Homecoming from Hogwarts

12 Grimmauld Place, London.

It was getting dark, and the two rows of street lamps standing in the autumn wind emitted weak and dim lights, illuminating the bleakness of the square.

On the road leading from the subway to the square, a young couple walked arm in arm. They looked tired after a day's work.

"This damn place--"

The end of the road that was renovated due to the gas explosion connects to Grimmauld Place.

As soon as he stepped into the circular square, the cold wind that lingered here immediately made the Muggle man shiver. He pulled his scarf with one hand, took a breath of cool air, and sighed.
"How desolate!"

"That's exactly why we picked this place, isn't it, dear--"

The round-faced girl with freckles on her face shrank her neck and said,
"The rent is cheap enough--"

"That's good, but if I had to choose again, I wouldn't rent here. Damn the landlord for hiding it from us."

The boy narrowed his eyes to block the strong wind coming towards him and stamped his feet to dispel the pervasive cold.

The girl seemed to find the boy's complaints very cute, and she giggled and pecked him lightly on the cheek.
"Don't be silly, dear, there are no ghosts in this world. I'm sure our neighbors are just teasing you--"

"Neighbor, that's what I was going to say--"

The boy frowned and stared at the wall between his neighbor's house and the house he rented.

"Don't you think it's strange, Aya? We live at number 13, and Mrs. Mans lives at number 11. So what about number 12? There should be a number 12, right?"

The girl shrugged, thinking the question was insignificant.
“Maybe the people who built these houses didn’t like that number.”

"Don't be silly, Aya--"

The boy's eyes narrowed into slits.
"They even kept the number '13'. It makes no sense to remove the number 12."

The deserted square was greeted by the cold wind from all directions. The girl was frozen and curled up in her arms.

"Oh, would you rather go home and enjoy the hot mushroom soup I'll make for you, or would you rather stand here and continue staring at a wall?"

A strange feeling emerged from the bottom of his heart, and the boy suddenly lost interest in this question.
"You're right, this is a boring question, let's go home--"

The boy hugged his girlfriend tightly and walked quickly towards the house a few steps away.
"I can't wait to taste you"

When the girl showed her shyness, the boy raised his eyebrows and said with a smile,
"--Mushroom soup!"

With a click, the door closed, blocking out the girl's loving and shy laughter.

call.
Amosta watched the young Muggle couple walk into number 13 Grimmauld Place, and the purple fluorescence in his eyes dimmed.

He let out a slight breath, and his breath left an irregular blur on the cold glass window.

He turned around and looked expressionlessly at the bizarre light and shadows cast by the fire in the fireplace on the weathered stone wall.

After escorting Jasna Rosier to Avalon Prison, Amosta only quietly returned to Hogwarts, took away the backlog of letters in the office, and left the school without alerting anyone.

It’s not that he doesn’t want to show up.

Just thinking about the time when I would ask Professor McGonagall for leave again in a few days, and then I would have to face her angry face and yell:

You are the most irresponsible professor in the thousand years since Hogwarts was founded, Amosta!

Amosta had a headache.

So he just skipped work for a few more days.

It’s not that he doesn’t want to teach and train young wizards at Hogwarts, but now, to a certain extent, the battle with Voldemort has almost reached the most critical moment.

At the Ministry of Magic, the resumption of construction on Diagon Alley has begun and ground has been broken.

He had promised Ludo that the establishment of an official gambling platform in conjunction with the Quidditch World Cup League Committee and the British Ministry of Magic also needed to be put on the agenda.

Arthur and Frank's inspection department has now been established and is in the process of popularizing the new laws to various departments.

Unsurprisingly, those harsh regulations caused dissatisfaction among many people.

Amosta also needs to appear on the same stage with them from time to time to show his seriousness about this matter.

Amelia is also under a lot of pressure.

Recently, there have been voices in the wizarding world criticizing her for being a puppet minister.

If it weren't for the strong hand I showed when I pushed her to power through the trial of Harry, Ron and Hermione, and the domineering way I showed when I forced many pure-blood families to sign equity transfer agreements at the drop-off platform in Diagon Alley, some dissatisfied people would be afraid to act rashly.

All the reform plans he formulated, including Amelia's, are likely to be overturned.

As his loyal ally, Amosta also needs to reciprocate and occasionally show respect to Amelia in public.

Amosta shook his head slightly in silence.

Now a strange phenomenon has appeared in the British wizarding world, which he had expected.

Voldemort is notorious among the lower classes, but his reputation among the long-established forces in the British wizarding world is not particularly bad.

After all, he preached the protection of the rights of pure-bloods and never interfered with their business.

But I am just the opposite.

What he has done over the years has earned him a good reputation among the lower classes, but not many people in the middle and upper classes of the British wizarding world like him.

History is a little girl who can be dressed up.

Whoever loses the war between him and Voldemort will be nailed to the pillar of shame in history.

If you say there is no pressure at all, you are just deceiving yourself.

When he was alone, Amosta's slightly furrowed brows revealed a hint of hesitation.

The lid of the kettle on the mantelpiece jingled as the steam rose from it. Amosta glanced over and saw the kettle hanging steadily, floating to the dining table piled with documents, tipping the spout and pouring water into the porcelain cup.

Walking slowly to his seat, Amosta picked up the teacup, glanced at a wine jug beside the candlestick, and his eyes fell on an irregular black stone that quietly appeared in his palm.

The light from the star-like green halo on the surface of the black stone shone on his face, making his expression look a little gloomy.

Salazar Slytherin.

Amosta felt a headache when he thought of this legendary wizard.

The memory left to him by the evil founder of Hogwarts was more of a puzzle and a problem than two revelations.

A ball of light in a glass bottle, tainted with darkness, appeared in Amosta's other hand.

That was his answer to Slytherin's puzzle.

Ever since he returned to Hogwarts after graduation and retrieved a sealed memory from his dormitory, he had a plan in place.

But whether it will succeed is still unknown.

call--
The steadily beating fire suddenly fluctuated violently. Amosita raised his eyebrows slightly, stood up, and the two things in his hands disappeared.

"Ah, Amosta, you are really here!"

Remus walked out of the fireplace, saw Amosta, who looked slightly surprised at the dining table, and smiled happily.

"Remus?"

Looking at the dusty Remus, Amos looked out the window at the sky that was just fading into darkness.

"Off duty, this is not your style."

"It's not—"

Remus laughed, taking off his scarf and his new taupe coat as he walked over.

"I went to the Ministry of Magic to attend a meeting of the International Trade Department. Minister Bones was also there, so I met Sirius. He knew I was looking for you, and told me that you were here now--"

"Are you looking for me?"

After making Remus a cup of tea, Amosta asked him to sit down.

"Yes, I have been wanting to see you for a few days. I know you and Albus have been in a meeting in Paris a few days ago, but after Albus returned to Hogwarts, you didn't come back. I was worried that I would not be able to inform you in time--"

Looking at the pile of envelopes on the table, Amosta raised his eyebrows in confusion.

"I'm dealing with some issues with the operations at the workshop, but I didn't get your letter, Remus—"

"Oh, I didn't write to you, Amosta--"

Remus smiled, happier than he had been in the years they had known each other.
"I think it would be more appropriate to invite you in person. This is it, Amosta, I'm getting married!" (End of this chapter)