short, easy-to-manage beard on his chin, but like his hair, it was white and lacked luster.

Life was slowly but steadily slipping away from the old man's body, and he didn't have many years left.