Hogwarts Homecoming

"This - this... is for me?"

It seemed like it took Ron half a lifetime to finish these few simple words.

Amosta finished his glass of wine and was already working on his lunch.

"That's right. In fact, these two badges were in my hand a week ago. Well, Professor Dumbledore's letter to me contained these two badges -"

Ron picked up the badge tremblingly. This small badge seemed to be particularly heavy. It took him several attempts before he succeeded.

There is no mistake, this is indeed a prefect badge.

Ron rubbed the cold-touch badge, breathing heavier and heavier.

Suddenly, he realized something and turned his eyes to Harry.

"Congratulations, Ron—"

Harry also kept staring at the badge in Ron's hand. When he saw Ron looking at him, he quickly used a clumsy smile to cover up his inner disappointment!

Hermione is blameless for getting this prefect badge, but Ron

What are you thinking about, Harry!

Harry warned himself in his heart not to have those boring thoughts. As Ron's best friend, he knew very well that Ron just looked clumsy. He was better than many people thought!

He shouldn't be jealous of Ron, just like he shouldn't be jealous of Hermione for becoming a Triwizard Champion!

Thinking of this, Harry's smile became much more sincere.

"Oh, thank you."

Ron hesitated and smiled, then he turned to Hermione, who quickly restrained her surprise and congratulated Ron.

"You're so handsome, Ron!"

When it was Lavender's turn, the girl didn't shy away from it. She excitedly moved her face towards him, and regardless of Ron's struggle, she held his cheek and kissed him happily!

Of course Luna also expressed her congratulations to Hermione and Ron, but judging from her expression, she didn't take it seriously at all.

"alright."

In a slightly depressed atmosphere, Amosta finished his lunch calmly, wiped the corners of his mouth clean, stood up,

"Goodbye Hogwarts-"

Several people quickly stood up and accompanied Professor Blaine to the tent.

"Oh, right--"

Amosta suddenly remembered, he looked at Harry,

“Since you showed your prowess in the Battle of Diagon Alley, Amelia believes that the Ministry should increase its protection for you.

I told her not to be too nervous, but since something terrible happened again today and you were involved, I thought Amelia would bring it up again. "

"What does the ministry want to do?"

Harry asked.

"Maybe send some people to protect you when you go to Hogwarts--"

Amosta said, then strode into the sunlight.

For a wizard like Amosta, time is never enough.

Handing over some Ministry of Magic matters to Amelia took up most of the last week of August. Of course, handing over matters did not mean that he would not care about anything.

Optimization and upgrading of functions of various departments in the ministry, construction of Diagon Alley, industrial reform in the magical world, maintenance of security and stability in the magical world, and countering the infiltration of dark forces.

He must continue to stand up for Amelia for a series of things, otherwise, nothing can be advanced.

An ordinary night fell like it had for eons in the past, and Amosta, carrying a suitcase, stood next to the red phone booth outside the Ministry of Magic.

Watching the owl carrying Thaksin flying north until it disappeared into the endless darkness.

call.

Amosta tightened his increasingly worn dark green wizard robe, and reluctantly took out his wand and pointed it at the sky——

So

After more than an hour of agonizing travel, Amosta stepped off the Knight Bus with a large bag of chocolates given to him enthusiastically by the conductor.

His eyes wandered around the village, which was only lit by a few dim lights.

Looking in any direction is endless darkness. This small village in the wilderness is as isolated from the world as an island in the endless ocean.

Amosta found himself standing in an abandoned square in this abandoned village. The war monument with the silhouette of a sword behind him was peeling off gravel and was no longer in shape.

After a few moments of silence, he pulled out his wand and waved it.

The circle of weeds surrounding the war memorial withered, and colorful flowers grew out of the cracked earth.

The flowers swayed in the wind, warming the desolate night.

"That's much better--"

Amosta showed his face and looked around again. The gaze in his purple eyes was more targeted.

Then, Amosta locked in his target.

He passed an empty tavern and a row of closed houses, and stopped for a while to admire the two-story chapel in the center of the village.

A few crows fluttered their wings and left the roof of a post office that was still open. Two rows of yellowed sycamore leaves rustled on both sides of the road leading to the most respectable bungalow in the village.

When Amosta set foot on this road, in the dark night, the looming piano music suddenly stopped, and the panicked sound of shelf collapse and some noise came on the wind.

"hehe--"

Amosta chuckled softly. And didn't stop.

He stopped in front of a circle of white wooden fence that surrounded the garden, and took a deep look at the dark house with a faint smell of blood.

Amosta put the suitcase on the ground, tapped it with his wand, and the dark gold lock popped open. A beautifully-shaped packaging box jumped out of the space inside the box and landed on Amosta's open palm. .

Putting the chocolates into the suitcase, Amosta closed the suitcase calmly.

The garden door was open, and Amosta walked directly in and came to the entrance door.

Du, du, du—

The knocking on the door made a scary sound.

No one responded, and the people in the room seemed determined to play dead to the end.

A smile flashed in Amosta's eyes.

The harsh sound of the door hinge turning broke the silence of the night. The door opened, and the cold, turbid breath coming out of the long corridor leading to the living room behind the door made Amosta squint his eyes.

"Ho--"

Amosta sighed in admiration.

He walked along the narrow corridor into the living room, and what he saw made him click his tongue again.

In the messy living room, a grandfather clock broke at his feet, the clock face was cracked, and the pendulum lay a little further away, like an abandoned sword.

The piano fell to the ground, its keys scattered. There was a chandelier nearby that was broken into pieces, and the glass fragments reflected the turbid starlight.

Cushions were scattered everywhere, and feathers stuffed with cushions also occupied every corner of the living room.

"It's terrible--"

Amosta looked at everything in the living room with great interest. He took a step back to avoid the scarlet viscous liquid dripping from the ceiling of the room.

"It seems that I came at the wrong time-"

Amosta sighed regretfully, said something softly, then turned around, left the living room directly, and walked towards the door on the creaky floor.

"etc!"

Just when Amosta was about to step out the door, a voice called stop suddenly came from the living room he had just visited, and the voice sounded a little frustrated.

The corner of Amosta's mouth moved, he stopped obediently, turned around and looked at the living room with a smile.

After some noise and the sound of stepping on glass shards, a bald, fat old man flashed out of the living room and stood at the other end of the corridor, panting and glaring at Amosta.

"Oh, I suppose you must be Professor Slughorn?"

Amosta had a big smile on his face.

"That's great, I thought you were killed!"

"Oh, come on!"

The fat old man said angrily,

"You already knew that I was in the house, didn't you? Phew, speaking of which, how did you know that I lived here? I didn't remember to tell Dumbledore that I had moved?"

"Oh, it's true--"

Under Slughorn's vigilant gaze, Amosta walked back inside with a smile.

"But you told your beloved disciple at the Ministry of Magic, didn't you Mr. Creswell? I found out about your new residence from him-"

Amosta said as he handed the candied pineapple in his hand to the fat old man.

"Mr. Creswell kindly told me that you love all kinds of preserved fruits——"

Glancing at the preserved fruit in front of him, Slughorn's light gray-green eyes flashed with a hint of emotion. However, he made no move and still held a trace of hostility.

"Like Dumbledore, he loves to tease people, right?

You knew I was here, but you didn't say anything, causing me to waste a large bottle of dragon blood. Oh, you know in today's market, a bottle of dragon blood is worth a lot of money! "

"Oh, you didn't give me a chance to talk to you either, did you, Professor Slughorn?"

Amosta smiled slightly and looked at the fat old man with twinkling eyes.

"Of course, I will also be happy to compensate you for your losses. As for dragon blood, I happen to still have a lot of stock here."

Slughorn's face was sullen, and his small eyes stared at Amosta, who maintained a polite smile.

Suddenly for a second, Slughorn laughed smoothly,

"As expected of an elite from Slytherin Academy, he is much more likable than Dumbledore. Please come in!"