Several days of continuous snow had buried all the filth on the streets of the ancient city of London. The gloomy, ever-cloudy sky seemed to foretell a more intense blizzard brewing. On the old streets, many Muggle cleaners were doing their best to clear the snow, desperately trying to make the roads passable.
Amorsta Blaine, dressed in an old dark green coat, stood in a bare yard, deeply observing the unfinished building in front of him. His light purple eyes seemed to hold an extraordinary magic.
Unlike the surrounding buildings steeped in historical charm, this was a square, style-less six-story building, resembling a student dormitory. Each floor had dozens of rooms, indicating that it could house many people once completed.
"Amorsta!"
A call from the street outside the iron gate snapped Amorsta back to reality. He turned to see a middle-aged woman hurrying over, and a warm, friendly smile appeared on his young face.
"Good morning, Mrs. Regan."
"Oh, you should have called ahead, Amorsta."
After a hurried hug, Mrs. Regan spoke in a reproachful tone.
"Sorry, I didn't plan to be in such a rush. Something came up that might keep me busy for the next few months, so I came back to check on the progress."
Amorsta shrugged, his tone light and casual.
"Yes, yes, you're always in a hurry."
Mrs. Regan proudly looked at the handsome Amorsta, the most successful child to come out of the orphanage in recent years, her face full of gratification.
"You don't need to worry, Amorsta. Mr Parker from the construction team said they will resume work right after the Christmas holidays. In just two months, the children can move into their new home!"
"Yes, I think that's what they're looking forward to."
Amorsta smiled and opened his briefcase, taking out two stacks of pounds and handing them to Mrs. Regan.
Gringotts did offer services to exchange Muggle money, but both the exchange rate and the amount were strictly limited. Amorsta preferred to convert his gold coins into gold bars and then exchange them for pounds at some not-so-official gold shop in London. Though this also incurred some unnecessary losses, it was more acceptable than dealing with the greedy goblins.
"This is the final payment for the project. Please give it to Mr. Parker for me."
Mrs. Regan's lips moved as if to speak, but she had expressed her gratitude so many times before that it seemed unnecessary to be polite again. She carefully tucked the money into her oil-stained apron, her voice filled with gratitude and expectation.
"Do you want to see the children, Amorsta? They really want to see you, especially little Hammer. He's been complaining for days that you didn't keep your promise to spend Christmas with them."
"Please tell him I'm sorry, Mrs. Regan. I'll bring him a gift during the summer holidays."
"Alright."
Mrs Regan's voice carried obvious disappointment, but she didn't insist. She knew that if Amorsta had time, he would not refuse to see the children. It seemed he really had something urgent to take care of.
Their chat didn't take long. Mrs Regan needed to get back to the children she cared for, and Amorsta left the bleak yard shortly after she did.
He walked steadily along the freshly cleared street, his pace unwavering even as he passed old buildings filled with countless childhood memories.
When he crossed a ten-foot-wide river, he paused on a worn-out arch bridge to gaze at the frozen surface for a moment before heading toward a barren field sparsely planted with birch trees.
In the middle of the field was a cemetery surrounded by a rickety fence.
"Wind, sweep clean."
Without taking his hands out of his pockets, Amorsta muttered. Small whirlwinds appeared out of nowhere, sweeping the snow off rows of tombstones and the grey-black pebble path before disappearing without a trace.
"Sorry, Grandma Felina, I forgot to bring flowers." He muttered softly.
Amorsta walked to a pristine tombstone, bent down to brush off the remaining ice and water from the marble inscription, then stood up to quietly look at the black-and-white photo of the kindly smiling elderly woman on the tombstone.
Beneath the tombstone lay the elderly woman who had carefully taken care of him during his childhood at the orphanage, the only person he recognized as family since he was born into this world as an infant.
The owl, braving the biting cold wind, sensed his sorrow. Instead of urgently completing its task of delivering the message, it perched on a nearby birch tree, tilting its head to watch Amorsta below, occasionally preening its feathers disturbed by the wind with its sharp beak.
"For the next few months, I have to go back to that school that teaches 'magic tricks.' The school is facing some trouble, and someone wants me to find something amidst the chaos. To be honest, this isn't something I want to do. Albus Dumbledore—the old white-bearded man who likes to pretend to bump into me in the library at midnight to remind me not to stay up late—won't like what I'm doing now. And I don't enjoy sneaking around under his watchful eyes… But I have no choice. They're offering me more than I could make in half a year of hard work.
And when the new dormitory is completed, I still hope to help solve the children's education issues—"
The bitter cold wind carried away Amorsta's melancholy sigh, but it couldn't erase the frustration on his handsome face.
"Unfortunately, if I could remember the plot, I might be able to finish the job quickly and take the money."
His light remark revealed the deepest secret of the young man standing in the desolate graveyard.
Yes, Amorsta Blaine wasn't a 'native' of this world. His soul came from Earth where there was no supernatural power.
The story of Harry Potter was something he loved in his previous life during his youth. But it had been more than twenty years since he received the Hogwarts acceptance letter in this life, and all memories had become blurry. Ten years ago, when he received that owl letter in the cold room of the orphanage, he thought it was a new popular prank.
It wasn't until a greasy-haired man with a hooked nose came to him and turned his bed into a toilet with a wand that he realized this life wasn't starting a typical urban fantasy.
Since then, he tried desperately to recall the plot of Harry Potter, but all he got were some vague terms like Horcrux, Hallows, love and scar, Voldemort and resurrection. What he knew was far less than the information he gathered since entering the wizarding world.
Of course, Amorsta, skilled in magic, tried unconventional means to retrieve his memories. But the information was so stubbornly forgotten. No matter how hard he tried, it remained hidden in a flowing grey mist, as if protected by unimaginable magic. In the end, after trying many methods and nearly driving himself crazy, he had to give up reluctantly.
"That boy named Potter is in his second year, so there are still a few years until graduation. I think I won't face the most dangerous situation for now. After all, Dumbledore is there—ah no, the danger comes from Dumbledore…"
Whoosh…
Watching the white breath dispersed by the wind, Amorsta's face froze into a bitter smile.
"Survival is tough no matter which world you're in, right, Grandma Felina?"
Snowflakes started falling from the sky again, and the owl's impatient hoots became more frequent. Amorsta reached out his hand, and the small piece of paper under the owl's claw swooshed through the grayish snow curtain and landed steadily in his palm.
[Dear Mr. Blaine,
I have completed negotiations with the Hogwarts Board of Governors. The board has approved our plan. You need to arrive at Hogwarts by 8 p.m. tonight to personally explain to Dumbledore how you plan to investigate the attacker.
Additionally, Lucius Malfoy strongly opposed the idea of sending an investigator. He believes Dumbledore should be directly removed. The Greengrass family was the only supporter.
Yours faithfully,
Cacus Fawley]
The scrawled handwriting revealed the urgency of the writer. The gray owl, dissatisfied with not being rewarded, let out a grumpy screech before flapping its wings and quickly disappearing into the swirling snow.
Amorsta closed his hand, and the note from Cacus transformed into a pristine white carnation growing in his palm.
"Do you like this magic trick, Grandma Felina?"
Amorsta smiled. He turned and walked into the wind and snow. With a pop, the desolate graveyard was empty again, leaving only a low oath lingering in the sparse woods.
"Is the train of fate ready to move towards the unknown?"