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On the edge of the Forbidden Forest, Amosta paused, looking towards Hagrid's hut. The simple wooden hut had no lights, nor could he sense any magical aura. It seemed Hagrid was not inside.
As is well known, the Hogwarts gamekeeper is one of Albus Dumbledore's most trusted confidantes. Often, Dumbledore would entrust extremely important and private matters to this seemingly gruff but ultimately dependable giant of a man.
Amosta wasn't sure if Hagrid was out on an errand or patrolling the Forbidden Forest. So, to ensure he wouldn't be disturbed, Amosta walked a good distance further south before striding into the woods.
The dense Forbidden Forest was pitch black and silent. Apart from the crunching of dry leaves underfoot, even the bone-chilling wind of winter was awed by the oppressive silence here and quieted. Amosta continued deeper into the forest.
He veered off the winding path, bypassed a logged area now only filled with moss-covered tree stumps, until he turned and could no longer see any hint of the castle lights. Only then did he stop, stepping onto a large, flat bluestone.
"This is it, Granny Filena." Amosta spoke to the kindly smiling old woman whose image was forever fixed in the photograph. Then, he placed the photo on the ground, propping it up with a broken branch.
"According to the customs of the world I once inhabited, on the seventh midnight after a person's passing, their soul will have an opportunity to return to this world to visit their living family members."
Amosta flicked his sleeve. A twelve-inch ebony wand with a dragon heartstring core, well-maintained, slid into his palm. He pointed his wand at the ground. A fist-sized stone at his feet immediately floated up and spun in a rapid blur, transforming into an orange-yellow bronze basin.
"At this time, the living family members will commemorate their departed loved ones in a certain way—"
Amosta sat down cross-legged, completely unaffected by the slippery and icy bluestone against his backside. He took out a cloth bag from his robes. This was a bag Amosta had bought for two Galleons from Scrivenshaft's Quill Shop in Hogsmeade, a bag whose space had been expanded by an Undetectable Extension Charm. Because it wasn't expensive, its initial space was very limited. However, after a second modification, it could now hold a small car and also had the function of categorizing and batch-loading items.
"I wonder if you would like this method?"
A large stack of yellow paper and a small mountain of gold ingots were poured out, scattering on the ground.
Whoosh!
Golden flames ignited from thin air, rapidly devouring the yellow paper and the hand-folded gold ingots in the bronze basin. The scorching heat quickly seared the edges of the yellow-orange bronze basin black, and at the same time, dried the moisture in the damp, cold air. The flickering light of the flames danced on the glass protector, reflecting a slightly pale face.
"I deeply apologize for not being by your side in your final days. This will probably be my life's greatest regret." Amosta moved his chapped lips, adding paper to the basin while speaking to the old woman smiling in the flames. The flames flickered, and the golden light and shadows swayed with them, making the old woman in the photograph appear to move like a magical portrait, gently comforting the young man whose heart was filled with sorrow.
"—If not for you, I would have probably died at that woman's hands sixteen years ago, and wouldn't have had the chance to know this wonderful world."
The biting north wind that entered this area, enveloped in firelight, also became gentle. They softly ruffled Amosta's hair, like an invisible hand stroking his head. Amosta gazed at the photo, softly whispering the secrets buried deep in his heart—those absurd things he couldn't even speak to the closest people. Only when facing his deceased loved one could Amosta speak without reservation.
The graceful moon gradually slanted towards the horizon. In the latter half of the night, mist sweeping from the depths of the Forbidden Forest shrouded everything in a vague haze. Tiny ice shards hung on the dense leaves, drooping disconsolately from the branches.
"What do you think he's doing, Priam?" Because his mind was wandering, Amosta lost his usual vigilance, so much so that he didn't notice two figures, carrying broomsticks and wearing Gryffindor red jerseys, had been quietly observing him from fifty feet behind him for a while.
"I can't say for sure, Fhloya, but it looks like he's performing some kind of evil ritual... using dark magic to summon the spirit of that old man in the photo. It's probably something like that. You know, those slimy snakes in Slytherin love studying this." Priam, a fourth-year Gryffindor Beater with a round face and small eyes, whispered to the girl beside him, who was both his teammate and girlfriend. "He's Amosta Blaine, a very strange bookworm."
"A very strange bookworm?" Fhloya, with long, pale blonde hair and a delicate appearance, moved her slender eyebrows.
"That's right," Priam puffed out his cheeks and chuckled, "I heard from Haizhen of Ravenclaw that he sees Blaine every Saturday morning sitting in the corner of the reading section of the library, with a large stack of books in front of him, not interacting with anyone, as if he's passionate about studying. But his grades are far worse than Charlie's brother's, probably because his brain isn't very bright."
Fhloya let out a giggle. She leaned against Priam, propping herself up with her Cleansweep Seven.
"Perhaps we should go back to the castle and call a professor over, dear. We can't just watch him use evil dark magic to curse a deceased old man, can we?"
"That's not a good idea, Fhloya." Priam's small eyes twinkled with mischief, and he unhesitatingly rejected his girlfriend's suggestion. "Charlie and his friends are still playing hide-and-seek with that giant spider in the Forbidden Forest. If we call a professor over, they'll all be exposed."
"Charlie said that his brother Bill is on prefect duty tonight. We can go notify him. I think Bill wouldn't betray his own brother." Fhloya blinked, suggesting again.
"That's a good suggestion, Fhloya," Priam looked at Amosta's thin back on the bluestone, a mischievous grin on his face. "But, I have an even more interesting way to punish this evil wizard. Come on, Fhloya, take out your wand, let's teach him a lesson!"
The remaining yellow paper and gold ingots on the ground were almost gone. He gathered them with both hands, throwing them all into the crimson bronze basin, softly bidding his final farewell,
"—I hope your merits in this life will become blessings in your next. Granny Filena, the place where I lived in my previous life was also a very nice country. If given the chance to choose, you could be born there..."
"Hey! Face judgment, Slytherin Dark Wizard!"
The sudden shouts startled Amosta, who was just emerging from a state of weakness. Before he could react, two sharp spells whistled from behind him.
"Petrificus Totalus!
Confringo!"
In a flash, Amosta, abruptly awakened, had no time to consider who was attacking him. He instinctively tried to draw his wand to retaliate, but was dismayed to find his wand unintentionally pinned under his leg. After sitting cross-legged by the brazier for over an hour, he was dizzy, and his legs were severely numb, leaving him no time to react effectively.
Damn it, I was too careless! Amosta cursed inwardly. He braced his left hand on the ground, letting his body fall to one side, rolling down the bluestone, and picking up his wand as he went. In the nick of time, he finally dodged the spells.
However, Granny Filena's photo and the brazier Amosta conjured weren't so lucky! Priam's Petrificus Totalus missed Amosta but accidentally struck the brazier. Instantly, fiery serpents danced across the sky, illuminating the gloomy Forbidden Forest as if dawn had broken!
And Fhloya's Confringo struck Granny Filena's photograph squarely. After a crisp shattering sound, the fragmented photo was devoured by the golden fiery serpents, rapidly turning into black ash...
As Amosta struggled to get up from the ground, a shattered piece of photograph, its edges being eaten by flames, floated past his eyes and fell powerlessly to the ground. His gaze followed the photo. Emotions of daze, shock, and fury flickered in his light brown eyes. The moment the photo turned to ashes, Amosta, his face contorted in rage, finally looked up in the direction the spells had come from, slowly but firmly raising his wand...