Homecoming from Hogwarts

The last ray of sunlight disappeared behind the mountains. The newborn moon was still unable to bear the responsibility of lighting up the night sky. The sky took on an ominous gray-blue color.

The redness on Horace's cheeks caused by alcohol faded little by little until it turned pale.

He squeezed his slender body into the soft back of the sofa, with his head tilted, but his eyes would occasionally glance at the black stone on the table.

From the look of fear on Horace's face, he obviously recognized what it was.

Dumbledore also showed a slight surprise.

He hadn't expected that Amosta would place the Resurrection Stone directly in front of Horace.

But after hesitating for a moment, Dumbledore decided to remain silent and wait and see how things developed.

"Headmaster Dumbledore and I found it in Voldemort's old house. Now, this stone is no longer a Horcrux--"

Amosta sipped the sherry elegantly, with a nonchalant attitude as if he was discussing whether the afternoon tea meal was delicious.

"His old house?"

Horace's face turned from one side to the other, and he looked at Amosta, and Amosta could easily detect the surprise mixed in Horace's confused expression.

"That's right. Voldemort's mother was from the Gaunt family, one of the twenty-eight pure-blood families. His grandfather was Marvolo Gaunt. Perhaps you have heard, Horace, that Gaunt's bloodline originated from the great Salazar Slytherin--"

Horace's body suddenly trembled, his lips moved and he murmured,

"Slytherin. No wonder. No wonder--"

About ten minutes passed before Horace gradually came to his senses. He still shrank his body, trying to keep himself away from the black stone on the table, as if it carried a terrible curse!

"It's not easy. How did you think he would hide this thing there--"

Horace looked cautiously at Dumbledore and Amosta.

"Well, you know, Headmaster Dumbledore is probably the wizard who knows Voldemort best. He knows almost everything about his past—"

Amosta smiled modestly.

"And I was lucky. I found them one after another--"

One after another?!

Horace was a little confused. Was this some kind of crude treasure game? Wait!

Amosta just said that this stone was the latest one destroyed by him and Dumbledore.
"How much have you already done?"

Unconsciously, Horace's breathing became heavy, and he looked at Amosta longingly, as if he was longing for salvation!

If this is the last one, then this is the end of his unintentional mistakes!
"Oh, that's an interesting question—"

Amosta laughed, and he looked at the confused Horace with interest.

"According to normal logic, shouldn't you answer our questions first, dear Horace?"

Success. It’s almost successful!

From the flickering look in Horace's eyes, Dumbledore could sense the hesitation in his old colleague's heart. This had never happened before in the many negotiations before!
"I"

Horace muttered something and then fell silent again.

"That bottle was amazing, Amosta, Horace was a Potions Master and he didn't notice anything wrong, and you just sniffed it -"

Dumbledore admired it wholeheartedly, seemingly unaware that the bottle of poisoned wine was prepared specifically for him.

"Every profession has its own specialties, that's all."

Amosta replied.

With just a conversation, the two of them ended the topic.

Both of them knew who might have sent the wine and who gave him the instructions.

"Do you think Horace can figure it out, Amosta?"

The two of them wandered through the intricate corridors of Hogwarts Castle, walking aimlessly.

The torches hanging on the ancient stone walls on both sides sensed the presence of people and lit up automatically.

The flames quickly burned out the candlelight clinging to the torch. On the spider web, the spiders that suffered a devastating disaster fled in a hurry, looking for a new dark place to live.

"Since the moment Horace returned to Hogwarts, the answer was already determined, sooner or later, he just needs some time--" Amosita said calmly. He glanced at the sadness on Dumbledore's clear face illuminated by the firelight, thought for a moment, and then
"I didn't expect you to talk to Horace about this issue again so soon, Headmaster Dumbledore. It will take an opportunity for him to give that important answer--"

Amosta's words bordered on accusation.

"I have a feeling, Amosta—"

Dumbledore stopped and gazed at the mountains and black waters in the darkness, where only the vague outlines could be seen. He sighed in dismay.

"I'm afraid we don't have much time--"

A figure stepped lightly across the border between the forbidden forest and the lawn, stopped for a moment, and then walked steadily towards the magical tree standing at the edge of the forbidden forest some distance away.

Amosta's eyes followed him, thoughtfully.

His strange silence brought Dumbledore out of his worries and looked at Amosta, who then looked at the Whomping Willow.

Think for a moment,

"Severus told you what happened at Malfoy Manor, didn't he?"

Amosta nodded slightly,

"What you want to ask is. Gray fog?"

"I think it should be a tricky power, but Tom hasn't mastered it yet?"

"That's 'death'--"

Amosta's soft words surprised Dumbledore.
"Death. I thought that was what Tom was trying to get rid of--"

"I can only share all this with you at the right time. Headmaster Dumbledore, you said that time is the most wonderful and dangerous force. When we fool it, it is best to exercise utmost caution-"

Amosta said,
"Excuse me, Headmaster Dumbledore. I need to talk to Frommid for the survival of Hogwarts--"

After saying that, Amosta turned and left, quickly disappearing around the corner of the corridor. Only Dumbledore, with his silver beard fluttering, was left standing in a daze in this lost corridor.

For the survival of Hogwarts.
After a long time, Dumbledore's old face became solemn.

Did Amosta realize something? And!

Time is the most dangerous and wonderful force, and when we fool it, it is best to exercise the utmost caution.
This is not wrong at all, but...
When had he said this to Amosta?

"Good evening, Flomid, I hope I'm not disturbing you."

When Fromide woke up from his meditation, the bright candlelight from the auditorium on the first floor of the castle to the entrance hall had gone out.

The dense green grass underfoot was frozen to the cold level, and the dim moon climbed to a higher position, spreading its light over the earth.

"Professor Blaine!"

Frommid put down the hand that was on the trunk of the Whomping Willow. He turned around and looked at the young professor smiling at the moon, revealing a smile of surprise.
"When did you come back?"

"Ah, before evening—"

Amosta said as he eyed the aged Whomping Willow.

This tree has a rule that no one should get close to it. No matter who gets close to it, it will immediately go berserk and whip them mercilessly.

However, it looked at Fromide differently.

Not only was Fromid allowed to approach it, but he was also allowed to touch its trunk.

“Are you talking to it?”

The Whomping Willow bent its sturdy waist and dropped a green willow branch as a tentacle, gently touching Fromide's cheek.

"Ah, yes--"

Flomid patted the trunk of the willow as if he were patting a friend's shoulder, and answered happily,
"During this period, it has shared a lot of past stories with me. It said that Headmaster Dumbledore planted it here about twenty years ago to serve as a shelter for a wolf during its transformation.

But during that period, there were also some other animals that kept trying to get into its stomach.

Oh. It also told me that it was always in a bad mood because it had a scar on its body. That scar always made it very uncomfortable, so if someone was willing to scratch it, it would calm down! "

Amosta
So smart???

(End of this chapter)