The Evil Thoughts of Hogwarts and the Genie

Chapter 88 I see you've already chosen your own death.

Elena Soman pulled her coat tighter around herself and frowned as she walked through the Muggles.

She seemed very uncomfortable, but it wasn't because she had also come to believe in pure-blood theory. This woman was uncomfortable doing anything.

Elena always felt a surge of fear when a Muggle noticed her overly luxurious attire and turned to look at her, as if she had been discovered and was about to be attacked again.

Clearly, she was insecure and lacked confidence. Although she was most often addressed as "the Vice Minister's wife," the center of attention, and showered with compliments, she never felt that she deserved it.

To some extent, Elena despised herself from the bottom of her heart. She knew very well that as a witch, she was pitifully weak; and if she were to be proud of her status as a bureaucrat's wife, she knew far too little.

In modern terms, she was a beautiful woman with a sense of brokenness. But—she was already a mother, and it was difficult for her to wallow in self-pity and be forgiving of herself.

Elena desperately wanted to be a good mother who could protect her son, but she simply couldn't.

Ironically, this contradictory mindset also makes her exceptionally outstanding; a discerning person can easily see that she is different from ordinary people.

As Elena looked at the Muggle platform signs, searching for Platform Nine, a tall figure appeared out of nowhere.

He had arrived beside her:

"Are you lost, miss?" The man had black hair, was impeccably dressed, and was smiling charmingly.

"Platform 9 is a bit hard to find—are you here to pick up your child too?"

Elena quickly moved aside, frowning and covering her chest with her left hand.

She didn't ask how the other person could tell she was also a wizard; Irina hardly realized that this was a problem.

"I'm married," she said abruptly, flashing her wedding ring with a wary and annoyed expression.

"Yes, I'm here to pick up the child—you should call me Madam."

The sorcerer showed no anger; he removed his top hat in apology. His grey-blue eyes remained completely still.

"Yes, yes, madam. How should I address you? I am Alphad, and I've come to pick up my nephew."

Elena frowned, a feeling of disgust rising within her. She had been exceptionally beautiful since childhood, and although she had very little social experience, she had seen plenty of male witches who fawned over her for no reason.

However, this was a Muggle station after all, and she didn't want to cause trouble. She didn't immediately touch the ring to call for help, but simply ignored the other person and walked straight towards the direction of Platform Nine in her memory.

Alfander rubbed his nose sheepishly, but didn't press the matter further. He had always been a playboy, and he had the right to be—after all, his surname was Blake—but he wasn't at the point where he'd have to keep pestering someone after being rejected.

In every sense, this saved his life. Alfred waited a while, making sure the lady had entered platform 93, before heading towards her.

Then he took a nasty fall, nearly breaking his bones by hitting his head on the ground.

"Fuck!" Alphad looked down and found that the laces on his shoes had somehow become fused together, causing him to trip over his own feet and fall to the ground.

He nearly pulled out his wand amidst the bustling Muggles, but managed to calm himself down, angrily ripping his shoelaces and furiously rubbing his head.

"—There's no need for that."

Blake muttered to himself, unaware that he had actually escaped a close call.

The old man who had tricked him snorted coldly and slipped into platform 9% ahead of him. He quickly caught up with the woman who was fleeing as if her life depended on it. The old man stared at Elena's flowing red hair for a while before speaking:

"Hello!"

Elena's shoulders trembled, and she hurriedly pulled out her wand. But as soon as she turned around, she froze.

Many wizard parents had already arrived to pick up their children for Christmas, but no one found the scene particularly strange.

The two stood there for a while, and finally the old man spoke first.

He curled his lip, gave a cold snort, and revealed a rough and rugged demeanor that was completely at odds with his shabby attire:

"I guess you don't remember me, Elena."

Elena shuddered, but replied quickly.

"How could this be? How could this be—" She shook her head. "You are Aberforth, Aberforth Dumbledore."

"I—I really can't remember what you look like, but you look a lot like him, how could I forget?"

She was clearly very nervous, and her words were incoherent, but fortunately, the person opposite her didn't seem to mind. If we're talking about being utterly inexplicable, Aberforth was far more inexplicable than Elena.

"Good, very good. Although I never think I'm much like that guy, ha!" He chuckled, making Elena shift uncomfortably.

"Hello, little girl. It's amazing how much you've grown up! You seem to be doing well; I'm sure you don't regret not coming with me that day. That's good, that's wonderful!"

He spoke in a very sarcastic tone, and Elena, who was not a strong person to begin with, didn't even know how to respond when Aberforth reminisced about the past.

"You've come to pick up your son, haven't you?"

Elena was about to nod when Aberforth uttered the unpleasant second half of his statement:

"That little brat from the Soman family, isn't he? I heard he got sorted into Slytherin, hahaha!"

Elena's face flushed red instantly. She rarely got angry, but when she did, she had a certain imposing presence.

"W-What did you say?!"

An uncontrollable spell shot out from the tip of her staff, shattering with a "crack" against the stone bricks at Aberforth's feet.

The stone almost shattered, causing the old wizard to raise his eyebrows in surprise.

"You—I won't allow you—I won't allow you to talk about my son like that!"

Elena was truly inexperienced in verbal sparring; her tongue was so clumsy that Aberforth had to grit his teeth to keep up with her sarcasm.

By this time, the Hogwarts Express had rumbled into the station, and most of the parents were crowding around the train.

"Fine." The old man forced out two grunts through gritted teeth. "Alright, Elena, whatever you like."

Elena couldn't stand such words. Aberforth's tone was as if he were pitying her, as if Edmund was just a lowly dog ​​that Elena kept—sometimes, or rather, most of the time, Elena hated Aberforth more!

Although Aberforth cared about her in his actions and did not want her to become yet another victim caught between Dumbledore and Grindelwald—Aberforth never respected her personal wishes, never!

She was so angry she was trembling, and looked like she wanted to rush up and scratch Aberforth's old face.

But she didn't do that. The reason was simple: she knew very well that she couldn't beat her opponent, so Elena would never easily provoke him—this was the shamanistic concept: respect for the strong.

However, this doesn't stop a mother from defending her son in front of relatives. What a good boy Edmund is! He loves his mother so much, he's so, listen, so considerate of his mother!

"..." This made Aberforth laugh again. "You make it sound like he'd love you more than his father's money and power!"

"Stop fooling yourself, Elena! His surname is Soman, he's a bastard born of the Malays! How could he possibly abandon his powerful and influential father for you?"