HP: Wormwood and Lightning Wood

Exam results were announced on the last day of the term. Harry, Draco, Hermione, and Ron all passed every subject. Hermione's name remained at the top of the class list, followed closely by Draco.

"West, why didn't you get any results?" Harry asked, puzzled.

West pulled out NEWTs' certificate from his ring and casually placed it on the table—the seven striking "O"s almost blinded everyone.

Hermione exclaimed, her expression shattered, "West! This is so illogical!"

West sighed and waved his hand dismissively. "Min, you know my real age. It's not fair for me to take the exam with you guys."

They all knew about West's past, yet Hermione still found it hard to believe that the Somerset family's magic could grant reincarnation. In the end, she could only attribute it all to the magic of the gods.

Meanwhile, Gryffindor won the House Championship again. Dumbledore sat in the teachers' table, his silver beard gleaming in the candlelight.

He said with a smile, "Greed upon Harry's outstanding performance in the Quidditch match—saving his classmate with a superb Patronus Charm—Greedy gets fifty points!"

Gryffindor's scores suddenly surpassed Slytherin's, and the Gryffindor students couldn't help but cheer.

As the scarlet Gryffindor banner fell from the stone wall, Harry stood up. "But, Headmaster Dumbledore, Draco caught me first, or I would have fallen—"

Ron tugged at Harry's robes from below, but Harry remained unmoved. He looked toward the Slytherin table, where Draco was staring at him in surprise, his grey-blue eyes reflecting Harry's open smile.

"Besides, West's patron saint saved the students in the stands, didn't he?"

The students shuddered at the memory of the giant snake that had so brazenly torn apart the Dementors in the stands, but Harry was absolutely right.

Dumbledore's blue eyes, behind his half-moon lenses, rippled with a mixture of helplessness and pride. "...Alright, then for Malfoy's act of bravery and West's Patronus Charm, Slytherin gets a hundred points!"

Dumbledore tapped the goblet with the Elder Wand, and the gold and red decorations of the banquet instantly turned silver and green.

Slytherins cheered with restraint—after all, this was their first House Cup since the Saviors entered the country. The entire hall applauded, warmly welcoming the upcoming holidays.

Snape's thin lips curled into a smile, unable to hide his smugness.

The next day, the students were able to take the Hogwarts Express home.

Harry was somewhat sullen—in order to maintain blood magic, Dumbledore required him to return to the Dursleys' house for at least seven days.

Although West was also his blood relative, Dumbledore and West could not guarantee that Somerset's family magic would not change some of its characteristics. After all, the family magic was too ancient, and so far only West had been shown to have miraculous effects.

Wester might not be able to make blood magic work; they couldn't gamble on a possibility. Harry had to go back to the Dursleys.

Fortunately, West was with him this time.

But it was impossible for the two of them to stay in that small room any longer, so West waved his hand and bought the house next to the Dursleys' house.

Harry can stay here during the day and go back to the Dursleys' house to sleep at night.

West was even more upset than Harry because Snape refused to live with him on Privet Drive, saying he couldn't stand the Muggle atmosphere.

After a week of agonizing waiting, the two brothers were finally able to return to Potter Manor.

On the seventh night, West stood on the Dursleys' steps, waiting for Harry to bring out his luggage.

Aunt Penny stood in the doorway, broom in hand, looking at her long-unseen nephew with a complex expression. "...You've changed," she blurted out, her voice hoarse, "You're not like her anymore."

They all knew who "she" referred to.

"Auntie, I've grown up." West replied perfunctorily.

Seeing Penny lost in thought, he suddenly smiled. "Auntie, I really don't understand you. If you truly missed our mother, why did you lock us in the cupboard in the first place?"

Penny's face paled. "What do you know? I'm doing this so that you..."

"I don't want to know," West interrupted Penny without hesitation. He had no affection for the Dursleys and was unwilling to say more.

Harry was rushing down the stairs with his suitcase when he saw Aunt Petunia's pale face. She took a half step back, and in her daze, she knocked over a flowerpot by the door.

West stuffed a letter containing pounds into the mailbox and left with Harry without a second thought.

Back at Potter Manor, after settling Harry in, West was filled with anxiety and was about to head to Spider's End via the Floo Network when the fireplace suddenly flared up, almost burning West's hair.

Dumbledore and Grindelwald emerged from the flames.

"Where are you going, West?" Dumbledore asked him with a smile.

West took a deep breath. He'd been careless; he'd completely forgotten to disconnect the Floo network link between Potter Manor and the Headmaster's office.

"Headmaster Dumbledore?!" Harry popped his head out from the bottom of the stairs, his face full of surprise, his gaze falling on Grindelwald. "And you are?"

Grindelwald hadn't taken any anti-aging pills for a long time. He was very thin, with silver hair, a sunken face, and deep-set eyes, but still sharp and in good spirits, with glimpses of his youthful handsomeness.

"Harry, allow me to introduce you. This is my beloved, Gellert Hope," said Dumbledore.

Grindelwald laughed smugly, like a naive young man experiencing his first love.

"Oh, hello, Mr. Hope... wait?!" Harry only came to his senses after greeting him, his eyes widening in disbelief.

"What brings you two here?" West asked, taking a deep breath.

"We need to find someone, West," Dumbledore said, squinting, "Horace Slughorn."

"Harry is coming with us."

Harry put his arm around West's, and after a bout of dizziness, they found themselves in an unfamiliar place, like the courtyard of an abandoned village.

"Are you alright, Harry?" West asked.

Harry rubbed his ears, fighting off the urge to vomit. "I'm fine." Actually, he wasn't fine at all; he might never be able to adapt to Apparition again.

Dumbledore laughed and walked briskly ahead of Grindelwald and the other two.

West and Harry returned to Potter Manor at nine o'clock in the evening, and it was now past ten o'clock, and the surroundings were quiet.

They passed an empty tavern and a few houses, and then a church.

"Horace Slughorn, Tom's Potions professor when he was in school," Dumbledore explained to Harry. "We suspect that Tom may have asked him some questions before making the Horcruxes."

They approached a small stone house located in the center of a garden. Although small, the house was exceptionally clean and surrounded by lush flowers, trees, and shrubs.

Wester stopped and noticed that the hinges of the front door were open, and the door was hanging crookedly.

Dumbledore pushed open the front door and walked silently onto the garden path, with the remaining three following closely behind.

"Flash." Dumbledore chanted the spell, and the tip of his wand lit up. The four of them walked through the narrow doorway and into the living room.

Harry couldn't help but frown. The scene before him was a complete mess.

The living room looked as if it had been brutally destroyed and looted; it was in complete chaos. The piano was overturned on the floor, fragments of the chandelier gleamed on the ground, broken glass and porcelain shards were scattered everywhere, and there was hardly any intact furniture left.

There was a lot of dark red, sticky stuff splattered on the wall.

Harry wondered, "Could he have been captured by the escaped Death Eaters?"

Dumbledore didn't answer, but turned to West. "What do you think, West?"

West raised an eyebrow, waved his lightning-struck wooden wand, and the shattered but still heavy chandelier flew up, hanging above an overturned armchair, about to crash into it.

"No!" Harry heard a man scream. He looked closely and saw that the armchair had transformed into a bald, fat old man. He was wearing an expensive nightgown, squatting on the floor, his hands covering his head, staring at West in terror.

West put the chandelier aside.

Grindelwald scoffed, "Clumsy Transfiguration."

Dumbledore laughed heartily. "Hello, my old friend." He stepped forward and helped the old man up from the ground.