Homecoming from Hogwarts

Dumbledore, with tears in his eyes, sat on the stone like a sad child, exuding a decadent atmosphere.

If outsiders saw Albus Dumbledore, a living legend with countless achievements, looking like this, they would not know how surprised they would be.

Amosta's expression was calm, even though he had just been badly hurt by Dumbledore.

There are always some regrets that will make people regret for a lifetime.

Amosta knew Dumbledore's past, so he was not surprised by the cowardice he showed at this moment.

With a wave of his wand, a low tripod and a wooden table pressed down the overgrown weeds, and Amosita slowly sat down.

The cork of an old wine bottle on the wooden table popped out, and the wine trickled into the crystal glass, reflecting the luster of the moon, and the aroma of the wine filled the liquid.

"This is Aberforth's Firewhisky -"

Dumbledore moved the bridge of his crooked nose.

"That's right--"

Amosta nodded.

"We need a little bit of hot wine to warm us up."

As he spoke, he took a sip of the bloody red wine. The spicy and mellow taste made him sigh in comfort.

Dumbledore also silently picked up the wine glass and took a sip.

"I guess I should say sorry to you, Amosta. I almost screwed up everything."

Dumbledore muttered incoherently.

"I accept the apology."

Amosta said.

The powerful magic gave Amosta a body far stronger than that of ordinary people, but the increasingly biting cold wind still made him feel a little uncomfortable as he did not avoid the cold and heat.

He had no desire to chat, but just sipped his wine and stared at the dilapidated old Gaunt house.

The bloodline of the Slytherin family is still being passed down in the magical world, but Salazar Slytherin's own bloodline will be extinct after a thousand years.

"Don't you need me to explain something, Amosta?"

Dumbledore said, his voice still nasal.

"If you want to share with me the story between you, your brother, your sister, and Grindelwald, I don't think I need to--"

Amosta said calmly.

"Oh, I forgot, you made my past very clear--"

Dumbledore bowed his head and took another sip of his wine.

"That's not--"

Amosta said frankly,

"But there are many rumors about your past in the wizarding world, Headmaster Dumbledore. I just listened to some of them and combined them with my guesses, and I roughly know what the story is."

"I guess you think I'm a fool for making a mistake like that."

There was a gleam in Dumbledore's eyes and a sad look on his face.

"Everyone has a time when they are young and frivolous, and they think they are the hero who saves the world, Headmaster Dumbledore.

Especially for those rare geniuses, they are more likely to lose themselves in the praise of others, lose their awe of the world, and thus make mistakes. "

"But you didn't, did you?"

Dumbledore wiped his eyes and looked at Amosta with a childish smile.
"Please forgive me for seriously comparing you to young Gellert and Tom, and of course, me.

I compared us. We were both troubled by the mistakes we made when we were young, but Amosta, you have never had such troubles. Until now, I still feel curious about a young man who is obviously talented, but is willing to cover up his own brilliance and make himself unknown, and control his life with calm and cold reason.

Dumbledore looked at Amosta curiously.

"How do you do all this?"

Amosta could have been joking.

For example, if there wasn't a dangerous person like you in Hogwarts, he wouldn't have gone to so much trouble to make himself look ordinary.

However, he was still moved by the sincere confusion in the words of the old man who had taken off his disguise.

"I am different from all of you, Headmaster Dumbledore—" Amosita said darkly.

He was a person who did not have an innocent childhood. On the first day he was born into this world, his frail baby body contained the soul of an adult.

This enables him to always look at his talents with a calm mind.

"no the same--"

Dumbledore chewed over these words, a strange light flashed through his half-moon lenses, and his expression was a little odd, but he did not continue to ask questions.

Neither of them spoke any more, but emptied the wine bottles in the chilly wind.

clatter--
The ring that Amosta had been holding on her finger was gently placed in front of Dumbledore.

"I'm sure you're aware, Headmaster Dumbledore, that nothing can bring a person back to life."

Staring at the ring infatuatedly, Dumbledore's pupils became hazy again. His thin body trembled constantly, and he looked as weak as a patient who was dying.

"I shall live my whole life to regret what happened that afternoon, Amosta—"

Dumbledore's voice became hoarse again.

Amosta didn't say anything. He just patted Dumbledore's shoulder gently. When his arm fell, he took out the old wand that Dumbledore had inserted in his pocket.

"I will keep your wand for you for the time being, Headmaster Dumbledore -"

Amosta said,
"To prevent you from doing anything dangerous when you are emotionally agitated."

Dumbledore was stunned and speechless, his fingertips approached the cold ring with difficulty.

Holding the ring setting like Amos Tower, Dumbledore raised the ring to his eyes and stared at the Resurrection Stone inlaid on the ring setting.

Amosita lowered his head and stroked the old wand that was associated with death and blood. Amosita's heart began to beat slightly.

Just like when he first saw the twin snakes staff, his mind was confused by the ambition growing in his heart. This old wand was also conveying something to Amosta, stirring his emotions.

However, in just a few breaths, Amosta's eyes had completely regained clarity.

Grindelwald, who possessed the Elder Wand, still lost to Dumbledore, and every previous owner of it was deprived of the wand by their successors.

For a great wizard of Amosstar's mental ability, the Elder Wand was a hindrance rather than a help.

Compared to the Elder Wand's identity as one of the Three Deathly Hallows, Amosstar's interest in it is more because it is one of the coordinates.

Looking up, he saw Dumbledore still staring at the ring. Amosta stuffed the Elder Wand into his pocket and took a step back.
"Do you know how to use it, Headmaster Dumbledore?"

Dumbledore raised his hand, covered the Resurrection Stone with his slender palm, and rubbed it three times.

A vertical line suddenly appeared between Amosta's eyebrows. He looked away and looked around cautiously.

A force appeared for no apparent reason, as if some force in the higher-dimensional world suddenly interfered with the lower-dimensional world.

The clear air was quickly filled with gray mist, which made Amosta's eyes sharper.

The breath of death.
It was like the gray fog that corrupted the island of Avalon, except that it did not give Amosta the sense of evil.

Could it be that the Resurrection Stone can really bring the dead back from the past? !

Amosta looked surprised.

His research in this area is far from thorough.

A dark shadow appeared in the thin gray mist.

"Ariana."

Dumbledore shed two lines of tears, opened his arms, and stumbled towards the shadow.

The girl had a slender figure, long flying hair, a delicate face like a girl next door, and blue eyes, the symbol of the Dumbledore family. Her eyes were clear and untainted by dust. She was exactly the same as the girl in the portrait hanging in the Hog's Head Bar.

"Ariana."

Dumbledore, with tears streaming down his face, called out to the approaching blonde girl in a dreamy voice.
"Can you ever forgive me, Ariana?"

Ariana smiled without saying anything, stopped at a certain distance, and looked at Dumbledore tenderly.

Amosta's eyelids were almost narrowed into a slit, and his brows were deeply wrinkled.

Who is Dumbledore talking to?
The shadow embodied by the projection of his inner self?
Amosta thought so, but
Amosta pursed his lips. What was that vague, indistinct, weak but real soul fluctuation? ! (End of this chapter)