Hogwarts Homecoming

The morning light, which has transformed from gray green to light gold, has climbed onto the roofs of the villagers.

There are rows of houses, and occasionally the smoke rising from several chimneys blends in with the morning mist drifting from the mountains and streams in the morning.

Hogsmeade was still sleeping after a noisy night.

Tents housing stricken wizards and allied forces not only crowded the spacious central streets of Hogsmeade.

Even the camping tents were booked on the gentle slope behind the post office, and even the screaming shacks were hastily cleared to accommodate personnel.

A cold and wet north wind came with morning fog, taking away the sunshine from this piece of land, and scattered snow drifted in the air filled with sorrow and confusion.

Amosta looked towards a large tent in the square.

Narcissa wiped Lucius's cheek with sad calmness, and Draco took off his father's mud-stained shoes and put on a pair of brand new boots.

Her husband, his father, was a decent wizard.

Lucius Malfoy, who was sleeping peacefully, had a contented smile on his face.

Perhaps he was happy that he had protected his son.

Perhaps he was proud that his death would ensure the prosperity of the Malfoy family for the next century.

The outline of Amosta's soul moved slightly, and he couldn't help but feel sad.

No one can control all events, not even him. On the contrary, it is precisely because of his intervention that the fate of many people has changed.

Lucius is like that.

According to the original work, he could have lived until Voldemort was finished and could have seen his grandson born and going to school.

Of course, his intervention also brought good endings to some people.

For example, Remus and Tonks.

The pregnant Tonks couldn't bear the fatigue and fell into a deep sleep on a soft bed in a warm tent.

Remus sat on the small stool with his head buried and his cheek resting on his wife's warm palm, dozing off.

The couple could see their son being born.

On the sofa in the same tent, Amelia was nestled in Sirius's arms.

The two of them slept uneasily, with a trace of worry between their brows.

The entire Weasley family lived in a small tent with a single bedroom.

Ginny and Lavender occupied the bedroom, and the rest of the family made the floor in the living room.

"Don't let your guard down!"

The sudden shouting that came into the tent made Ron, who was sleeping, frown. He muttered something dissatisfied, turned over and fell into sleep again.

"Everyone's resting, Alastor--"

On the broomstick heading towards Hogwarts, Kingsley, who had also stayed up for two days and nights, said gently to Alastor.

Amosta looked at a tent in front of the Three Broomsticks bar.

Fleur, whose fair cheeks were stained with mud, was also sleeping in Madame Maxime's arms. Hagrid was sitting outside the tent door, wrapped in a moleskin coat, his head hanging down and snoring. He was guarding the door for the two ladies.

The Hogwarts staff were all gathered in a tent, and old Barna was here.

But they weren't resting.

"Two million galleons and at least four months—"

Old Bana said to the worried faculty and staff in a hoarse voice,

"It is only possible to build a wizarding school that initially meets the requirements if Hogwarts can no longer be used."

"Is it possible to compress time further?"

Professor McGonagall said sadly,

“Children cannot go four months without school!”

The faculty members all said this, but Severus did not intervene in the conversation. He sat on a low stool and stared at the Pig's Head Bar in the alley through the open tent curtain with a dazed expression.

Amosta couldn't help but want to give him a hug.

However, he resisted the urge.

It's not a good time to meet yet.

He 'floated' into the alley and stopped to stare at the stone carvings left by Merlin and the war depicted on them.

You could say that was the root of it all.

Amosta sighed and entered the dim Hog's Head Bar.

The tent was crowded, and there were people lying on every table here. Aberforth was also taking a nap on the bar.

Vitiya was lying on the bed, her brows furrowed.

Her cheeks were still pale and bloodless, and her green hair turned into the color of late autumn grass.

She used her own body as a bridge to pour into the Whomping Willow the divine power she had accumulated over more than a dozen centuries of devout prayers to nature by druids.

This was completely beyond her ability, causing her vitality to be severely damaged.

However, there were still some Ministry of Magic strikewomen guarding her in the bedroom.

The mistakes she made in the Quidditch World Cup finals and Voldemort's problem will probably take a lifetime to wash away.

Amosta finally arrived at Dumbledore's room.

There are three people in the room.

Except for Dumbledore who was breathless on the hospital bed, Harry and Grindelwald were sitting on both sides of the square table against the wall.

Harry lay down on the table to rest.

Amosta pursed his lips when he saw the Hogwarts school emblem on the back of his right hand.

For the first time, Amosta's soul state was noticed.

Please...you...Collect_6Ⅰ9ⅠBookⅠ(Six\\\\\\Nine\\\\\\Book\\\\\\!)

Grindelwald, who had been watching Dumbledore silently, moved his eyebrows, and his focused eyes pointed at Amosta who appeared in the center of the bedroom.

"Is it you?"

Grindelwald said, with a hint of confusion and shock in his voice.

"It's me."

Amosta's voice rang in Grindelwald's heart.

"Amosta--"

Dumbledore on the bed suddenly opened his hazy eyes, turned his head with difficulty, and laughed hoarsely,

"You are here?"

Amosta nodded, looking at the dying Dumbledore, the melancholy and sadness in his heart turned into a smile at the corner of his mouth,

"Great, Headmaster Dumbledore. It seems that you have figured out everything, right?"

"You know I am good at coughing, this."

Grindelwald walked over, helped Dumbledore up, and patted him on the back gently.

"--After all, you have arranged everything, haven't you?"

Dumbledore's mouth twitched, looking at Amosta with relief.

Amosita shook his head,

"I'm not that great, Headmaster Dumbledore, I'm just being pushed forward by fate."

"So, are you ready to face your fate now, Amosita?"

Amosita nodded slightly, he looked at Dumbledore, feeling the little vitality left in this old body continuing to pass away. Very little.

Perhaps, in the next second, the greatest wizard of the contemporary era will reach the end of his life.

"Are you going to lie on the bed until you die, Headmaster Dumbledore?"

Amosita asked gently,

"Or are you willing to fight for the world again at the end of your magnificent life?"

Dumbledore's breath was slightly choked, and his gray eyebrows trembled on his wrinkled face,

"Obviously the latter is more interesting. But, cough cough. Amosita, I am powerless. I'm afraid I can't wave my wand once anymore."

Amosita just smiled and said nothing.

"Well, okay--"

Dumbledore chuckled twice,

"If you think I can be of use, Amosta, I am willing to face it with you."

"And me."

Grindelwald said suddenly, staring at Dumbledore and smiling,

"No matter where you go, I will accompany you, Albus."

"Professor Blaine, are you here?"

Harry, who woke up for a while, listened for a while with a confused face.

He could only hear Professor Dumbledore and Grindelwald talking, but he guessed who they were talking to.

Looking at Professor Dumbledore on the sickbed, Harry finally couldn't help asking,

"Where are you going?"