The Return to Hogwarts

P.S.: Next, I'll be writing the second storyline. Please give me your encouragement and support!

Chapter 112 Past Events

Late October, early night, 1979.

Located on the south bank of the Firth of Forth, the streets of Edinburgh, the capital of Scotland, are bathed in a joyous festive atmosphere, and even the untimely and out-of-season thunderstorm cannot stop people from celebrating this grand festival.

Despite the torrential rain, Holyrood Palace (Holy Cross Palace) at the end of the Royal Mile was brightly lit. The dense rain curtain draped this ancient palace, steeped in history, in a hazy veil, but it could not hide the grim and bloodthirsty atmosphere surrounding it.

A sharp, piercing sound, loud enough to overwhelm millions of raindrops crashing against the earth, rang out as the palace garage swung open. Thirteen jet-black cars filed out, following a predetermined route, crashing through the rain and disappearing into the night.

Tonight, the holy thorns will defend the glory of the Lord.

In the heart of the new town, a cheerful birthday song emanates from a three-story building with a distinctive Georgian design. Pumpkin lanterns hanging from the eaves outside sway in the wind and rain, their rhythm seemingly celebrating the young owner inside.

Inside the fireplace by the wall, neatly stacked oak wood was burning vigorously. On the opposite wall, a golden apple, edged with mistletoe and adorned with thousands of exotic golden acorns, shone brilliantly in the firelight.

Mr. Hill, leaning against the window frame, turned his gaze from the endless darkness outside to the dining room, where his daughter, dressed in a golden gauze dress and wearing a crown made of woven rattan, sat at the long table, laughing with boundless love in her eyes.

However, the worry on that handsome face could never be dispelled.

"Honey?"

The elegant Mrs. Hill gently brushed her daughter's temples. Noticing her husband's unusual behavior, she hurried to the window while her daughter was talking with her parents, trying to dispel her husband's unease with a smile.

"This is a rare opportunity for family reunion, dear, you should spend more time with your family."

"I'm sorry, Heya—"

Faced with his personal concern, Mr. Hill managed a weak smile. He looked again at the storm raging outside, accompanied by a deafening roar, and after a long while, he sighed heavily.

“I just feel uneasy, Heya. I have a feeling that something is about to happen.”

A slender, delicate hand rested on Mr. Hill's heart, and Mrs. Hill sighed softly as she felt his erratic heartbeat.

I know what you're worried about, darling, but...

Mrs. Hill looked at her daughter, who had jumped into her father's arms and was now acting spoiled, lowered her eyes, and sighed as well.

"This is her wish, dear; she wants to spend her birthday with her grandparents. You know, she has a lot on her shoulders in the future, and I can't refuse—"

Mr. Hill remained silent, gazing at his daughter, who was as lovely and innocent as an elf. In the depths of her light green eyes, there flickered not only heartache but also hatred.

“When I return this time, I want to persuade the teacher to lead all the disciples to move out of the jungle. There are many clues that indicate that it is no longer safe there.”

After a long silence, Mr. Hill spoke again, but what he said made Mrs. Hill frown.

"We've had many people living there. Where do you want to go?"

"The Forbidden Forest at Hogwarts is a perfect habitat for us. Centaurs are no problem; we all revere nature and the stars, and we can get along well with them."

Mrs. Hill removed her hand from her husband's chest, her brow furrowing even more. After a brief silence, she directly exposed the reason her husband was trying to hide.

"You want the protection of that wizard—Albus Dumbledore, my dear?"

"Isn't that the best possible outcome?"

Mr. Hill wasn't surprised that his wife had seen through his little scheme, and he frankly admitted it.

"Dumbledore's power and magnanimity are evident to all. If we can gain his protection, then we will have a chance to catch our breath, and I mean we won't be in such a hurry to get that weapon."

“Under normal circumstances, I might encourage you to try something bold, darling,”

Mr. Hill was interrupted by his wife before he could finish speaking.

“But you and I both know that now is not a good time. Those wizards themselves are facing big trouble right now. That guy they call ‘Mysterious Man’ is causing trouble in the wizarding world, and Albus Dumbledore is overwhelmed with him. If he openly accepts us at this time…”

Rumble!

The blinding flashes of lightning cleansed the earth, and the deafening thunder drowned out the approaching footsteps of death.

Once the buzzing noise subsided, Mrs. Hill continued to express her opinion.

Do you think he would invite another enemy into his life at this time, one that he might not be able to handle even if he used all his strength?

Mr. Hill's breathing quickened. It wasn't that he hadn't considered these things; it's just that he held onto a glimmer of hope.

"Dumbledore is a kind wizard. I think you should know that we were once one with wizards, and he wouldn't stand by and watch someone die."

“That was centuries ago, my dear. We parted ways with them long ago. Perhaps Dumbledore, being of noble character, would sympathize with our plight, but I don’t believe a wizard like him could be so kind as to be foolish. He certainly wouldn’t.”

"Dad, mom?"

The increasingly tense atmosphere of their conversation affected the others in the house. Vitia, who was sitting at the dining table, was reminded by her grandparents and tilted her head, blinking her innocent little eyes as she looked towards the hallway.

"Go and bring your mom and dad back, you lovely little elf--"

"As ordered!"

The gray-haired grandfather whispered something in her ear, and Vitia, alerted, immediately jumped out of her grandfather's arms, her mischievous appearance amusing everyone in the room.

The Hills took a deep breath to ease the slightly tense atmosphere between them. He opened his arms to greet his daughter, whose rosy cheeks were adorned with an innocent smile.

Boom!

At that moment, the earth suddenly trembled violently, and the space above the first floor of the building disappeared as if it had been swung by a giant pendulum. Before the mud and dust could even spread, they were mixed with rainwater and turned into mud.

Suddenly, the world darkened, and a cluster of pure white holy light fell from the sky, nailing itself into the mess!

The crimson blood, the piercing screams, and the icy weeping could not be suppressed even by the rumbling thunder.

"Waaah, I'll get my revenge!"

Amidst the ruins, a little girl stood helplessly weeping among acorns stained with blood. Several lifeless bodies lay before and behind her, their hands limply facing her.

"I will definitely kill you all!"

A tender voice, filled with deep-seated hatred, made an unyielding vow to fate, resolute yet unable to move destiny.

“Evil heretics.”

A cold pronouncement came from the rain curtain, and the chilling holy light flashed again, instantly replacing the darkness that enveloped the world, determined to eradicate any seed of resistance into the soil.

Inside the broken fireplace, the charred oak suddenly burst forth with a dazzling green light. A small sprout stretched its body and grew from the ashes that symbolized death, instantly becoming a towering tree that blocked the holy light that was cleansing the earth.

"I'm sorry, Vitia--"

The old priest, with his blue hair and emerald eyes, ignored the wails of the cultists who had been impaled by the treetops. He walked step by step to Vitia's side, gently putting his arm around her frail shoulders. Rainwater mixed with tears and sweat streamed down his aged face.

"Why, teacher? Waaah, why won't they let us go?"

The little girl could no longer suppress her sobs and burst into loud wails.

"We've almost forgotten where this hatred started, Vitia, and we don't know when it will end."

The old priest's voice was sorrowful, but his emerald eyes revealed a resolute determination.

"The only thing we can do is fight to the end!"

Chapter 113 The Formless Realm

"So."

Standing before the arched water mirror adorned with a ring of golden runes, and waiting for the image to dim without revealing any change in her expression, Vitia turned to look at Amosta, who was scrutinizing her with a complex gaze, and nodded slightly.

“I await you at the temple in the center of the island, Mr. Blaine.”

Having said that, without waiting for Amosta's response, Vitia stepped into the rippling water mirror and completely disappeared from Amosta's magical perception.

call---

A cool evening breeze swept across the plains late at night, and his messy gray hair danced wildly in front of Amosta's eyes, bathed in starlight. However, he made no move, only staring at the gradually calming mirror with a somewhat sinister look in his eyes. Suddenly, he began to hesitate about his decision.

The woman was carrying a greater burden than Amosta had imagined, and he didn't know whether his insistence on unraveling the prophecy's connection to himself, which drove him into this murky water, was right or wrong.

But deep down, a voice seemed to be constantly urging him to enter the world behind the mirror, otherwise he would regret it for the rest of his life. This almost prophetic intuition was so irresistible that it prevented Amosta from turning back.

Buzz--

After hesitating for a long time, Amosta finally stood before the unknown Mirror of Eris. With a buzzing sound, the clear water mirror gradually blurred, and a few seconds later, an image appeared before Amosta's eyes, causing his eyebrows to furrow.

In this frigid world, the snowflakes slowly falling from the gloomy sky and the biting wind, outlined by the snowflakes, seem to be the only moving things on earth. London is frozen in this winter, which is the coldest it has been in decades.

A woman in her early twenties, with her messy hair frozen into clumps, emaciated and dressed in rags, staggered through the city's streets, clutching a swaddled baby. From her despairing, emotionless eyes, it was clear that she had no destination in mind.

The infant, less than two days old, struggled to open its eyes and look up at the sky, its cries sounding more like the whimpers of someone on the verge of death.

Amosta stood before the Mirror of Eris, silently gazing at the shimmering light and shadows reflected in the water. In his heart, memories he thought he had long forgotten surged up like magma. In a daze, he seemed to have returned to that first and most powerless moment since he came into this world.

"sad--"

As a soft murmur faded into the wind, Amosta's voice also vanished from the starlit plain.

Unlike the feeling of being stuffed into a soft tube during Apparition, it felt more like the sensation of time travel. He lost all sense of his body, as if only a ball of thoughts enveloped in bubbles was traversing the ocean of space at an unimaginable speed.

In this state, time is imperceptible and immeasurable. Amosta can only drift along with the current. His 'vision' is locked on the white orb in the far distance that seems forever out of reach. His consciousness is gradually lost in the monotonous howling sound.

bite.

Like waking from a dream, the ethereal and crisp sound of wind chimes suddenly rang in Amosta's ears, stirring up his dormant consciousness once again.