The Return to Hogwarts

"Don't be arrogant, Hermione, you're still a long way from Professor Blaine's level!"

After dinner, on her way to the library, Hermione dealt with two third-year Ravenclaw students and felt a sense of unease, but she couldn't hide the smile on her lips.

As night fell, Amosta sat in his office, toying with the bottle of memories in his hand, occasionally glancing up at the surveillance camera on the opposite wall.

In fact, by now, the surveillance wall that Amosta had built at great expense and on which he had placed high hopes has become completely ineffective. Amosta is almost certain that as long as he is still at Hogwarts, the heir will not come out to make any moves again. The only remaining way is to find out how to get any clues that the main characters have in their possession.

The flames emanating from the voodoo doll candlestick behind him had shrunk by half again, and the crimson dragon blood had gradually faded to pink. It would lose its effectiveness completely in about a month. Before that, Amosta had to step down from his position as the professor of defense against the dark magic, otherwise he would have no choice but to bear the curse of the Dark Lord!

On the desk lay the ancient magical research manuscript about memories from Lockhart, which Amosta had taken and had been studying for several days.

Strictly speaking, Amosta's behavior was no different from theft. Under normal circumstances, he would never have done such a thing, but after learning what Lockhart had done, Amosta felt no guilt whatsoever.

It was just a case of double-crossing; it's not like it's the first time he's done it.

Boom boom boom!

The slightly hurried knocking startled Amosta from his thoughts. After hiding everything in his office that was not suitable for others to see, he stood up and went to the door.

"Professor Snape and Mr. Malfoy."

Amosta raised an eyebrow as he looked at Snape outside the door, whose expression was somewhat complicated, and Draco Malfoy, half of whose body was hidden behind Snape.

"Come in, gentlemen."

"Need not."

Looking at Amostella Blaine, who had caused quite a stir in the castle these past few days, Snape's dark eyes rippled slightly. Back when Amostella was still a young wizard, he was certain that this unknown child would one day achieve something that would surprise everyone. However, he really didn't expect that day to come so soon.

Even the most unassuming person cannot hide their dazzling brilliance. Snape was almost certain that it wouldn't be long before the entire wizarding world was amazed by this genius who had suddenly appeared out of nowhere. It was even possible that he would surpass Albus Dumbledore one day in the future.

"This child needs to see you, but he doesn't dare to come to see you alone."

Snape suppressed the ripples in his eyes, grabbed Malfoy from behind and tossed him to Amosta, then turned and left under Amosta's astonished gaze.

"I hope your future won't be like mine, clinging to life in darkness, relying on the remnants of light in your memories. Amosta, you should bask in the sunlight and let your own light shine."

Severus Snape strode away, silently offering his blessings.

Chapter 54 The Eager-to-Learn Malfoy

"If I'm not mistaken, Mr. Malfoy, is this the first time we've met alone in private since the Christmas holidays?"

After Professor Snape left, Amosta led Malfoy into his office. He glanced at Malfoy, who sat across from him at the desk, looking extremely cautious, then lowered his head and sipped the steaming hot, bitter tea in his cup. Since returning to Hogwarts, he had been drinking tea much more often than before.

Amosta doesn't like bitter drinks, but for some reason, whenever he wants something to drink now, the first thing that comes to mind is tea.

"Humans are such complex creatures," Amosta thought to herself as she looked up at Malfoy again.

“You, you’re not mistaken, Professor Blaine.”

Malfoy looked down at his toes, fidgeting as if there were thorns in the cushions of the chair pricking his backside.

Amosta leaned back elegantly in her chair, her fingertips constantly tracing the rim of her glass, smiling as she looked at the sole heir of the wealthiest pure-blood family in the British wizarding world, a family most famous for its adherence to pure-blood theory. Her tone was flippant, even rude.

"Then, Malfoy, what is your purpose in going so far as to ask Professor Snape to come and see me?"

Amostrath had spent seven years in Slytherin and knew all too well how to deal with these pure-blood descendants—trying to gain their approval with politeness was futile, and expecting to earn their respect without showing them a bit of their temper was simply wishful thinking.

Under the immense pressure emanating from Amostella, Malfoy's usual arrogance and contempt vanished completely. Just like Neville in front of Professor Snape, he obediently dared not make a move.

"Actually, it's about that 'Object Manipulation Charm' you showed us in Defense Strategy class, Professor Blaine. I'd like to ask you for the trick to it. I've tried it on my own, but I just can't seem to get the hang of it."

Amosta blinked; Malfoy's answer was indeed somewhat unexpected.

Tap-tap-tap--

Amostella tapped lightly on the desk without speaking immediately. He stared at Malfoy with interest until the young wizard before him was about to turn and flee, unable to withstand the intimidating aura emanating from him, before finally speaking with a light laugh.

"And what is your purpose in wanting to know this spell, Mr. Malfoy? Is it out of a thirst for knowledge, or simply to prove that your talent is no less than that 'Mudblood' lady you speak of?"

Malfoy's expression darkened. In front of Professor Blaine, he couldn't lie and say that the latter wasn't his goal. However, he was also very certain that if he did, although he wouldn't be split in two, he would most likely be kicked out of Professor Blaine's office.

"Heh, it seems you've already realized where the problem lies, Mr. Malfoy."

Amostah rose with a smile, reverting to his usual kind and friendly demeanor, as if the domineering and arrogant wizard from just moments before was not himself.

He strolled to the center of the office, snapped his fingers, and the same stone pillar that had stood in the Defense Against the Dark Arts class earlier that day sprang up from the floor.

“Come here, Mr. Malfoy, let me see your strength.”

The instruction to Malfoy took nearly two hours. He carefully corrected Malfoy's mistakes in the spellcasting gestures and how the magic should be coordinated when the spell was recited.

But in the end, Malfoy was never able to fully master the 'Object Manipulation Charm' that Amosta had created and used so easily in the second semester of his first year.

The reason for this was what he told Hermione in class: for young wizards, the magic required for this spell and their control over magic that is essentially a mental force are far too lacking. This is unavoidable; not everyone is like Amostella, possessing magic far beyond their peers and the powerful mental strength brought about by the superposition of two souls.

Malfoy seemed quite pleased with himself. He looked at the stone chips that he had shaved off with the feathers he controlled, and he could no longer hide his smugness.

"Thank you for your guidance, Professor!"

Malfoy, standing at the door, bowed and expressed his heartfelt gratitude to Amosta.

Before you leave, I have a piece of advice for you--

Amosta returned to his desk and gazed meaningfully at the doorway.

"From beginning to end, there is only one opponent you need to defeat, Mr. Malfoy, and that is your arrogance."

The good weather that had lasted for many days finally came to an end on Saturday morning. The pleasant breeze that had been lingering on the spacious lawn for more than half a month returned to the damp and cold conditions of a month ago. Hogwarts Castle stood in the drizzling rain, facing the snow-capped peaks in the distance through the forest.

As Amosta passed the Quidditch pitch, he was surprised to find several young wizards riding flying broomsticks braving the wind and rain under the low-hanging clouds. Judging from the color of their uniforms, they seemed to be Gryffindor.

"Tsk tsk!"

Amosta, who had been watching for a while, shook his head and exclaimed in admiration.

"Poor Flint, probably only Merlin and God can help him win this year's final!"

When they arrived at the cabin in the Forbidden Forest, Hagrid was behind the cabin, humming a soft song as he bandaged an animal with an injured hoof. The expression on his furry face was incredibly gentle!

"Hippogriffs are known for their bad temper, Hagrid."

"Oh, it's not that hard. Once you find the trick, you'll find that dealing with them isn't difficult at all."

Hagrid was so focused on treating the hippogriff's injuries that he didn't notice who was talking to him.

"This adorable little guy is about to enter adulthood. He fought a tough battle with his companions for mating rights, and ended up with injuries all over his body. I can't pretend to ignore it, otherwise those wounds will fester and ooze pus!"

Most magical creatures possess a more acute intuition than wizards. Under Amosta's intrigued gaze, the little creature lying on the ground with a harpy head and a collar around its neck began to stir restlessly. It seemed to realize that the young man in front of it was very dangerous and was eager to break free from Hagrid's restraints.

"Oh, don't worry, Buckbeak, I'm almost done. Could you please help me get the scissors?"

Hagrid's large, fan-like hand rested lightly on Buckbeak's neck, and no matter how much the hippogriff struggled on the ground, it did not budge.

"Oh, thank you!"

Hagrid took the scissors from a young hand and muttered something under his breath.

"You're welcome--"

Amosta smiled politely. Dumbledore was right; Hagrid, who seemed to have giant blood, did indeed radiate a brilliance that ordinary people did not possess.

The instant Hagrid released his grip, Buckbeak darted away like an arrow, running straight into the Forbidden Forest without looking back. Hagrid was delighted to see his energetic appearance.

"Oh, you seem to be in pretty good spirits, you rascal. Hopefully, this experience won't make you afraid to pursue love. Uh, cough cough! Professor Blaine!"

Watching Buckbeak run into the Forbidden Forest, Hagrid finally turned back with a smile. But when he saw who it was, his bright smile froze instantly, and after a few seconds, it turned into an awkward but polite smile.

"So it's you, Professor Blaine. What brings you here? Ahem, I mean, what brings you here?"

Thank you all so much for the votes. I really wanted to add more chapters, but firstly, the COVID-19 pandemic has left me feeling dizzy and disoriented these past few days, and secondly, I have another project to submit soon, so I really don't have the time. I'm so sorry everyone!

Chapter 55 Aragog, the Hot-Tempered

For Hagrid, the Ministry of Magic's investigators were terrifying because they had the power to send him back to Azkaban.

The school board's investigators are a real problem, because Amosta can expel him from Hogwarts on behalf of the board. Although Hagrid knows that Headmaster Dumbledore will definitely speak up for him, it's still a very troublesome matter.

Amosta and Hagrid trudged through the depths of the Forbidden Forest. Although it was daytime, the dense forest blocked out most of the light from the sky, making the forest pitch black. Amosta had to take out his wand and light it to illuminate his path.

All around was quiet; even if you listened carefully, you could not hear any other sound except for the sound of branches breaking and the patter of raindrops hitting the leaves.

Hagrid seemed to know the place well. He jumped down from a tree trunk that was stuck at an angle, looked around, and then, panting, waved to Amosta.

"This way, Professor Blaine."

Another ten minutes of arduous marching followed. This place had been deserted for a long time, and the ground was covered with a carpet of rotting leaves several feet thick. Every step felt like sinking into a mud pit.

“I think you’re wasting your time, Professor.” Because of his immense weight, Hagrid sank deeper with each step. To ensure he wouldn’t be completely swallowed by the quicksand-like rotting leaves, Hagrid had to cling to the tree trunk overhead as he moved forward.

"I've asked it many times, Professor Blaine, but it still refuses to tell me. It only says that the monster in the castle is a very terrible ancient creature, the natural enemy of spiders. It won't tell me anything else, and as far as I think, it's unlikely it will tell anyone else either—"

"Give it a try, Hagrid."

Compared to Hagrid's disheveled appearance, Amosta's movements were much more graceful. He cast a spell on himself, reducing most of his weight, which allowed him to almost glide forward.

"I can't give up on any clue."

"Then you'd better be prepared, Professor Blaine. Because of its advanced age and inability to move around much, Aragog has become increasingly irritable in recent years. I can't guarantee that I can calm its anger."