Homecoming from Hogwarts

"This... is it for me?"

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

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

"Yes. In fact, I got these two badges a week ago. Professor Dumbledore sent me a letter containing these two badges -"

Ron picked up the badge tremblingly. This small badge seemed extremely heavy. He tried several times before he succeeded.

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

Ron stroked the cool badge, his breathing becoming heavier.

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

"Congratulations, Ron—"

Harry had been staring at the badge in Ron's hand. When he saw Ron looking at him, he quickly used a clumsy smile to hide his inner disappointment!

Hermione had nothing wrong with getting the 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 only looked clumsy, and he was better than many people thought!

He shouldn't be jealous of Ron, just like he wasn't jealous of Hermione for becoming a Triwizard Tournament 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 suppressed her surprise and congratulated Ron.

"You're so handsome, Ron!"

When it was Lavender's turn, the girl was not shy at all. She excitedly moved her face closer, and regardless of Ron's struggle, she held his cheek and kissed him joyfully!
Of course Luna also congratulated Hermione and Ron, but judging from her expression, she didn't take it seriously at all.

"alright."

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

"See you at Hogwarts—"

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

"Oh, right--"

Amosta suddenly remembered, he looked at Harry,

“After your spectacular performance at the Battle of Diagon Alley, Amelia believes that the Ministry should increase its protection of you.

I told her not to get too nervous, but since another horrific incident happened today and you were involved, I thought Amelia would bring it up again."

"What does the Ministry want to do?"

Harry asked.

"Maybe we should send someone to protect you when you go to Hogwarts--"

Amosta said, and then strode into the sunlight.

For a wizard like Amosta, there is never enough time.

Handing over some Ministry of Magic affairs to Amelia took up most of the last week of August. Of course, handing over things did not mean that he would no longer be in charge of anything.

Optimization and upgrading of the functions of various departments in the Ministry, construction of Diagon Alley, industrial reform of the wizarding world, maintenance of law and order in the wizarding world, and anti-dark forces infiltration.
He must continue to stand up for Amelia in a series of matters, otherwise, nothing can be done.

An ordinary night arrived as if it had been billions of years, and Amosita, carrying a suitcase, stood next to the red telephone booth outside the Ministry of Magic.

I watched the owl carrying Thaksin fly north until it disappeared into the endless darkness.

call.
Amosta tightened his increasingly worn dark green wizard robe, and very reluctantly took out his wand and pointed it at the sky.
Then
After more than an hour of agonizing travel, Amosta stepped off the Knight Bus with a large bag of chocolates enthusiastically given to him by the conductor.

Looking around, there were only a few dim lights on the village.

There is endless darkness in every direction. This small village in the wilderness seems isolated from the world like an island in the boundless ocean.

Amosta found himself standing in an abandoned square in this abandoned village. The war monument with the outline of a sword behind him was in a state of disrepair with its surface broken and peeling.

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

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

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

"That's much better--"

Amosta smiled and looked around again, the gaze in his dark purple eyes more targeted.

Then, Amosta locked onto his target.

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

A few crows flapped their wings and flew away from the roof of a post office whose owner was not sure whether it was still in business. On both sides of the road leading to the most respectable villa in the village, two rows of yellowed sycamore leaves rustled.

When Amosta set foot on this road, the faint piano music in the dark night suddenly stopped, and the panicked sound of shelves collapsing and some noise came with the wind. "Hehe--"

Amosta chuckled and didn't stop.

He stopped in front of a white wooden fence surrounding the garden and stared deeply at the house that was dim and had a hint of blood.

Amostas placed the suitcase on the ground and tapped it with his wand. The dark golden lock suddenly popped open, and an exquisitely designed packaging box jumped out from the space inside the suitcase and landed in Amostas's open palm.

After putting the chocolates into the suitcase, Amosta calmly closed the box.

The garden gate was open, and Amosita walked straight in and came to the front door.

Du, du, du—
The knock on the door made a creepy sound.

No one responded, and the people in the house seemed to have made up their minds to play dead to the end.

A smile flashed in Amosta's eyes.

The harsh sound of the door hinges turning tore through the silence of the night. The door opened, and the cold, turbid air coming out of the corridor leading to the living room made Amosta squint his eyes.

"Ho-"

Amosta exclaimed.

He walked along the narrow corridor into the living room, and everything he saw made him sigh again.

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

The piano was overturned, its keys scattered, and nearby was a chandelier shattered to pieces, its glass fragments reflecting the cloudy starlight.

The cushions were scattered all over the place, and the feathers filling them also occupied every corner of the living room.

"How terrible—"

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

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

Amosta sighed with regret, said something softly, then turned around and left the living room directly, walking towards the door on the creaking floor.

"and many more!"

Just as Amosta was about to step out the door, a voice suddenly shouted "Stop" from the living room he had just visited, and the voice sounded a little exasperated.

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

After some noises and the sound of stepping on glass fragments, a bald, fat old man flashed out from the living room, stood at the other end of the corridor, and stared at Amosta, panting.

"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 knew I was in the house a long time ago, didn't you? Oh, come to think of it, how did you know I lived here? I don't remember telling Dumbledore that I moved."

"Oh, it's true--"

Under Slughorn's vigilant gaze, Amosita smiled and walked back inside.
"But you told your beloved disciple at the Ministry, Mr. Cresswell, didn't you? I learned from him where you were going to live -"

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

"Mr. Cresswell was kind enough to tell me that you are fond of preserved fruits of all kinds—"

Glancing at the preserved fruit in front of him, Slughorn's light grey-green eyes flashed with a hint of desire, but he did not move, still holding a hint of hostility.

"Just like Dumbledore, you just love playing tricks on 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 the current market, a bottle of dragon blood is worth a lot of money!"

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

Amosta smiled faintly as he looked at the fat old man with a twinkle in his eyes.

"Of course, I am also happy to compensate you for your losses. As for dragon blood, I happen to have quite a bit of it in stock."

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

Suddenly, at one moment, Slughorn laughed mellowly.

"As expected of an elite from Slytherin College, you are much more popular than Dumbledore. Please come in!"

(End of this chapter)