The Return to Hogwarts

And, to fill your empty collection room, you spent quite a few gallons to get a new shipment of contraband from Kakus?

Amosta slowly stood up, looking down at the viewer with a chilling gaze that seemed capable of freezing a black lake.

"Who do you think I am, Malfoy, good-natured Dumbledore? Who gave you the audacity to spout nonsense in front of me? Are you just some cold, hard gold coins?"

Chapter 105 Despair

Malfoy suppressed his boiling panic and tried to force a mocking smile to show how ridiculous Amostella's contempt for the power of money was, but he suddenly realized that he could no longer move, not only his mouth, but every part of his body.

Suddenly, the noisy bar fell silent. The aromas of various foods, the rich drinks, and the body odor of the customers all disappeared!

Like an eraser in the void that can 'erase' reality, everything in the bar, which is dominated by black and gray, gradually loses its full shape, leaving only a framework made of lines. The world quickly falls from three dimensions to two dimensions, and those remaining frameworks also disappear rapidly under the interference of a mysterious force.

What was happening before his eyes was beyond Malfoy's understanding of magic. He stared dumbfounded at everything that had vanished before him, his thoughts seemingly frozen.

This is a world filled with boundless pure white, without any distinction between up, down, left, or right, like a universe that has lost its color.

Lucius blinked, and as he came to his senses, he found that he had regained control of his body, but he was still unable to move. This was because many cold chains had sprung from the stone chair that had appeared beneath him, firmly fixing his limbs and neck in place, as if he were being judged.

Two purple suns suddenly appeared directly in front of him, perhaps right in front of him, or perhaps at an infinite distance. The outlines of a person gradually emerged from the pure white. In a few seconds, Amosta appeared in this pure white world. He looked down at the trembling Lucius Malfoy, his indifferent gaze like a fire dragon staring at the cursing goblin in front of him.

Under the deathly gaze, Lucius broke out in a cold sweat, but once he regained his composure, he immediately realized the enormity of his mistake.

Since the fall of Voldemort, the second Dark Lord, the British wizarding world has been at peace for a long time. In the daily lives of ordinary wizards, there are almost no situations where they have to brandish their wands and fight to the death with others.

In times of peace, money and power are always the most intimidating forces.

As he frequented high-society parties frequented by the powerful and wealthy, and enjoyed the envious glances of half-blood wizards and those low-level wizards of pure Muggle origin struggling to make a living in the magical world, Lucius Malfoy, who had been lost for a long time, suddenly realized his mistake. He remembered a principle he had learned during his years following the Dark Lord, but which he had later deliberately forgotten.

That is, stripping away the disguise of power, the core of it is violence, or rather, force!

The young man before him, who had so easily dealt with the Dark Lord's belongings and the thousand-year-old basilisk in the Chamber of Secrets, was, in some ways, far wealthier and more powerful than him.

"Forgive me—"

Malfoy was never a man of steel; in a very short time, he regained some of his 'skills'—skills he had honed while serving under the Dark Lord.

He wept bitterly, only daring to stare at Amosta's feet, trying his best to imitate Dobby's posture before him, pleading in an extremely humble voice.

"Spare my life, sir, Mr. Blaine, for Draco's sake!"

Da da da--

The increasingly clear footsteps made Lucius tremble even more violently. He wanted to raise his head to observe Amostella's expression to determine if he still had a chance of survival, but he dared not do so, for he feared that Amostella shared the same habits as the Dark Lord.

How could Voldemort, who wouldn't even allow people to call him by his name, casually allow his servants to look directly at his face?

Especially after undergoing a series of complex and dangerous human experiments, his appearance became increasingly unlike that of a human. Voldemort had repeatedly and sternly warned his Death Eaters not to violate this taboo.

But soon, Lucius stopped worrying about whether he could survive, because Amosta had already given his answer through his actions.

Keng!

The sound of the hard spear piercing through the body and then through the stone chair was incredibly crisp. The blood trickling from his abdomen quickly spread across the wizard's robe, like the red spider lilies blooming on the other side of the river, dazzling and beautiful, yet overflowing with a strong aura of death.

The excruciating pain surged through Lucius's consciousness like a tidal wave, causing his body to tremble violently, yet he still dared not raise his head.

"Bypass Narcissa and Draco, Mr. Blaine, I'm willing to give anything—"

Lucius, tears streaming down his face, sobbed as he made his most humble and sincere request in the last moments of his life, but the only response he received was a scornful snort.

"Hopefully this will teach you a lesson, Malfoy, and that this won't happen again."

A cold voice reached Lucius Malfoy's ears as his consciousness gradually faded, filling him with endless doubts as his life force flickered like a candle in the wind.

Judging from the meaning of this sentence, it seems that Amosta Blaine has decided to spare Draco's life out of consideration for him. However, Blaine has already taken action, hasn't he?

The pain from the bronze spear piercing his abdomen felt so real, and the feeling of life slowly slipping away from his body was so utterly disheartening!

Perhaps Amosta Blaine meant that he wouldn't vent his anger on Narcissa and Draco?

As Lucius Malfoy thought this, his consciousness was gradually consumed by the darkness.

"Honey, honey, are you alright?"

A sudden, dim light tore through the endless darkness, as if waking from a dream. Lucius Malfoy stood blankly in his seat behind a pillar, oblivious to his wife's anxious calls and his son's deeply worried gaze.

After a long while, some color returned to his deathly pale face. Lucius stiffly turned his head and found that, in addition to Narcissa and Draco, there were quite a few onlookers around him.

"Mr. Malfoy, are you... are you alright?"

Bar owner Tom squeezed in front of everyone, his eyes pounding as he scrutinized Lucius's face, which was still recovering from a serious illness, and spoke in a trembling voice.

Tom could imagine that if Lucius Malfoy, the illustrious head of the Malfoy family, were to have a minor mishap in his own pub, he would certainly not have a good ending.

Where is that person?

When Lucius finally opened his mouth, he was shocked to find that his voice was hoarse and dry, as if he hadn't drunk water for two or three days.

"If you mean the young guest across from you—"

Tom said respectfully,

"He's been gone for a while now, Mr. Malfoy. Since he left, you've been standing here like a fool, cough cough, I mean, I thought you were pondering something important, so I didn't dare disturb you."

"What's wrong with you, darling?"

Narcissa frowned and stared at her husband, asking in bewilderment.

Draco's expression subtly changed. He knew his father, knew his habitually sarcastic tone when speaking to...some lesser-known figures. If his father spoke to Professor Blaine in that same manner...

"Professor Blaine is a very powerful wizard, Father—"

Draco's voice was filled with panic.

"Moreover, he can be quite assertive at times, especially when faced with offense from others."

"Offensive?" Narcissa glared at Draco, displeased. "How dare you speak to me like that, Draco?"

"Draco—"

Lucius, who had been silent, suddenly spoke up, interrupting Draco who was arguing with his wife. Looking into Draco's confused eyes, Lucius said...

"Professor Blaine, if you ever meet him again, you might as well show him even more respect."

"Professor Blaine has left Hogwarts, Father. He's very mysterious; I'm afraid I won't have many chances to run into him again—"

Draco, not quite understanding why his father would give such instructions, hesitated for a moment before saying regretfully.

"No, he will definitely go back to Hogwarts—"

Lucius's gaze swept past the throng of people, fixed on the deep night outside the door. After a moment of silence, he exhaled heavily and said with absolute certainty,

"He will definitely go back there."

Chapter 106 Return

The last time I returned, it was bitterly cold with heavy snow blocking the door, but now, the maple leaves on both sides of the road have lost their deep red of twilight and are once again full of vitality.

Located on the edge of the city, with abandoned railway tracks embedded in the ground, the narrow streets are still largely unchanged from when I last visited.

Compared to the ever-changing Muggle cities, the dwelling place of the wizarding world seems to have been etched with indelible marks by time. Even in this era where the world changes in the blink of an eye, the mottled marks left by those years still stubbornly adhere to their original intentions and remain unshaken.

The only exception is a six-story building with a sky-blue exterior, shaped like a square, standing out abruptly among the rows of gray, century-old buildings.

Inside the newly renovated iron gate lies a courtyard with a completely different atmosphere.

The courtyard, once covered with earth, is now paved with smooth stone slabs. In the flowerbeds at the corner, vibrant Tudor roses and alfalfa are bathed in the morning light. The golden-pink sunlight sways in the breeze. Gazing at the glistening dewdrops adorning the delicate petals, a sense of ease that seems to sweep through one's soul brings a joyful smile to Amosta's face.

Wearing a black short-sleeved T-shirt, blue jeans, and sneakers, Amosta, dressed like a complete Muggle, stood quietly in the yard. Behind him was a large, somewhat exaggerated suitcase containing the gifts he had promised Mrs. Reagan for the children.

To be honest, carrying such a big suitcase is a very troublesome thing, but there's no other way. He can't exactly pull a folding bicycle out of a handbag.

The clattering and clanging of breakfast noises in the dormitory gradually subsided, and Amosta knew that a large group of children in ill-fitting, worn-out uniforms would soon rush out to start their day's work.

Delivering milk and newspapers, washing dishes at breakfast shops—this is pretty much what childhood is like for children in orphanages. Amusta did similar work when he was here in his early years.

Of course, he soon grew tired of these tedious and low-paying jobs and turned to doing some more technically demanding 'business'.

For example, doing homework for children at a grammar school a few miles away in the heart of the old town, using one's "superpowers" to escort bullied children to and from school, or reselling small trinkets that children might find interesting.

The last option offered the highest pay, but Amosta gave it up after a short time. While there were no "city management" officials on the streets of Britain, Muggle police officers or government inspectors also played a role in maintaining the city's appearance.

Time is a magical vessel that can transform unpleasant events from the distant past into fine wine, turning bitter memories into sweet ones.

"Experience is more important, Cage. Even if there are more residents on East Street, I guarantee I can complete the mission faster than you!"

A crisp, spirited voice came from the foyer, snapping Amosta out of his reverie. He raised an eyebrow and a smile that was brighter than the golden sunlight appeared on his lips.

When the children who had been crossing the foyer one after another saw the tall, handsome young man standing in the courtyard, they froze in their tracks, and no one responded even when the little ones stuck in the foyer urged them loudly.

"Brother Amosta?"

The little brown-haired boy at the front of the crowd rubbed his eyes and muttered incredulously.

Good morning, little ones!

Amosta grinned and opened his arms.

Summer weather is as unpredictable as a teenage girl's temper. The sky, which was clear and blue in the morning, suddenly turned into a torrential downpour. The sewers, which hadn't been renovated for decades, couldn't handle such a rapid flow of rainwater. Before long, the stone streets were flooded with water that was ankle-deep.