Professor Goshawk stood in place for a long moment, coughing softly twice before finally turning and heading back into the castle.
Hoffa had no idea what had just transpired. Only after Goshawk disappeared did he step out from behind the wall where he had been hiding, trudging unevenly through the deep snow in pursuit of Joey.
"Hey, Joey!"
"Wait up!"
He called out several times before Joey finally turned his head.
Seeing that it was Hoffa, Joey looked surprised.
"What are you doing here? Why aren't you watching the Quidditch match?"
Hoffa caught up, panting heavily as he waded through snow that reached up to his thighs.
"It's been a while since I last saw you. How have you been feeling?"
At the mention of this, Joey waved his hand irritably.
"Don't bring it up. I wish I'd just died that day!"
"What's wrong?"
"What's wrong? Those damned fools say I violated school staff regulations by taking students into the Forbidden Forest without permission. Now I'm suspended and under review—without pay. No salary! What am I supposed to do about Maya?"
Joey grew increasingly agitated as he spoke.
"She's been weak ever since I was hospitalized. These cursed Europeans! Why can't they just live peacefully? Must everything be a fight? I've had enough!"
Maya was the egg of Joey's previous Thunderbird, Taras.
Hoffa wanted to comfort him, but Joey's rant left him at a loss for words, especially since Hoffa himself was now technically half-European.
After a few seconds, Joey seemed to realize he'd lost his composure. He sighed, muttering, "Forget it. Why am I even telling you this?"
Hoffa wasn't bothered. Catching up to Joey, he asked, "Is Maya doing that poorly?"
"Terribly. Come and see for yourself. I might have to take her back to America after Christmas."
Looking gloomy, Joey led Hoffa to his treehouse.
Now, every tree in the Forbidden Forest was carved with mysterious runes.
As soon as they entered the forest, Hoffa felt as though countless invisible eyes were watching him.
Joey grumbled darkly, "Cursed dark wizards. Dumbledore and the headmaster have placed defensive wards on every tree nearby. If even a mouse shows up, they'll know. Many magical creatures can feel the surveillance, and they've all fled this area."
The two climbed up to the treehouse, where Joey brewed a pot of tea for Hoffa and collapsed weakly into a chair in the living room.
On the table before them sat a large, grayish egg in a wicker basket. Compared to the last time Hoffa had seen it, the egg looked even duller. The blue patterns on its surface were now barely visible.
Joey pulled out his reddish-brown glasses, scrutinizing the egg before rubbing his hair in frustration.
"If this goes on, I really might have to quit and go home. This environment is too hostile for her—both the weather and the wizards."
Hoffa quickly took Joey's glasses and put them on.
Through the lenses, he could see the embryo inside the egg had visibly shrunk.
The situation seemed dire. Hoffa frowned. "Is there nothing you can do?"
"There's a way, of course, but it's not possible here in Britain," Joey said worriedly.
"I've lived with Thunderbirds for 30 years; I know them well. When they're hatching, they need a dry, hot environment. The drier and hotter, the better. But this climate is completely unsuitable for her development."
"Can't you create a simulated environment?" Hoffa gestured with his hands. "Like they do for birds on farms—with fire and magic?"
"This is a magical creature, not a turkey," Joey snapped irritably.
"Even if I could replicate a dry, hot environment, I can't simulate the climate she needs. Do you understand? That oppressive humidity, the tension in the air, the feeling of an impending storm—with thunder and lightning."
"Like the climate in Arizona?" Hoffa asked.
"Exactly. Thunderbirds love to hatch in that kind of environment," Joey confirmed.
Hoffa stared at the egg, then at Joey's deeply troubled face. Suddenly, a peculiar idea surfaced in his mind.
"I think I might have a solution," Hoffa said slowly.
"What kind of solution?" Joey asked.
"Before the school term started, I saw a shop in Diagon Alley that specializes in selling weather. They sell all kinds of climates—thunderstorms, rain, deserts, rainforests—you name it. It's just like the real thing." (See Chapter 4 for reference.)
"There's a shop like that?" Joey was stunned.
"Yeah, I saw it with my own eyes. Don't they have anything like that in the American wizarding world?"
Joey shook his head emphatically, like a rattling tambourine.
"We could buy one, if—" Hoffa began.
"How much?" Joey cut him off.
Hoffa thought for a moment. "If I remember correctly, it's about fifty Galleons."
"Fifty Galleons?" Joey gasped audibly. "My monthly salary at Hogwarts is only 15 Galleons, and I have to send 10 of those back to America every month. Where would I find that kind of money? And now those damned school administrators have suspended my pay because of the Forbidden Forest incident."
Hoffa chuckled wryly.
It seemed that even wizards couldn't escape the realities of financial struggle. He recalled how the Weasley family in his previous life's novels had been poor because of their large family. Even Harry Potter, after graduating, hadn't lived luxuriously; his job at the Ministry of Magic wasn't particularly lucrative.
Sipping his tea, Hoffa asked, "Why did you come to work in Britain? Why not find a better-paying job?"
"My family back in America is too large. They're always quarreling, and it drove me crazy. Back then, Taras didn't like them either; it preferred peace and quiet. So, I brought it to Hogwarts."
"You have a lot of kids?" Hoffa asked casually, taking another sip of tea.
"Seventeen."
Joey stretched out his legs and sighed heavily toward the ceiling.
Hoffa nearly choked on his tea.
"How many?"
"Seventeen. Seventeen kids. What, you think that's a lot?" Joey replied nonchalantly. "I'm a Mormon, after all."
"I don't care what religion you are!" Hoffa exclaimed in shock. "Seventeen kids? How is that even possible? Your wife—"
"I have nine wives," Joey said calmly. "In America."
Pfft!
A mouthful of tea sprayed from Hoffa's mouth, drenching Joey's face.
Whatever sympathy Hoffa had felt for Joey's dire situation evaporated instantly. Coughing and sputtering, he stared in disbelief at this familiar yet suddenly alien old man.
His worldview was crumbling. Nine wives and seventeen kids? What was this—feudal society? A slave state?
"How is that even possible in 1938?" Hoffa croaked. "Nine wives? Seventeen children?"
"Why are you looking at me like I'm a ghost?" Joey said irritably, wiping tea off his face with a towel. "I told you, I'm a Mormon. Mormons allow polygamy."
Hoffa finally understood.
Without hesitation, he asked, "What are the requirements to join?"
Joey burst into laughter at Hoffa's expression, shaking his head. "You're just a kid, and you're already thinking about this stuff? Let me warn you—some things aren't as great as they seem. If I'd really enjoyed life in America, I wouldn't have come to Hogwarts to work this hard."
"Spare me. You've lived it, so you have the right to complain," Hoffa retorted angrily. "You deserve to be broke! Honestly, being poor is the least of your problems. God already gave you nine open windows; it's about time something was taken away from you."
"Precocious little rascal," Joey said with a helpless laugh.
The conversation in the treehouse somehow completely veered off course.
Hoffa completely forgot about the Thunderbird and Quidditch. Instead, he relentlessly questioned old Joey about the details of Mormonism, specifically polygamy—how wives deal with jealousy, how they sleep at night, how often he changes wives, and if there are any rituals for favoring a particular wife.
By the end, Joey had had enough.
He stood up in anger and practically shoved Hoffa out of the door.
"You little brat, wait until you're older! You can ask me these questions then!"
Bang! The door slammed shut, and Hoffa was pushed outside the treehouse.
The cold wind of the European winter immediately made him a bit more alert.
That's when he remembered he had promised Aglaia he would watch her Quidditch match. How had he ended up talking to old Joey about polygamy?
Feeling disgruntled, Hoffa climbed down the tree trunk and landed in knee-deep snow. He suddenly felt like his life had gained a new purpose.
After graduating from Hogwarts, he could go to America and become a modern-day Wei Xiaobao.
As he walked, he seriously considered the feasibility of this plan.
Reaching the edge of the Forbidden Forest, Hoffa turned and looked back at the trees. He couldn't let the old man just give up on his work at the Hogwarts hunting grounds.
He needed to keep him here.
With the 60 Galleons still left from Endor's payment, he could go to Diagon Alley and custom-order an Arizona climate blanket.
But before that, he should return to the Quidditch pitch. He wondered if that boring match had ended.
The snow was heavy, and the snowdrifts were deep.
In the distance, the spectator stands of the Quidditch stadium towered high, with four massive house banners fluttering in the sky. The goalposts of the stadium were faintly visible in the thick snow.
The match was probably still ongoing.
Hoffa shielded his eyes from the snow and trudged towards the pitch, stepping through the snow, one foot sinking deeply while the other barely touched the surface.
But in the middle of his walk, he noticed a solitary, vague figure standing in the distance on the snowfield. The figure seemed out of place on the vast expanse of white snow.
Someone was standing there.
Hoffa paused for a moment, curious. He wondered why anyone would be standing alone in the snow while others were playing the game. Did this person, like him, not care much for Quidditch?
As he walked a few steps closer, the figure suddenly looked up.
It saw Hoffa.
The two of them locked eyes from afar, and then, in a flash, the figure turned and ran, its speed increasing rapidly.
Hoffa paused for a second, bewildered, then a terrible realization hit him.
The spot where the figure had been standing was the location of a portal!
This person was suspicious!
With a sudden jerk, Hoffa pulled his legs out of the snow and started running, hands and feet working together as he sprinted after the figure.
"Stop!" he shouted.
But the person didn't slow down at all. Instead, their speed only increased. Their robes billowed behind them, and the figure became more indistinct in the snow.
Hoffa drew his wand and, stumbling and slipping, ran toward the spot where the figure had stood.
Sure enough, the snow had been almost entirely displaced, revealing deep brown turf beneath.
The ground was uneven, and the massive, long-abandoned portal buried under the grass had been exposed again, showing signs of unprecedented destruction.
Every rune was shattered into pieces, and the air was thick with chaotic magical energy. The land had likely endured at least ten violent curses.
Gotcha!
Hoffa glanced at the blurry figure, now completely reduced to a gray dot, which flickered a few times in the heavy snow before disappearing.
The direction in which it disappeared was exactly towards the Quidditch pitch.
Without a second thought, Hoffa chased after it.
That person was the real cause of him being hunted by Schmidt.
If the portal hadn't been destroyed, Endor wouldn't have come to Hogsmeade looking for him. And if Endor hadn't come, Hoffa wouldn't have randomly gotten into trouble with three German dark wizards, and he certainly wouldn't have encountered dark wizards in the Forbidden Forest and barely escaped death twice.
That person was the root of it all.
Who were they?
Was it Schmidt himself?
As Hoffa sprinted, barely keeping up, he wondered about the identity of the figure.
The moment he could no longer see the figure in the distance, he activated his ghostly walk ability.
As the world shifted, Hoffa disappeared into the snowstorm.
In this shadowy state, his speed increased dramatically. With every step, he covered three meters, leaving behind shallow footprints in the snow.
Ten seconds later, when he deactivated the ability, he immediately reactivated it.
Another twenty seconds of high-speed running brought him closer to the gray figure ahead.
Just as he reached the entrance to the Quidditch pitch, Hoffa followed the footprints, rushing onto the field. As he deactivated his ghostly walk once more, he pressed his hand onto the figure's shoulder.
"Hey!"
The person suddenly turned around and forcefully pushed Hoffa away.
In that split second, Hoffa caught a glimpse of a mask—a strange, pale mask.
Hoffa froze in place, stunned. In the blink of an eye, the masked figure dashed off again.
Hoffa, startled, tried to give chase.
But just then, a deafening cheer erupted from the stadium.
Everyone stood up, some even jumping from the towers, rushing to embrace their teammates.
Bright blue ribbons flew through the sky, and the eagle emblem sparkled in the snowstorm.
The commentator shouted hoarsely: "Aglaia, the young substitute seeker for Ravenclaw, stepped up when the team was 100 points behind, catching the Golden Snitch and saving her team from crisis. With skills we could only dream of. Incredible! It's clear that Ravenclaw now has another ace for the foreseeable future. Of course, Slytherin…"
The commentator rambled on, as Ravenclaw's supporters celebrated with cheers, while Slytherin's side looked dejected, their faces filled with frustration.
Meanwhile, Hoffa stood at the entrance of the pitch, pale-faced, as the footprints he had left in the snow were quickly erased by the frantic crowd. The blurry figure had completely vanished among the people.
In the air, ribbons and confetti fell, some sticking to Hoffa's face.
Aglaia, holding the Golden Snitch, soared in the air with her teammates, slowly descending to the ground as the crowd cheered even louder.
But their excitement didn't reach Hoffa.
He had seen that person before.
He had seen them!
Months ago, in the secret chamber of the Violet Society, it was the person who had taught him the Disillusionment Charm!
Aglaia, basking in the crowd's praise, raised the Golden Snitch, her face flushed with pride.
Hoffa stood there, stunned, in the middle of the crowd.
Suddenly, a hand reached out from the crowd and pulled him forward.
Miranda, looking at him reproachfully, said, "Where have you been? I've been looking for you!"
Hoffa snapped out of his daze, unsure of how to answer.
Just then, Aglaia, still excited, came up to Hoffa, holding the gleaming Golden Snitch.
"Did you see it? Did you see it? My final move on the broom?" she asked eagerly.
Hoffa slowly nodded. "You're the best seeker I've ever seen."
"Hahaha!" Aglaia laughed proudly.
(End of Chapter)
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