Magical Studies at Hogwarts

Old Eric stood behind the bar, wiping the bar with a dirty-looking rag.

There were not many people in the hotel. The magical world's attention was focused on England, and few people would travel to Albania.

There is really nothing to do here.

Italy across the sea and Greece to the east are both stronger than this country with nothing but forests. Those who are still here today are either old people who cannot walk, or they are abnormal.

A few days ago, one came to the hotel.

A woman who is almost forty years old seems to have a bad memory and forgets about everything. She often forgets what she was talking to just a second ago. But what does this have to do with old Eric?

If you give me enough Galleons, what will happen even if you are a wanted criminal?

"It looks like it's going to rain again." Old Mike, who always came to chat with old Eric, said, holding a glass of butterbeer.

It was specially prepared by Old Eric for him, and it doesn't taste that sweet.

"The time has come." Old Eric put the rag aside and poured himself a glass.

"Why didn't you go to England? That's the Quidditch World Cup. If there wasn't this store, I would go there."

"I won't go, I won't go. Haven't you heard that Britain has not been very peaceful recently," Old Mike said. "It is said that a very vicious Death Eater has escaped from prison, and the streets are full of dementors!"

"Nothing! It's over. It is said that the man was wrongly accused and he is not a Death Eater at all." Old Eric laughed.

"Really? When did it happen? Why didn't I hear about it?"

"Just a few days ago." Old Eric and Old Mike clinked glasses, "Didn't my boy go on a business trip to England a few days ago? He mentioned it casually when I wrote a letter."

"That's it... Then I have to go and see it. I don't know if it's too late to buy a ticket now."

"It should still be possible, but the good seats are gone."

"That's okay!" Old Mike took a big sip and burped comfortably, "As long as you can see it."

After chatting for a while, Old Mike left with satisfaction. Old Eric picked up the rag again and wiped the table that had been wiped countless times.

With a deafening thunder, it began to rain. Old Mike checked the doors and windows again. As he got older, he sometimes forgot whether he had closed the windows.

"Dingle bell!"

The doorbell rang, and a short man pushed open the door and entered. He wore a gray round hat, his robe was very torn, and his boots were muddy.

"Is there any room available?" he asked with a strong London accent.

"Yes, two kilos a night and hot water."

"Open a room and give me some food, preferably a bowl of hot soup, the weather is perfect!"

"Three things in total."

The man took out Sanxi Ke from his pocket and put it on the counter, then took a key from Old Eric's hand.

"208, the innermost room, I will send you food later."

The man nodded and went up the stairs to the second floor. Old Eric glanced at him and saw that his legs and feet seemed to be a little awkward and he was limping.

Opening the door, Peter Pettigrew cast a cleaning spell on himself, but the effect was not very good. He had stolen the wand from a wizard's house and did not take advantage of it.

"Damn it!"

Cursing secretly, he found the bathroom, took a simple hot shower, dried his body carefully, cast a cleaning spell on each piece of clothing, and then put it on with satisfaction.

Just in time, old Eric knocked on the door and brought food. A very simple meal, an egg sandwich, a bowl of vegetable soup and a large spoonful of mashed potatoes.

Peter Pettigrew was not picky at all. He wolfed down his stomach, then lay on his back on the bed, and fell asleep soon after.

Suddenly, a pain as if being bitten by countless ants hit Peter Pettigrew. He woke up directly and curled up unconsciously. This kind of pain came one after another like a wave, and it was still changing. The last second

It was a biting pain, and the next second it felt like someone was hitting the bones one by one with a hammer.

He didn't dare to cry out, he bit the cup tightly in his mouth, and his whole body was soaked with sweat.

It took five minutes for the pain to subside, and Peter Pettigrew let go of the quilt he had been biting and gasped for air.

"Cleaned up..."

The cleaning spell didn't have a very good effect as always, but at least it got rid of all his sweat.

"Damn it! Damn it!"

He cursed softly, but he didn't dare to complain at all in his heart. Their identities were different.

One is a humble servant, and the other is a student recognized by the master and the person who is likely to inherit the master's career. Even if he ignores these, his extraordinary magical ability prevents him from having any thoughts of resistance or resentment.

It had been more than half a month. God knows how much he had suffered before he fled from the UK to Albania. He had been hiding all the way. If he hadn't been able to transform into a mouse, I don't know how long it would have been.

Two days ago, when the curse took effect for the first time, Peter Pettigrew almost fainted from the pain. It took him more than an hour to regain some strength afterwards.

At that time, he was still in Croatia, and he hurried to Albania without caring about being discovered. But in the end, it was too late, and he suffered this inhuman pain again.

"Take a day off, just take a day off, tomorrow I will..." He secretly made up his mind, now only the master can save him.

After lying on the bed and relaxing for a while, Peter Pettigrew regained some strength. He opened the door and went downstairs. He needed to eat more.

There were only two people in the hall, old Eric was still behind the bar, and there was a woman enjoying her dinner.

Peter swallowed silently. He had not eaten meat for a long time. But he did not dare to eat it. Although the Galleons in his hand were stolen by him, he wanted to save them and spend them on his master.

"You are... Peter!" Peter looked up from eating a tasteless egg sandwich with a little doubt on his face.

"Oh my god! It's really you! Weren't you killed by...? Thanks to Merlin, it turns out you are still alive!"

"Long time no see, Bertha." Peter Pettigrew recognized this woman, who was her former senior.

"Where have you been all these years? After that incident, they even awarded you a medal!" Bertha Jorkins kept chattering, without even noticing the ever-changing expression on Peter Pettigrew's face.

"Bertha, it's good to see you again. Stop talking about me. How have you been these past few years?"

"Me? It's not bad. I joined the Ministry of Magic after graduation and have been switching between various departments over the years. Now I work in the Department of Magical Sports..."

"The Department of Magical Sports and Sports? They must be very busy right now. Why are you here?"

"Who knows? Mr. Crouch doesn't seem to like me. He gave me a vacation and asked me to wait until the World Cup is over before going back." Bertha suddenly looked a little confused.

"Then why don't you go with me to the forest to the south? I want to find something very important." Peter's eyes stared directly at Bertha's eyes, as if there was a strange magic fluctuation in them.

"Whatever, I have nothing to do anyway." Bertha's eyes were a little dull, and she nodded in agreement. Suddenly, her eyes became a little bright again.

"What are you looking for?"

"Something very important to me..."