From Azkaban to Hogwarts.

Karkaroff stated quite frankly that the shops in the villages near the school were school property, and the rent was collected by the school. As the principal, it was extremely easy for him to secure a shop, and passing the relevant qualification tests was a piece of cake. The Ministry of Magic would definitely not refuse him.

More importantly, whether the shop opens or not, it will positively enhance his reputation. If it opens, it shows his discerning eye; if it doesn't, it shows he did his best. As long as the shop is there, his reputation for generosity will remain.

For two young people who dreamed of opening a shop, the readily available storefront was more tempting than a huge amount of Galleons—especially the storefront near the school, which was incredibly popular.

After watching the two of them so overjoyed that they even forgot about the Galon in their hands, Karkaroff nodded slightly. After venting his anger last night, he felt that all the pent-up frustration in his heart over the years had been swept away. Today, he was even more adept at using those intricate little tricks.

"I will urge our professor to get a map of shops in the nearby villages as soon as possible. You need to be prepared and make a selection before the competition ends, otherwise you may have fewer options. Every year after summer vacation is a good time to open a shop."

He nodded kindly. "Alright, go catch up on your sleep. You can't keep staying up all night doing research, especially you wizards who haven't graduated yet."

The twins thanked Karkaroff with great joy and left, their minds filled with thoughts of the shop—they hadn't even graduated yet, and they were going to own their own shop, a shop in a village near Durmstrang, which was equivalent to having a large shop in Hogsmeade, something they had never dared to dream of before!

"It's so great that I didn't go home for the Easter holidays!"

"Yes, our most perplexing problem has actually been solved just like that—the shop!"

"We need to display a lot of products, but we still have far too few interesting props. We need to speed up the research and development!"

"Shall we get the fireworks set up first?"

"Actually, learning another language first is a good idea. You know, we need to know some of the local language to open a shop, right?"

"That makes sense! But we can hold off for now. We need to graduate before we can open a shop, otherwise we won't be able to explain it to Mom—there's still a year left, time is passing so slowly..."

The two of them quickly sketched out their future, their eyes full of hope.

"Ah! The Weasley brothers, so you've been here all along!"

A sixth-grade student, whom the two weren't very close, ran over excitedly. "Mr. Filch told me to tell you that starting today, the confinement will be changed to cleaning the hospital's chamber pots!"

-

"It's hard to believe that we were sitting with an unimaginable number of Galleons this morning—now that I think about it, a thousand Galleons is a conservative estimate; we haven't even collected them all yet..."

"Yeah, just to be safe, the two of us haven't even taken any photos yet..."

George responded in a particularly dejected voice, which became even more disheartening through the Bubble Head Curse.

But there was nothing they could do—it was true that they had lay on the gallon for a while in the morning, but now the pile of chamber pots was a real thing.

This is probably what life's ups and downs are like...

“Could you please go and change that chamber pot over there?” Mrs. Pomfrey said kindly, “just don’t make too much noise and disturb the patient.”

"Okay (no problem)!"

The two answered in unison—they were among the students in the entire school who had the best relationship with Mrs. Pomfrey, because their previous dangerous experiments had always forced them to come to the hospital to treat their injuries.

Mrs. Pomfrey nodded and left with a sense of relief—she knew these two guys well; although they liked to play pranks, they never did anything dangerous in the hospital.

With permission finally granted, the twins had time to break the Bubble Head Curse and chat about other things. "Speaking of which, what was going on with that fire last night? Professor McGonagall's explanation was completely different from the truth... Could Peeves be lying to us again?"

"God knows, it's always playing pranks, and it loves to dig holes in our words... We'd better slow down. Seriously, if Filch sees us going back early, the toilet's probably not going to escape unscathed..."

"That's true, but speaking of which, the professor's fireworks display was really ugly..."

Fred couldn't help but chuckle softly.

"Keep your voice down!"

George nudged him and then pointed in a direction.

When Fred quieted down, soft sobbing could be heard. Curious, the two of them walked to the ward and pulled back the curtain. They saw Harry lying there and Cho sobbing quietly.

"Crying and sobbing...it's so troublesome..."

Fred looked away and then at George—he could read in George's eyes the message that he should hurry up and finish cleaning the toilet and then sneak back home.

-

"I really want to spend the holidays with you. Home is so annoying; even before school starts, my mom is already getting annoyed with me..."

"Me too, my mom keeps saying it..."

Have you missed me?

...

After a conversation that seemed tiresome to those around them, Ron and Lavender finally stopped talking and sat down in the Hogwarts Express box.

Fortunately, they didn't do anything more outrageous, which made the Gryffindors breathe a sigh of relief.

"I wonder if anything interesting happened during the holiday."

"What's new? It's just more customers, but Christmas is over, and what else is there for Easter besides a few colored eggs?"

"That's not necessarily true. Fred and George both stayed at school; maybe they'll tear down a toilet, or plant a giant Christmas tree at the castle gate or something..."

These were all things that seemed like something the two of them would do, so laughter quickly broke out, and even Ron in the private room laughed without a care.

The train was filled with this scene—after a short holiday spent at home, the children were itching to try their hand at spellcasting again, so everyone was eager to get back to school.

But when the Gryffindors happily returned to the castle and prepared to go back to their common room, they found sleeping bags scattered all over the hall.

"Oh, you're back too?"

The person asking the question wasn't focusing on the fact that you came back at all; instead, it seemed like they were eager to announce what you regrettably missed.

Soon, all the Gryffindors learned of something remarkable.

"What? The lounge was burned down?"

"It's great that no students were seriously injured."

"That's right, and many were severely damaged, so the fourth-grade boys basically have to sleep on the floor. The fifth grade was also affected to some extent and needs reinforcement—but Professor William has temporarily converted several empty classrooms for the fifth grade to live and study in..."

"We'll take the clothes and belongings back and tally them up. The school said they'll provide a certain amount of compensation based on the amount lost..."

Everything seemed normal. If there was anything wrong, it was that all the students were grinning from ear to ear, as if the fire was happening not in their own break room, but in someone else's…

Chapter 483 Awakening and Search

"My head...it hurts so much..."

When Harry vaguely regained consciousness, he felt as if his forehead was about to split open.

Then he felt his lips were extremely dry.

What's wrong with me?

He paused for a moment, then immediately recalled the scene he had just encountered. He subconsciously moved his arm and reached for his wand.

'hiss…'

Not knowing what had gotten into him, Harry gasped and then sensed the difference in his surroundings.

It was pitch black all around, but based on his fairly extensive experience, he was clearly lying in a ward at the school hospital.

'I...survived?'

He paused for a moment, then, enduring the pain, prepared to get out of bed—the scene he had just witnessed was too horrible, and the fate of the mysterious, repulsive creature was still unknown, so he had to notify the principal or professor as soon as possible to prevent something even more terrible from happening.

He forced himself to stand up and immediately noticed a large pile of dark things next to his hospital bed—probably candy and fruit, and the square things next to it were probably various greeting cards or similar items.

Unfortunately, he didn't have time to look. Harry forced himself to stand up, touched his wand, and said, "Fluorescence."

As his wand lit up, Harry confirmed his suspicions. He smiled and tiptoed toward the door, but his stealthy approach stopped before he even reached the hospital entrance.

With a soft snap, Dumbledore, dressed in a bathrobe, appeared at the entrance of the university hospital, wand in hand, and only lowered his wand after confirming that it was Harry.

Good evening, Harry.

“Good evening, Headmaster,” Harry put down his wand. “I have something very important to tell you. That mysterious figure that appeared the other day could very well have been Voldemort!”

"Shhh."

Dumbledore wagged his finger. "Otherwise, if Madam Pomfrey is awakened, our conversation may not be able to continue."

"Ah."

Harry nodded heavily, and with difficulty, he moved his feet toward his hospital bed and sat down, while Dumbledore sat in a chair that he had pulled over.

“Your judgment is correct, Harry,” Dumbledore said, looking at Harry. With a wave of his hand, a small orb of light appeared in mid-air, illuminating the area. “We have confirmed that he is indeed Voldemort, and to our delight, we have killed him.”

died?

Harry froze on the spot—he had never expected to receive such an answer from Dumbledore.

He encountered a similar situation when he was in first grade, but Voldemort had already escaped by then!

"Dead? But he could have escaped alone, couldn't he? And, and he clearly came out of my head, just a tiny, thin fragment, popped out, and then quickly grew into Voldemort's appearance—"

Harry shook his head frantically, unable to understand how Voldemort, if it really was Voldemort, had managed to infiltrate his mind.

Wait a minute—he suddenly remembered something quite important.

In first grade, he clung tightly to Quirrell and then completely lost consciousness. After that, he had no idea what happened. When he woke up, he was lying in the hospital just like he is today.

Could it be that Voldemort didn't actually escape back then, but instead used some kind of escape technique to fool Dumbledore?

This wasn't impossible—his training included techniques to mislead pursuing enemies with traces, then hide and escape at an opportune moment, but Voldemort actually fooled Dumbledore.

“This is what I’m worried about,” Dumbledore said, looking at Harry with a grave expression. He didn’t know how much to tell Harry, and after thinking for a while, he decided to tell Harry part of the truth in a more tactful way. “Perhaps we are facing more than just Voldemort.”

"More than one?"

“Yes, more than one—but there’s more we’re investigating, Harry.”

Dumbledore looked at Harry. "I will tell you as much as I can, but you must keep it a secret from everyone, Harry."

The word "can tell" made Harry a little unhappy; it was treating him like a child. But the images of "the training methods that are currently most suitable for you" flashed through his mind instantly.

The memory brought back by his body instantly dispelled his dissatisfaction. "Yes, Principal."

"Well then, go and rest. Sirius has seen you. The card and gift are there, but I suggest you look at them tomorrow. For now, all you need to do is get a good night's sleep."

Dumbledore nodded and pointed to a pile of things beside the bed.

He left quickly, leaving Harry lying obediently in bed, and the greeting card he had opened.

Well, after all, he is an exceptionally talented Gryffindor—and what Gryffindors excel at most is saying no to the professors' advice.

-

"Don't worry, Big Foot, we've seen him, and his injuries aren't serious—"