The Return to Hogwarts

As astute as Kakus Foley was, he had naturally considered this issue long ago, and he couldn't wait to make his assurances.

"The client will not know that Mr. Golden Viper accepted the commission. Although the Board of Directors will know your reputation in the outside world, they will not be able to find out your identity in the underworld from me."

"And what about you?"

Amosta pressed on, "In your plan, you're the only one who will know my identity in both the outside world and the underworld. How can you be sure you're trustworthy?"

"An unbreakable oath, sworn by the lives of every member of the Foley family, to keep your identity secret forever."

Amosta stared intently at Kakus's not-so-young face, without rushing to express his opinion.

"It seems you can get a very large return from this commission, right?"

"That's my personal secret, Mr. Golden Viper."

Kakus seemed confident of victory; he smiled.

"Eight thousand Galleons, plus the school board's gratitude, and perhaps even a commendation from the Ministry of Magic, in exchange for the treasure hidden in Slytherin's Chamber of Secrets—Mr. Golden Viper. This is a very good deal..."

………………

Chapter 4 Before the Grave

Several days of heavy snow buried all the grime on the streets of London's ancient city, but the gloomy sky, which never seemed to clear, seemed to indicate that an even more intense blizzard was brewing. On the old streets, many Muggle cleaners were doing their best to deal with the snow on the roads, working hard to clear a passable path.

Amosta Blaine, dressed in a dark green, worn-out overcoat, stood in the bare courtyard, gazing intently at the unfinished building before him. His pale purple eyes seemed to hold an extraordinary magic.

Unlike the surrounding buildings that exude historical vicissitudes and ancient charm, it was a square, unstyled six-story building, resembling a student dormitory. Each floor had more than a dozen rooms, and one could imagine that it would be able to accommodate quite a few people once it was completed.

"Amosta!"

The calls coming from the street outside the iron gate brought Amosta back to his senses. He turned around and saw the middle-aged woman in a hurry. The smile on her young face was gentle and kind.

Good morning, Mrs. Reagan.

“Oh, you should have given me a heads-up, Amosta.”

After a hasty hug, Mrs. Reagan said in a reproachful tone.

"Oh, sorry, I didn't originally plan to be in such a hurry, but something came up that might keep me away for the next few months, so I came back to check on the progress."

Amosta pursed his lips, his tone relaxed and casual.

"Yes, yes, you're always in such a rush."

Mrs. Reagan looked proudly at the handsome Amosta, the most successful child to emerge from the orphanage in recent years, her face full of satisfaction.

“You don’t need to worry, Amosta. Mr. Parker from the construction team said they’ll be back to work right after the Christmas holidays, and the kids will be able to move into their new home in just two months!”

"Yes, I think that's exactly what they're hoping for."

Amosta smiled, then opened his briefcase, took out two stacks of pounds, and stuffed them into Mrs. Reagan's hand.

Gringotts does offer Muggle currency exchange services, but both the exchange rate and the amount that can be exchanged are strictly limited. Therefore, Amosta prefers to turn his gold coins into gold bars and then exchange them for pounds at a less reputable gold shop in London. This will also result in some unnecessary losses, but compared to doing business with greedy goblins, the losses are acceptable.

"This is the final payment for the project. Please pass it on to Mr. Parker for me."

Mrs. Reagan's lips trembled slightly; she had already said so much thanks, there was no need for further formalities. She carefully tucked the money into her grease-stained apron, her voice filled with gratitude and anticipation.

“Would you like to go see the children, Amosta? They’re really looking forward to seeing you, especially little Hammer. He’s been complaining for days about not keeping his promise to spend Christmas with them.”

"Please apologize to him for me, Mrs. Reagan. I'll bring him a gift during the summer vacation."

"Ok."

Mrs. Reagan's tone revealed obvious disappointment, but she did not try to persuade him further. She knew that if Amosta had the time, he would not refuse to see the children. It seemed that he had indeed encountered something urgent to resolve.

The small talk didn't take much time; Mrs. Reagan had to rush back to take care of her hungry children, and Amosta only stayed a short while after Mrs. Reagan left before leaving the desolate courtyard.

He walked eastward along the newly cleaned street with steady steps. The old buildings on both sides of the road, which were filled with countless childhood memories for him, did not slow his pace.

Only when passing a ten-foot-wide river did I stand on the dilapidated arched bridge and gaze for a moment at the frozen surface of the river before heading towards a wasteland planted with sparse white birch trees.

In the middle of the wasteland was a cemetery surrounded by a dilapidated fence.

"Sweeped away by a whirlwind."

Amosta didn't take his hand out of his pocket; he just moved his lips. Several small tornadoes suddenly rose from the desolate graveyard, brushing away the snow from the rows of tombstones and the black-gray pebble island before disappearing without a trace.

"I'm sorry, Grandma Ferrena, I forgot to bring flowers."

Amosta strolled to a white tombstone, bent down to wipe away the lingering icy water from the marble plaque inscribed with the epitaph, then straightened up and quietly gazed at the kind-smiling old man in the black-and-white photograph on the tombstone, muttering something under his breath.

Buried beneath the tombstone is the elderly person who cared for him tenderly during his childhood at the orphanage, and the only family member he has ever acknowledged since he was born into this world as an infant.

Seemingly sensing his sorrow, the owl that had come against the biting wind did not rush to complete its mission. Instead, it perched on the nearest birch tree, tilting its head to gaze at Amosta below, occasionally using its sharp beak to preen its wind-ruffled wings.

"For the next few months, I'll be going back to that school that teaches 'magic tricks.' That school's in a bit of trouble right now, and some people are hoping I can take advantage of the chaos to find something. Frankly, that doesn't align with my personal desires—"

Albus Dumbledore, the white-bearded old man who always pretends to bump into me in the library late at night to remind me that staying up late is bad for my health, wouldn't like what I'm doing now, and I'm not too happy to wander around under his nose... But there's nothing I can do, they've given me so much, it's equivalent to half a year of hard work.

Moreover, after the new dormitory is built, I also hope to help solve the children's education problems—”

The biting wind carried away Amosta's melancholy sigh, but it could not erase the regret from his handsome face.

"Unfortunately, if I could remember the plot, I could probably finish the job as quickly as possible and take the money and leave."

A single, casual remark revealed the deepest secret hidden in the heart of the young man standing in the desolate graveyard.

Yes, Amosta Blaine wasn't exactly a 'native' local; his soul came from a blue planet devoid of any supernatural forces.

Harry Potter was a book he loved reading in his childhood in his previous life, but more than 20 years had passed since he received his Hogwarts acceptance letter in this life, and all his memories were blurred. Even ten years ago, when he received that letter from the owl in his cold room at the orphanage, he thought it was some latest prank.

It wasn't until a man with greasy hair and a greasy nose came up to him and turned his bed into a toilet with a small stick that he realized he hadn't started some kind of urban superhero story in this life.

After that, he desperately tried to recall the Harry Potter script, but all he got were vague terms like Horcruxes, Holy Relics, love and scars, Voldemort and resurrection. What he got was far less than the information he had gathered from his own investigations since entering the wizarding world.

Of course, after mastering his magical skills, Amosta also tried to use unconventional methods to trace back his memories.

But those messages were so stubbornly forgotten that no matter how hard Amosta tried, they remained hidden in a flowing gray mist, as if someone had protected them with unimaginable magic. In the end, after trying many methods and nearly ruining himself, he had no choice but to give up.

"That boy named Potter is in second grade this year, and he still has several years until graduation, so I don't think he'll face the most dangerous situation."

After all, Dumbledore is there—oh, no, the danger comes from Dumbledore…”

call…

As he watched the white mist dissipate in the wind, Amosta's bitter smile froze on his face.

“No matter what world you're in, survival is an extremely difficult thing, isn't it, Grandma Ferrena?”

Fine snowflakes began to fall again from the sky, and the owls on the treetops emitted increasingly impatient low cries. Amosta stretched out his hand towards the sky, and the small piece of paper under the owl's talons whizzed through the gray snow curtain reflected in the dark sky, landing steadily in Amosta's palm.

Mr. Dear Mr. Blaine

I have completed negotiations with the Hogwarts Board of Governors, and they have approved our plan. You need to arrive at Hogwarts before 8 p.m. tonight to present to Dumbledore in person how you intend to investigate the perpetrators of the attack.

Furthermore, Lucius Malfoy firmly rejected the proposal to send an investigator, believing that Albus Dumbledore should be dismissed directly, with the Greengrass family being the only advocate in favor.

Yours faithfully, Kakus Foley

The hasty handwriting clearly showed the writer's anxious mood. The gray owl, having completed its task but not received a reward, let out a dissatisfied cry, flapped its wings, and quickly disappeared into the swirling snowflakes.

Amosta closed his palms, and the note from Kakus transformed into a seed that grew into a cluster of pure white carnations in his hand.

"Did you like this magic trick, Grandma Ferrena?"

The old man on the monument smiled contentedly.

Amosta laughed too. He turned and walked into the snowstorm. After the explosion, the desolate graveyard was deserted, except for a low vow that echoed through the sparse woods.

"Is the train of destiny ready to travel towards the unknown?"

P.S.: Please add to your favorites, recommend, and invest. Thank you! (Chapter 2 will be released before 5 PM)

Chapter 5 The Interview (Part 1)

The ancient castle, which has been passed down for thousands of years and has witnessed the vicissitudes of history, still exudes a mysterious magic amidst the swirling snow. During the Christmas holidays, Hogwarts is much quieter than usual.

In the empty castle, apart from the whispers of the figures in the portraits hanging on both sides of the narrow passageway and the clanging of the standing armor, only Peeves's sharp and piercing singing occasionally broke the castle's tranquility.

Severus Snape's brisk stride billowed his robes into a waving cloak, making him look like a large bat with outstretched wings running on its feet. His gloomy face and pale lips revealed his terrible mood.

"Iced lemonade."

Upon hearing the correct command, the ugly stone monster nimbly jumped to the side, even appearing somewhat flustered, as if it were afraid of something.

Snape strode through the cracked wall, and the moment he stepped into the circular office hidden behind it, his mood inexplicably soured a few more times.

Albus Dumbledore, the greatest wizard of our time, leaned back in his chair. Behind his crescent-shaped glasses, his deep blue eyes, unfathomable in depth, gazed at the high dome of his office. His long, slender fingers rested on his long-legged desk, which was filled with strange alchemical tools and piles of letters awaiting replies.

"Where have you been?"

Snape glanced at Dumbledore's still-on purple travel cloak and spoke bluntly.

“Just going for a walk,” Dumbledore said, withdrawing his deep gaze and smiling gently. “You know, Severus, for an old man like me, it’s very important to keep up with the pace of life.”

“Indeed,” Snape said with a hint of sarcasm, “strolling around for days?”

Snape's reaction was entirely expected. Dumbledore smiled dismissively and asked, "How is Miss Granger?"