Chapter 3087 - Ch: 33-40

Chapter 33: Hogsmeade Open Day

On the last weekend of October, the noise in the castle began from the stairwell at six in the morning.

Amster had just spread Flamel's notes out on the long table in the Room of Requirement, and before his fingertips even touched the yellowed pages, the door was pounded with a deafening crash.

"Amster!" Fleur's voice wrapped in the wind drilled in, and the next second, she had already grabbed the doorframe and squeezed in, her curls brushing past the edge of the door and kicking up a cloud of dust. "If you hide any longer, you're going to grow together with this notebook!"

Without a word of explanation, she grabbed his sleeve, her strength completely unlike her usual dainty appearance.

Amster was pulled half a step and stumbled, and just as he was about to open his mouth to retort, "I've only been hiding for ten minutes," he saw Penelope standing at the doorway holding a stack of books.

The tips of her ears were as red as if they had been soaked in hot water, and her fingertips were tightly pinching the spine of the topmost book, *Ancient Runes Made Easy*. Seeing him look over, she quietly moved half a step closer to him, which was considered her tacit agreement to go together.

Cassandra leaned sideways against the outside of the doorframe, the thermos in her hand steaming with fine white heat. When her gaze swept over the notes on the table, the corners of her mouth curved up extremely faintly. She didn't speak, but stopped her steps at the doorway—obviously, she was also an "accomplice".

At the end of the corridor, Cho Chang shook her hand clutching an empty canvas bag. Seeing from afar that Amster was being dragged out, she immediately trotted to catch up: "Wait for me! I haven't finished memorizing the English signboard of Honeydukes yet!"

Amster looked at the four people surrounding him, sighed helplessly, and shoved the notes haphazardly into his bag.

Oh well, there was no way he could avoid Hogsmeadetoday no matter what.

"Fine, fine, girls." Amster raised both hands in a gesture of surrender. "It looks like I can't escape—but I have a small question. I can understand Fleur and Penelope, but Cassandra and Cho Chang, you two aren't even in the third year yet, how are you going to sneak out with us?"

He looked at the pairs of eyes looking over in unison, sighed helplessly, and tapped his fingertips gently on the cover of the notes: "Alright, alright, don't stare at me like that. I know, I'll think of a way."

Stepping out of the castle gates, a cool breeze wrapped around them all at once, gently swaying the hem of his black robe.

The sunlight was indeed very nice, filtering through the branches and leaves of the roadside maples to cast mottled spots of light on the flagstone path.

The group walked along the path towards Hogsmeade. Fleur linked her arm through Amster's, chattering non-stop about how sweet the desserts in the Beauxbatons dining hall were and how cloying the Honeydukes chocolates she had sneaked out to buy last time were.

Penelope walked on Amster's other side, keeping her steps very light and occasionally chiming in softly with "That bakery's cake looks pretty good." Most of the time, she just quietly watched his profile, her fingers unconsciously rubbing the corners of the book pages.

Cassandra lagged two steps behind, holding her thermos and sipping slowly. Her gaze casually swept over the roadside bushes, and catching sight of a beetle bouncing away, she paused for a moment before shifting her gaze away.

Cho Chang walked at the very back, staring at the street signs and spelling them out in a low voice. Whenever she stumbled over a reading, she would quickly catch up to Amster, gently tugging his sleeve to ask.

"Honeydukes." She pointed at the candy store's signboard, her eyes sparkling, "Is this how I pronounce it?"

Amster turned his head to look, and nodded: "Right, put the stress on the first syllable."

Cho Chang immediately smiled, her eyebrows curving into crescents. She reached out and touched the window glass at the shop's entrance, where the chocolate wrappers inside refracted shimmering bits of light.

Fleur looked back at her, then looked at Amster, blinked playfully, and didn't say much else, just tightening her grip slightly on the arm linked through his.

Hogsmeade's main street was packed to the brim. Students walked in groups of threes and fours, their shopping bags bumping into each other and making rustling sounds.

After finishing the candy store, the group went to the stationery shop, picked out a few bags of candies and a few magic notebooks, and didn't turn to duck into Madam Puddifoot's Tea Shop until their feet were sore from walking.

Pushing open the door, a cozy wave of warmth hit them face-on, mixed with the sweet fragrance of black tea and pastries.

Fleur sank heavily into a soft armchair, raised her hand to call the waiter, and ordered a bunch of cream cakes and chocolate pastries all at once.

Penelope only asked for a cup of black tea, her fingertips holding the porcelain cup as the warmth from the cup's wall slowly traveled through her skin into the palm of her hand.

Cassandra unscrewed her thermos, took a gentle sip, spun the lid twice on the table, and then quietly set it down.

Cho Chang held the menu, her eyebrows slightly furrowed as she scrutinized it word by word. After looking for too long she grew somewhat tired, and her fingertips began picking at the edge of her canvas bag as she drifted into a trance.

Amster leaned against the back of his chair, his gaze looking outside through the glass window.

People came and went on the street, and the setting sun lay obliquely across the roofs, dyeing the tiles a warm golden-red.

His line of sight slowly moved to the end of the street, in the direction close to the Forbidden Forest, and suddenly paused.

That was an inconspicuous little house. A large chunk of its walls had peeled off, revealing ashen bricks. The windows were tightly shut, and the window sills had a thin layer of dust accumulated on them, stained with a few withered yellow fallen leaves.

The paint on the door panel was chipping away completely, exposing the aged wood grain underneath. At a glance, it was an abandoned house that had been vacant for many years.

But just the moment he walked past the street corner, an extremely faint yet extremely heavy aura had quietly wrapped around his perception.

It shared the same origin with the hidden disturbance in the rock crevices deep within the Forbidden Forest, and was close in aura to the ancient power touched during past trials. It was an ancient trace sunk in the passage of years and long since concealed by magic; ordinary people standing right at the door would only feel it as gloomy and dilapidated, but he alone could easily capture that layer of disturbance hidden beneath the dead silence.

"What are you looking at?" Fleur took a bite of cake, getting a bit of cream at the corner of her mouth, and looked over following his gaze, only seeing a dilapidated house. "What's so interesting about that broken house?"

Penelope also raised her eyes to look, watched quietly for a few seconds, and said softly, "That house has been empty for a long time, it looks quite desolate."

She only felt that the house was dilapidated and didn't perceive any abnormality at all.

Amster didn't reply, just quietly looking at that small house, his fingertips tapping gently on his knee.

There was no need to explain, and it couldn't be explained clearly anyway.

Cassandra glanced in that direction, withdrew her gaze with a calm expression, continued lowering her head to drink tea, and didn't ask another question.

Cho Chang blinked, also looked over, looking completely bewildered, having discovered nothing at all.

Fleur was even more clueless, figuring he was just dazing off from walking fatigue, and quickly turned her head back to look at the lively street scene outside the window with enthusiasm.

Amster still gazed at that small house far away at the street corner, knowing with utter clarity in his heart—

that ancient aura buried by time was right now faintly fluctuating toward his direction.

The setting sun gradually sank, dyeing the sky a shade of orange-red. The crowd on the street gradually thinned out, and the group also got up to walk back to the castle.

The return journey was very quiet. Amster walked at the very front, his pace not fast, but a bit heavier than when they came.

Penelope accompanied him by his side, occasionally looking up at him. Seeing him pressing his lips together without speaking, she quietly slowed her pace, walking slowly along with his rhythm.

Cassandra still lagged two steps behind, holding her thermos in her hand as the heat slowly dissipated into the slightly chilly air.

Fleur also quieted down, just gently linking his arm, keeping her steps very light.

Cho Chang walked at the very back, whispering the words she newly learned today in a soft voice, not disturbing anyone at all.

When they reached the castle gates, Amster suddenly stopped in his tracks.

He didn't turn back to ask anyone, just gazed in the direction of the Forbidden Forest, remaining silent for a moment.

The people around him all thought he was just tired and nobody thought much of it.

Penelope glanced at him gently and asked softly, "Are you tired?"

Amster shook his head and stepped into the castle.

The sky grew completely dark, the Black Lake shimmered with fine light, and one by one, the lights inside the castle lit up.

The fireplace in the Room of Requirement was burning vigorously, the firewood crackling, and the firelight swayed against the walls, casting patches of warm light.

Amster sat on the carpet in front of the fireplace, twirling a quill between his fingertips, the nib gently tapping the floor, his gaze falling upon the dancing flames without saying a word.

Penelope sat in the soft armchair opposite, holding a book, turning the pages extremely slowly with almost no sound.

She could tell Amster had something on his mind, but didn't ask much, just quietly keeping him company.

The fire in the fireplace leaped round after round, the soft sound of firewood burning exceptionally clear in the room.

After a long time, Amster finally spoke, his voice warmed by the hearth fire yet carrying an unquestionable firmness: "That small house at the end of Hogsmeade is not right."

Penelope slowly raised her head and looked at him.

"I have to go there once more." He paused, stopped the hand twirling the quill, and met her gaze: "Just these few days."

Penelope was silent for a moment, her fingertips lightly twisting the corner of her clothes, but she didn't avoid his gaze, saying softly, "Then next time, I'll go with you."

Amster looked at her and didn't speak.

"I wouldn't be at ease if you went alone." She added softly, her tone very light, yet exceptionally serious.

Outside the window, moonlight spread across the Black Lake, and the wind whipped the water vapor on the lake surface against the window glass, condensing a thin layer of mist.

The firewood in the fireplace burned down to only half left, occasionally bursting a spark that fell on the fireplace fence and quickly extinguished.

Amster looked at Penelope, remained silent for a few seconds, and finally nodded gently.

Penelope's eyes lit up for a moment. She lowered her head, her fingertips continuing to twist the corner of her clothes, but she quietly moved her armchair a little bit toward his direction, shortening the distance by half a step.

Amster twirled the quill in his hand, leaving a shallow ink mark on the carpet with the nib.

He looked towards the direction of the Forbidden Forestoutside the window; it was pitch black there, yet it felt as if something was quietly waiting for him in the night.

The heat in the room wrapped around the lingering taste of black tea, and the crackling sound of the burning firewood gradually slowed down.

Penelope reopened her book. This time, her page-turning speed was a bit faster, and the corners of her mouth still carried a trace of an imperceptible smile.

Chapter 34: The Beginning of the Third Trial

On the night returning from Hogsmeade, Amster barely slept.

The fireplace burned all night, its firelight flickering against the rough stone walls, baking the Room of Requirementwith a heavy warmth.

Amster leaned against the window, gazing at the pitch-black Black Lake outside, where moonlight fell upon the water, shattering into a faint patch of brightness.

This was what he had deliberately asked the Room of Requirement to conjure so he could look at the scenery, yet he had no mind for scenery at all right now; his mind was filled over and over again with the appearance of that dilapidated cabin at the edge of Hogsmeade.

That aura hidden within the dilapidated cabin was far too familiar to him; it was the exact same thing as the silver light in the crevices of the Forbidden Forest, and identical to the ancient power touched during the first two trials.

That was Ancient Magic.

Amster always had a special intuition, as if from a very, very long time ago, the thing inside that cabin had been waiting for him to walk step by step to where he was today.

The night was endlessly long.

Penelope had long since returned to the dormitory, and the entire castle had sunk into silence, with only the occasional soft crackle of firewood in the fireplace sounding exceptionally clear in the empty room.

Amster just sat there, doing nothing, letting that elusive ancient aura slowly rise from the bottom of his heart little by little.

He had a premonition that the tempering of the first two trials was merely a buildup, and the true test perhaps had already arrived.

As the sky just revealed a hint of twilight and Hogwartswas still shrouded in a thin morning mist, Amster got up and headed toward the Headmaster's Office.

Dumbledore was already waiting by the desk, his silver beard draped down, his fingertips leisurely turning the Pensieve, looking peaceful as if he had long anticipated that he would come.

Without unnecessary pleasantries, Amster recounted the abnormality of the cabin he perceived last night in Hogsmeade and that faint, elusive ancient aura exactly as they were.

After listening, Dumbledore slowly stood up, walked to the window, and gazed in the direction where the Forbidden Forest met Hogsmeade.

The morning breeze blew into the room, fluttering the hem of his robe, and those blue eyes appeared exceptionally deep in the twilight.

"That cabin, I know it."

His voice was very soft, without a shred of surprise.

"After you passed the first two trials, the four Keepers told me everything."

"Matters from a hundred years ago, the origin of Ancient Magic, and the secrets hidden within that house... They did not hide it from me, and I am clear on all of it."

"That you can perceive that aura is not by chance, but by destiny."

"The third trial has long been waiting for you."

Amster lifted his eyes to look at him.

"You just need to go to the Map Chamber once more."

Dumbledore turned around, took a silver key from the drawer, and gently pushed it in front of him.

"They will tell you all of the final truth."

The key felt icy to the touch; the ancient patterns carved upon it were ones he had seen twice before, already etched into his memory, familiar to the point of being couldn't-be-more-familiar.

He raised his hand to pick up the key, asked no further questions, and turned to walk out of the office.

The eighth-floor corridor was much quieter than usual, with morning light piercing through the stained glass and casting mottled patches of color on the ground.

Amster walked with familiar ease to that inconspicuous stone wall, gently pressing the key against it.

The stone wall trembled slightly like the surface of water, silently splitting open a door. Behind the door lay the spiral staircase he had walked twice before.

He walked down the steps step by step, his footsteps gently echoing among the deep stairs.

He was long familiar with this path; there was no tension like his first visit, nor the hesitation of the second, leaving only a calm certainty in his heart.

After walking for a while, the view suddenly broadened before his eyes.

The circular Map Chamber unfolded before his eyes, with its soaring dome and four huge portraits suspended on the walls.

The central Hogwarts map shimmered with a faint light; the castle, courtyards, Forbidden Forest, and Hogsmeadewere all clearly discernible in every detail.

This was Amster's third time standing here, and the appearances of the four Keepers were already deeply ingrained in his heart.

There were no unfamiliar greetings, no scrutiny like their first meeting; between them, there remained only a tacit understanding forged after experiencing two trials.

Percival Rackham spoke first, his tone gentle yet concealing a solemnity that could not be ignored: "You have come. What we have been waiting for is precisely this moment."

Niamh Fitzgerald nodded slightly, her gaze sharp yet carrying obvious approval: "You walked very steadily during the first two trials, neither blinded by power nor retreating half a step before danger. This is precisely what we wanted to see."

Charles Rookwood's expression remained stern, but his tone was much softer than the previous two times: "You have already perceived that cabin in Hogsmeade. That is not an abandoned broken house, but the endpoint of a past event from a hundred years ago, and also the beginning of your trial this time."

San Bakar's voice was deep, sounding as if it came from the depths of time: "You should remember the person mentioned in Headmaster Black's portrait—that fifth-year student who suddenly transferred a hundred years ago, the only person born with the ability to see Ancient Magic. And the owner of that cabin, Poppy Sweeting, was precisely one of the companions who always stayed by his side back then."

Amster's heart trembled slightly.

At this moment, those scattered clues finally strung themselves all together.

Rackham slowly spoke, unveiling that past buried in dust for a hundred years: "Poppy had no talent for Ancient Magic and was just an ordinary student. But she was that transfer student's most trusted companion, following him through secret realms, rescuing trapped dragons, and facing pursuits and dangers together. She did not understand Ancient Magic, yet she was willing to step into the most dangerous places for the sake of her friend."

Niamh's tone carried regret: "That transfer student's power was far too special, attracting countless prying eyes. Poppyalways guarded his side, helping him hide, helping him evade, and helping him keep those secrets that could not be spoken of to outsiders. But ultimately, during a dangerous attempt, Ancient Magic went out of control; she was heavily injured by the aftermath of the power, her consciousness sank into slumber, and she never woke up again."

"The transfer student and us had no other choice but to seal her within that cabin."

Rookwood's voice was steady: "It is not punishment, but protection. We have waited a hundred years, waiting not for another person who can manipulate Ancient Magic, but for an heir who can hold fast to their original heart and not be swallowed by power."

San Bakar looked at him, his gaze resolute: "In the first two trials, we tempered your patience, restraint, and reverence. This time, it tests neither magic nor runes, but only your heart. You must enter that cabin, face the residual Ancient Magic fluctuations from a hundred years ago, appease it with your original heart, and awaken the sleeping Poppy."

Amster was silent for a moment, then asked softly: "What if I fail?"

Rackham did not evade, his tone calm yet incomparably clear: "You will be entangled by the out-of-control power and, together with her, be trapped in that cabin forever. These are the rules of Ancient Magic, with no exceptions."

The chamber fell silent, with only the faint light of the map slowly flowing and falling upon Amster's face.

He thought of the silver light deep within the Forbidden Forest, thought of the quiet yet obstinate pull from the cabin, and thought of the moments during the first two trials where he steadied his mind again and again, resisting temptation and never retreating.

He stepped onto this path never to become stronger, nor to prove anything, but simply because this path belonged to him in the first place.

"I am willing to go."

He raised his head, his voice very soft, yet exceptionally firm.

The four Keepers breathed a sigh of relief simultaneously, their faces showing expressions of genuine relief.

Rackham gently exhorted: "Remember, Ancient Magic can see human hearts. You do not need to conquer it, nor fight against it; you only need to steady yourself, understand it, and appease it. Your heart is the only key."

As his words fell, the Hogwarts map in the center of the chamber suddenly lit up.

A golden path of light extended from the castle, passing through fields, woods, and the town, pointing straight toward the inconspicuous cabin at the edge of Hogsmeade.

The path of light was bright and stable, like a road paved long ago, quietly waiting for him to move forward.

Amster took one last look at the four Keepers and turned to walk toward the stairs.

The gazes within the portraits followed him all the way until his figure completely plunged into the darkness.

The chamber returned to silence, and the faint light of the map slowly subsided.

The third Ancient Magic trial officially commenced from this moment.

[Brothers, happy weekend. This week has been crazy busy; it's the second semester of sophomore year, and I have to change dormitories because my former roommates weren't acting like human beings. I don't have many banked chapters left either, but I will try my best to ensure an update of two chapters a day.]

Chapter 35 The Hufflepuff Girl

In the evening, Amster stood alone in front of that small cabin.

The setting sun dyed the sky a thick orange-red, and the afterglow fell obliquely on the mottled wooden walls of the cabin, making the peeling paint grain exceptionally clear.

The hinges on the door were rusted, emitting a faint creaking sound at the slightest touch. The windows were tightly shut, covered in thick dust. From the outside, this was merely an ordinary wooden cabin abandoned for a century at the end of Hogsmeade, and anyone passing by would only cast a hurried glance without lingering.

But that aura belonging to Ancient Magic was several times stronger than when sensed from a distance last night, like an invisible net firmly shrouding the cabin and tightly pulling at Amster's mind.

It was no longer a tentative probing, but carried a stubbornness bordering on grievance, frantically transmitting signals to him the moment he approached.

Amster steadied himself, reached out, and gently pushed open the half-ajar door.

Behind the door was not as narrow and cramped as he had imagined; a faint scent of dust hit him, and simultaneously, a boundless sense of space unfolded—clearly, an Undetectable Extension Charm had been cast here.

Directly facing the door was an ordinary living room, where wooden tables and chairs were placed crookedly, thick dust accumulated on the corners of the table, the sofa fabric had long since faded and cracked, and the fireplace in the corner was cold and dead. Only an old painting hanging on the wall was relatively intact; it depicted the Black Lake of Hogwarts, and on the edge of the frame, a small letter "P" was carved.

Everything exuded the desolation of time, except in the corner at the very back of the living room, between the gaps of the bookshelf, a faint sliver of silver light faintly showed. That light flickered, like a candle flame swaying in the wind, yet it carried an unquestionable ancient power.

Amster lightened his footsteps, crossed the messy living room, and walked up to the bookshelf.

He reached out and gently pushed open the seemingly heavy row of bookshelves. The bookshelf moved slowly along a preset trajectory, emitting a deep friction sound, and a flight of stone steps extending downward immediately appeared before his eyes. The stone steps were covered with glowing moss, and the faint light spread along the steps, bottomless.

Without the slightest hesitation, Amster raised his foot and stepped onto the stone steps.

The further down he walked, the stronger the aura of Ancient Magic became. At first, it merely lingered at the tip of his nose, but gradually, it wrapped around him like a tide, so intense that it almost suffocated him.

On the stone walls on both sides, glowing symbols began to emerge. Those symbols were twisted and ancient, identical to the runes he had seen in his previous two trials. They traveled all the way up along the stone walls, as if guiding or warning.

Amster's heartbeat gradually quickened, but his footsteps remained steady throughout. Following the guardians' instructions, he did not deliberately resist this aura, but simply kept his mind calm, allowing that power to pass through his body while perceiving the restlessness and unease within it.

Not knowing how long he had walked, the stone steps finally came to an end.

A circular secret chamber appeared before his eyes. The dome of the secret chamber was engraved with complex magic arrays, and on the surrounding stone walls, the symbols of the four guardians faced each other in pairs, emitting a faint golden light.

In the very center of the secret chamber, a massive ball of silver light floated quietly. The light was like flowing quicksilver, its surface covered with fine cracks. From time to time, a wisp of violent black airflow darted out from those cracks, only to be suppressed back by the silver light in an instant.

And at the core of that silver light, a slender figure was faintly visible—that was a young witch, wearing Hufflepuffhouse robes of a style from a century ago. The edges of her robes were somewhat worn, her hair was loosely pinned up at the back of her head, her eyes were tightly closed, and her brows were slightly furrowed, as if she had fallen into a long and painful dream.

Poppy Sweeting.

Amster recognized her at a glance and instantly understood the anxiety between her brows.

That was not a desire for power, but a worry for her companion.

He slowly stepped closer. The moment his fingertips touched the edge of the silver light, the ball of light shuddered violently, as if startled, or as if it had finally waited for the person it had yearned for so long. Countless tiny pieces of silver light peeled off from the surface, like stars all over the sky.

At the exact moment his palm completely covered the silver light, countless images rushed madly into his mind like a breached flood.

He saw on the sunny lawn of Hogwarts, a girl with amber eyes running and jumping after the figure of a boy. The boy's fingertips were wreathed with fine silver light, and the girl smiled brightly, running and shouting: "Cedrian, wait for me! Don't leave me behind!"

He saw at the edge of the Forbidden Forest, the boy being besieged by a group of people in black robes. Silver light exploded around him, but it gradually became inadequate.

The girl lacked any magical talent whatsoever, yet she picked up a branch from the ground and rushed forward recklessly, blocking in front of the boy with her own body, roaring at the people in black robes: "Stay away from him!"

He saw in the same circular secret chamber, Cedrian from a century ago standing in the center, facing a ball of out-of-control Ancient Magic. The light churned violently, on the verge of devouring everything.

The four guardians tried their utmost, but could only barely suppress it.

The girl knelt on the ground, looking at the boy's exhausted appearance with eyes full of determination. She quietly slipped around to the back of the magic sphere, and before anyone could react, she lunged forward, using her body to catch that most lethal ripple of magic.

"Don't mind me! Take him away!" These were her last words.

The light burst apart with a bang, the figures of the people in black robes vanished, Cedrian was pulled away by the guardians, and the girl's body, wrapped in silver light, slowly floated up, falling into eternal slumber.

Amster snapped his eyes open, his palm still pressed against the silver light. A scorching temperature radiated from his palm, and the ball of light was trembling violently, as if lamenting the tragedy of a century ago.

He finally understood that everything was just as the four guardians had said.

Poppy had never thought of mastering the power of Ancient Magic; everything she did was to protect the companion she regarded as her life.

The century-long seal was not a punishment, but a way the guardians had exhausted all means to lock away that lethal magic ripple for her, preserving her last shred of vitality.

They waited a century, not for an heir who could manipulate magic, but for someone who could read this guardianship and soothe the violent power with their true heart.

Amster looked at the figure in the light with her brows still slightly furrowed, silent for a long time.

He could sense that the violent power within the silver light was eroding her vitality bit by bit; a century of time had made this protection precarious.

He took a deep breath and spoke slowly, his voice gentle yet carrying incomparable firmness.

"Poppy Sweeting."

As his words fell, the floating silver light paused abruptly, then gently trembled again after a few seconds, as if responding to his call.

"I've come to take you back."

Amster closed his eyes, pouring all his understanding of Ancient Magic accumulated over the years into the palm of his hand.

The restraint learned from the first trial allowed him to steadily control his own power without opposing the violence in the silver light; the patience learned from the second trial enabled him to soothe the restless magic ripples bit by bit; and the loneliness of facing ancient power alone, along with the warmth accompanied by Penelope, allowed him to understand the guardianship and cherishing in Poppy's heart.

His power, like a trickling stream, slowly merged into the silver light without the slightest coercion, holding only endless understanding and tolerance.

The light in the secret chamber began to change.

At first it was just a slight tremor, and gradually, the cracks covering the surface began to heal, the black airflow darting out gradually dissipated, and the silver light grew brighter and brighter, yet no longer dazzling, instead becoming warm, like the afternoon sun, enveloping every corner of the secret chamber.

The magic array on the dome gradually lit up, and the symbols of the four guardians emitted dazzling golden light, intertwining with the silver light to form a warm cocoon of light.

In the center of the light, Poppy's fingers moved slightly.

Amster opened his eyes, meeting a pair of slowly opening amber eyes.

Those eyes were filled with confusion and exhaustion, as if just waking from a long dream, not yet seeing the world before her, yet the moment she looked at Amster, a trace of inexplicable warmth flashed through them, as if traversing a century of time to find a trace of familiar solace.

She looked at Amster, her lips moving slightly, a hoarse breath escaping her throat, but she failed to utter complete words.

Amster leaned over slightly and reached out his hand to her.

"Can you stand up?"

Poppy's gaze fell upon his hand, the confusion in those eyes gradually fading somewhat. She stared at that hand for a few seconds, then slowly raised her own hand and gently grasped his.

Her fingers were ice-cold, yet carried a trace of faint strength.

The moment her fingertips touched Amster's palm, the surrounding silver and golden lights instantly dissipated, retreating like a tide to reveal the original appearance of the secret chamber—an empty stone room, with stone walls engraved with the symbols of the guardians, and on the central floor, traces of the magic array from a century ago still remained.

With Amster's strength, Poppy slowly steadied her body, yet did not let go of his hand.

She held onto his arm to steady herself, her gaze sweeping across every corner of the secret chamber and finally landing on Amster's face, her voice hoarse yet exceptionally clear.

"Who are you?"

"Amster." He did not say his full surname, merely calling out his first name softly, knowing that a century ago at Hogwarts, there was no legend belonging to this surname.

Poppy blinked, a flash of confusion crossing her amber eyes. She seemed as if she wanted to say something, but swallowed it back, simply nodding lightly.

Amster did not offer much explanation, simply supporting her arm and turning to walk toward the stone steps.

"Let's go, the air above will be a bit better."

The two of them slowly moved up along the stone steps, the glowing moss illuminating the path ahead, and the ancient symbols on the stone walls gradually dimmed, as if completing their century-long mission.

Emerging from the space enveloped by the Undetectable Extension Charm and returning to the dusty living room, Poppy couldn't help stopping in her tracks, looking at the old painting of the Black Lake on the wall, her fingertips gently brushing against the small letter "P" on the frame, a trace of nostalgia flashing in her eyes.

Amster did not urge her, just standing quietly beside her.

A moment later, Poppy withdrew her gaze and followed him out of the cabin.

By this time, the sky had grown completely dark. A full moon hung in the night sky, and bright moonlight spilled over the streets of Hogsmeade, illuminating the flagstone road like daytime and stretching the shadows of the two figures long and close together.

Poppy stood at the doorway of the cabin, taking a deep breath. The crisp, cold air rushed into her lungs, clearing her chaotic mind quite a bit.

She looked up into the distance; the silhouette of Hogwarts Castle was clearly visible under the moonlight, and specks of light shone from the castle's windows, warm and bright.

"More than a hundred years," she said softly, her voice carrying indescribably complex emotions—nostalgia, sentiment, and a hint of trepidation toward an unfamiliar world. "Has Hogwarts changed?"

Amster also looked toward the castle following her gaze; those lights were like stars, illuminating the journey home in the dark night.

"It has changed; the castle has a few new towers, and more mistletoe has been planted by the Black Lake."

He paused and added, "And it hasn't changed; the hearth fires in the castle are still warm, the professors are still strict, the students still chase and frolic in the corridors, and, the moonlight on the Black Lake is exactly the same as the one in your painting."

Poppy turned to look at him, a trace of amusement flashing in her amber eyes. The corners of her mouth curved slightly upward, revealing a faint smile, and her exhausted face instantly came to life.

"You talk really interestingly."

Amster looked at her smile and also gently curved the corners of his mouth.

He didn't say anything more, simply supporting her arm and walking slowly along the moonlit path toward Hogwarts Castle.

The night breeze blew gently, carrying the fresh fragrance of vegetation from Hogwarts Castle. The moonlight was bright and clean, spilling over the two of them, warm and soft.

The century-long slumber had finally ended, and the century-long guardianship had finally found its destination.

In the distant castle, inside Dumbledore's office, a desk lamp was still lit. The old man sat at the desk, the Pensieve in his hands spinning slowly, his gaze looking toward the direction of Hogsmeade, a gentle smile blooming on his face.

This is major content, so I wrote a bit more. I ran it through a detector, and it actually said my AI traces were so heavy—just shattering gently like that.

Chapter 36 Welcome Back

On the walk back to the castle from Hogsmeade, Poppykept very quiet.

She walked beside Amster with very light steps, her body still weak from a century of deep slumber, and she did not walk fast.

Her amber eyes occasionally swept over the scenery along the road—taller and denser trees than in her memory, stone paths worn smooth by passing pedestrians, and the scattered lights of the distant castle flickering in the night, both familiar and strange.

"It has changed a lot," she softly said, her voice very faint and almost drowned out by the evening breeze, "and yet it seems unchanged."

Amster did not reply, only deliberately slowing his pace so she could look slowly and gradually adapt to this place she had been parted from for a century.

Moonlight fell upon their shoulders, drawing their shadows long, and the entire journey was quiet yet not awkward.

When they walked to the castle gates, Dumbledore was already standing there waiting.

He wore dark purple robes, his silver-white beard hanging down his chest and glowing softly under the moonlight.

The moment he saw Poppy, a trace of faint emotion flashed through his azure eyes, as if he were seeing a long-sealed fragment of old time.

"Welcome back, Miss Sweeting." His tone was gentle, yet carried the solemnity unique to a headmaster.

Poppy looked up at him, tilting her head slightly with a calm expression: "When I fell asleep, the headmaster wasn't you."

Dumbledore smiled, his tone carrying a touch of the humor of time: "Indeed. I have taken over Hogwarts for many years. But you should have heard of me; when I was in my first year, you happened to be in your seventh year. My surname is Dumbledore."

Poppy froze for a moment, and then a hint of sudden realization and amusement welled up in her eyes, as if recalling some vague fragments.

"So it's you," she softly said, "I remember now, that little one who just entered school, always hugging books and hiding in the corner of the Library, not liking to talk or play with other children. I never expected that you would end up becoming the headmaster."

Dumbledore nodded with a smile, no longer chatting about the past, and returned to the matter at hand: "However, now we must first solve the problem of your lodging."

Poppy blinked, her tone carrying a bit of soft expectation: "Is my cabin still there?"

"It is still there," Dumbledore nodded, "only it has been vacant for a century and is terribly dilapidated, needing a thorough cleaning up."

He looked at Amster, his tone calm, being both a commission and trust: "Leave this matter to you."

Amster did not decline, and gently nodded.

Early the next morning, just as the sky grew fully bright, Amster brought Poppy back to that cabin at the edge of Hogsmeade.

Seen in the daytime, the cabin appeared even more dilapidated than at night.

Large areas of paint on the walls had peeled off, revealing the blackened wood underneath; the window frames were crooked, the glass covered in a layer of dust so thick the outside couldn't be seen; a corner of the stone steps in front of the door had collapsed, and weeds drilled out from the cracks in the stones, growing messily.

Yet Poppy stood at the doorway, staring at this dilapidated wooden house, her eye sockets quietly turning red.

"It's still here," she whispered, her voice trembling slightly, "not changed at all."

She reached out and pushed open the door, the wooden door emitting a muffled creak.

Thick dust had fallen inside the house, tables and chairs were scattered haphazardly, a few clusters of wild grass even sprouted from the corners of the walls, and wind poured in through the broken windows, whipping up fine dust motes—filled with a forgotten desolation.

Yet Poppy seemed unable to see this dilapidation, stepping inside pace by pace, her fingertips gently brushing across the crooked desk, the worn chair, and the old bookshelf standing against the wall.

Every time she touched an old item, her gaze softened a fraction, as if greeting an old friend she hadn't seen for a long time.

"This is my home," she softly said, her tone light yet exceptionally resolute, "a hundred years ago, I lived right here."

Amster stood at the doorway, not going in to disturb, just quietly waiting.

After quite a while, Poppy turned around and looked at him, genuine gratitude in her eyes: "Thank you."

Amster shook his head and stepped into the house: "Let's start cleaning up."

For a whole day, the two of them sorted and tidied this cabin that had been abandoned for a century.

Poppy was familiar with everything here and was responsible for distinguishing what things should be kept, what should be thrown away, and what could still be used after some repairs.

Her movements were very slow, yet very earnest, touching every old item as if confirming they were truly still there.

Amster, on the other hand, took on all the heavy work, waving his wand to clear away accumulated dust, repair damaged furniture, and straighten crooked bookshelves—his movements deft, speaking very little, yet always steady and reliable.

When cleaning to the bottom layer of the bookshelf, Poppyrummaged out an old wooden box.

The box's latch was rusted shut, and she used a bit of effort to pry it open, inside which were several yellowed, curled-edge notebooks.

She picked up one and opened it; the paper bore her handwriting from youth, densely filled with conjectures and records about Ancient Magic.

"My notes," she looked at the pages, her tone carrying a trace of self-deprecating melancholy, "back then I always thought about helping my friend record this kind of power, to prevent accidents from happening in the future."

She fell silent for a moment, gently closed the notebook, and put it back into the box: "As a result, the accident still came too abruptly."

Amster didn't speak, only continuing to wipe the dust-filled windows; his wand swept across, dust falling in rustles, and the glass gradually became translucent.

Poppy looked at his busy back and suddenly asked: "Why are you helping me?"

The movement of Amster's hands paused for a moment.

He thought of Professor McGonagall's stern yet always fair teachings, Snape's silent yet never ambiguous guidance, Flitwick's gentle encouragement, Sprout's meticulous care, Penelope's constant companionship, Cedric's sincere assistance, and Dumbledore's gaze that could always see through everything yet never said too much.

"Because someone helped me," he said calmly.

Poppy blinked and pursued the question: "Who?"

Amster didn't elaborate, only saying indifferently: "Many people."

Poppy looked at him and suddenly chuckled softly: "You really are a strange person."

When the setting sun slanted westward, the cabin was finally tidied up properly.

The windows were wiped clean, and the warm golden afterglow slanted inward, falling on the repaired wooden table; the old bookshelf returned to its original place, and Poppy's notebooks were neatly arranged; a fire was lit in the fireplace, flames dancing, dispelling a century's chill as warmth slowly filled the entire room.

Poppy sat on the rug before the fireplace, hugging her knees and gazing at the dancing firelight, her expression quiet and secure.

"Here... is alive again," she softly said.

Amster stood at the doorway, and seeing everything tidied up properly, prepared to leave.

Just as he was about to take a step, Poppy suddenly called out to him: "Amster."

He turned back.

The firelight from the fireplace reflected on Poppy's face, her amber eyes bright and soft, carrying a hint of cautious anticipation: "In the future... can I come find you?"

Amster was silent for a second, nodded gently, and gave her a definite answer: "Room of Requirement, eighth floor."

Poppy smiled, that smile very light, yet carrying a settled peace of mind, as if having found a place to settle down in a strange era.

Amster gave her a slight nod, pushed open the door, and walked into the gradually deepening night.

Behind him, the cabin's light filtered out through the windows, casting a small patch of warm yellow light on the quiet streets of Hogsmeade, gentle and secure.

Chapter 37 Amster Said the Title Walked Away

The day after tidying up the cabin, Amster led Poppy to the Room of Requirement. He carefully explained the trick of this room to her, saying that as long as she thought about finding him in her heart, she could find the correct door. He also had her try reciting his name silently, and only after watching a wooden door slowly emerge on the wall did he truly feel at ease.

A few days later, dusk slowly crept in, and the evening breeze passed through the woods outside the castle, carrying the fresh, earthy scent of grass and soil as it gently brushed against the stonework. Amster sat by the window of the Room of Requirement, staring blankly at the formation blueprints sent by Flamel. The corners of the blueprints were long since curled from being flipped through; his fingertips tapped lightly on the intricate stellar patterns upon them, and his wand occasionally tapped gently on the table, as if he were checking the patterns and incantations one by one. The room was very quiet, with only the rustling sound of turning pages mixed with the occasional crackling sound of firewood burning in the fireplace, lingering leisurely in the room.

Just at that moment, a soft knock came from outside the door, in groups of three, with a steady and unhurried rhythm.

Amster put down the quill in his hand, pushed the blueprints to the corner of the table, and got up to open the door. Poppy stood outside the door, holding a steaming baking pan in her arms. Her cheeks were flushed from the heat, and her fingertips unconsciously picked at the edge of the cloth wrapped around the baking pan, her appearance carrying a bit of awkwardness while hiding a shallow anticipation.

"I baked some cookies." Her voice was soft, her gaze lowered to the tips of her shoes, revealing a bit of embarrassment, "I don't know if it's to your taste, would you like to try some?"

Amster stepped aside slightly: "Come in."

Poppy stepped into the room, looking around curiously. The fire in the fireplace was burning brightly, and the warm, cozy glow spread out with warmth. A row of tall bookshelves stood by the wall, with books neatly stacked, exuding an orderly atmosphere. Spread out on the table by the window were blueprints, notes covered in handwriting, and a cup of peppermint tea that had long since gone cold. The room was not spacious, but it was kept neat and tidy, making anyone who stayed here feel at ease.

"Is this where you usually stay?" She looked up at Amster, smiles rippling in the depths of her eyes, "It's very comfortable."

Amster pointed to the chair by the fireplace: "Sit."

Poppy walked over and sat down as told, her body having just touched the chair surface when the door was pushed open again.

Fleur poked her head in, and upon seeing an unfamiliar girl in the room, she froze for a moment, then walked in quickly.

"We have a guest?" She looked at Poppy and spoke with a smile, "Hello, I'm Fleur. And you are?"

Poppy quickly stood up, her expression a bit restrained: "My name is Poppy Sweeting. I am... um..."

"She lives in that cabin in Hogsmeade, and is a person from a hundred years ago." Amster calmly came to her rescue.

Fleur instantly widened her eyes, her face full of disbelief.

"A hundred years?" She repeated, walking quickly in front of Poppy, "You were asleep for a hundred years?"

Just as the words fell, Penelope walked in holding a stack of books. Catching a glimpse of Poppy, her footsteps paused for a moment, she nodded gently as a greeting, and then put the books away on the bookshelf. Cassandrafollowed behind, holding a cup of hot tea in her hand, merely sweeping a calm glance at Poppy without saying much, and found a seat on the other side to sit down. Cho Chang came in last, holding a book in her hands, curiously sizing up Poppy for a couple of glances before quietly sitting down as well.

For a moment, several people were standing in the room, and the air fell silent for a moment. Poppy stood in the middle, radiating discomfort all over.

It was Fleur who broke the silence first. She leaned over to the baking pan and sniffed, her eyes lighting up instantly: "Are these the cookies you baked? They smell so amazing!"

Poppy breathed a sigh of relief and quickly handed the baking pan forward: "Have a taste."

Fleur picked up a piece and took a bite, her eyebrows instantly curving into a smile: "Delicious! Even better than the desserts in the Hogwarts dining hall!"

The tense atmosphere suddenly relaxed.

Penelope also stepped forward to take a piece, tasted it carefully, and nodded gently: "The flavor is very good."

Cassandra still didn't move, her gaze merely sweeping across the baking pan, the corners of her mouth curving down into an extremely faint arc, so fast that people could barely catch it.

Cho Chang also crowded over to take a piece, asking casually: "What do you usually like to do? I see Amsteralways delving into ancient runes."

Poppy froze slightly, speaking in a soft voice: "In the past, I always felt that I didn't have much magical talent, so I plunged headfirst into Ancient Magic, thinking I could prove myself. Now that I've woken up, I instead feel that these things aren't that important anymore." She paused, looking at Cho Chang with curiosity in the depths of her eyes, "It's just that many things nowadays feel very fresh to me."

Light flickered in Cho Chang's eyes: "Then we have plenty to talk about. I've been reading some ancient magical legends recently, and they are particularly interesting. We can chat about them together sometime."

Poppy turned her head to look at Amster, who was gazing right at her with a gentle look in his eyes. She curved the corners of her mouth and nodded gently: "Okay."

The Room of Requirement that night was much livelier than usual.

Holding the baking pan, Fleur ate with great relish, pulling Poppy over from time to time to chat about baking tips. Penelope occasionally brought up the classes in the castle with a calm and soothing tone. Cassandra sat to one side drinking tea, quietly listening to everyone talk, occasionally speaking up to offer a few insights that were concise and pertinent. Cho Chang and Poppy hit it off the most, talking from current magic classes to Hogwarts a hundred years ago. Poppy listened attentively and gradually began to speak of the castle's appearance in her memory. Her voice remained soft, but it was much steadier, losing the awkwardness and panic of their first meeting.

Amster sat by the window, not chiming in much, just quietly watching the scene before him. The firewood in the fireplace crackled, and the warm yellow firelight paved the entire room, softening everyone's figures. There was no intentionally created commotion, nor any awkward silence; the few of them chatted casually, yet they were all tightly wrapped in this room's warmth, comfortable and secure.

His gaze remained fixed on Poppy. She and Cho Changwere having a wonderful conversation, with genuine smiles hanging on her face, and the confusion and helplessness in the depths of her eyes gradually dissipated. The panic and unease when she first woke from her slumber, along with the unfamiliarity and alienation from everything around her, faded away little by little through such interaction. She was no longer that girl standing in place at a loss, but would take the initiative to strike up a conversation, laugh along with others, and listen attentively to every word. Her entire being gradually took on a vibrant aura.

The night outside the window grew darker and darker, and the lights in the castle lit up one after another, the gentle light intertwining with the warmth inside the room. There was no estrangement brought by time, no distance brought by status, only simple companionship, quiet interaction, and a hint of gentleness quietly growing within the dancing firelight.

Poppy had finally truly awakened from a hundred years of slumber.

Chapter 38 Quidditch Match

On the first weekend of November, the HogwartsQuidditch pitch was already packed to the brim.

The late autumn wind carried a hint of chill, making the flags on the stands flutter noisily; the red and gold and green and silver flags mixed together, making the eyes dizzy.

Students from both sides had long since grabbed their spots, and their shouts could be heard from far away.

Amster leaned against a stone pillar in the corner of the stands, the stone cool and quite comfortable against the palm of his hand.

A crowd was squeezed around him; Fleur sat next to him, her skirt brushing against his arm, her eyes shining like little stars as she stared intently at the pitch.

Penelope sat nearby, the book in her hands long since tucked into her bag, sitting quietly without missing a single movement on the field.

Cassandra held a cup of hot tea with wisps of steam rising from the rim, her expression calm, still looking the same as ever.

Cho Chang leaned against the railing, turning her head to chat with Poppy beside her, while Poppy sat at the very edge, staring unblinkingly at midair.

One hundred years ago, Hogwarts already had flying lessons, quidditch matches, and flying brooms.

He was no stranger to flying brooms, having seen the latest models from over a hundred years ago, one of which was still kept in that room.

It is just that looking at those new models on the pitch—flying so fast and steady, looking smooth to the touch—he could not help muttering softly: "Brooms really are different nowadays; they are much easier to use and far steadier than the ones I have seen or used before."

Cassandra glanced at the players flitting through the air, her tone flat: "The craftsmanship has changed quite a bit; both balance and speed have been improved, so it is not that easy for problems to arise."

Hearing this, Fleur let out a chuckle and reached out to gently poke Poppy on the arm: "Do not listen to her sounding like she is chanting a spell; just watch the match, it is really interesting."

Cho Chang smiled and chimed in, raising a hand to point at the tiny, glittering golden dot in midair: "Look at that, that is the Golden Snitch; if the Seeker catches it first, the match ends immediately."

The Snitch was too small, darting back and forth among the players, making one strain the eyes after staring for too long.

Penelope fished a small pair of binoculars out of her bag and handed them over: "Use these, you will be able to see more clearly."

Poppy took the binoculars, brought them to her eyes, and adjusted them; the streak of golden light instantly became clear, dodging back and forth.

Her eyes lit up, and she said softly: "I see it, it runs so fast, just like light."

Amster did not speak, just watched quietly, the corners of his mouth curving up slightly—so slightly that one would not notice unless looking closely.

His gaze followed the figures of the players, sitting quietly and seldom chiming in.

As the whistle blew, the match began.

The players mounted their brooms and flew up into the sky all at once; Chasers flew back and forth holding the Quaffle, Beaters swung their bats to knock away the Bludgers, and the Keeper guarded the front of the hoops, staring intently at the goal.

The sound of brooms cutting through the air, the shouts of the players, and the cheers from the stands blended together, making one feel warm and excited inside.

The scores of Slytherin and Gryffindor rose and fell by turns, and every offense and defense brought a commotion from the stands, with flags waving more fiercely and shouts growing louder.

Fleur was a die-hard supporter of Slytherin, clenching her fists and shouting at the top of her lungs, not stopping even when her voice grew a little hoarse.

Penelope was not particularly excited, just clapping lightly a couple of times whenever she saw a brilliant piece of teamwork, her expression remaining calm.

Cassandra still held her teacup with no extra expression, but her eyes never left the pitch.

Cho Chang slowly explained the rules to Poppy on the side—what each position did and how scoring worked—while Poppy listened attentively, nodding from time to time, and occasionally chiming in with a remark about broom control.

The wind gradually became less chilly, and the sun spilled through the clouds, gilding the brooms in midair with a pale golden sheen.

Both Seekers stared intently at the Golden Snitch, now diving, now sharp-turning, chasing it in a way that made hearts leap into throats, terrified of missing an opportunity with a single blink.

Cheers in the stands rose one after another, and the colors of red and gold and green and silver flickered back and forth, looking exceptionally lively.

After chasing for a long time, the Seeker for Slytherinseized an opportunity and snatched the Snitch the moment it brushed past the goalposts.

The whistle of the referee sounded with a "beep—", and the match was over.

Slytherin won!

The green and silver camp in the stands instantly erupted; the players rode their brooms in circles in midair, laughing and shouting, and the atmosphere was exceptionally enthusiastic.

Fleur let out a long sigh of relief, her eyes curving into crescents as she smiled: "They won! That was so brilliant!"

Seeing her happy appearance, Poppy smiled along: "They really played well, and their teamwork was exceptionally in sync."

Cho Chang put away the binoculars and rubbed her neck: "Staring for so long, my neck is stiff, but it was worth it; this match was wonderful."

Penelope stood up, gently patted the grass clippings off her skirt, and turned to glance at Amster.

Amster also slowly straightened up, his gaze still resting on the gradually emptying pitch, without any particular expression.

Cassandra drank the last of the tea in her cup, placed the cup down on the stone platform beside her, and said nothing.

"Let us go," Amster said softly.

Several people followed the flow of the crowd walking down; the steps were a bit steep, so they shuffled along slowly.

Fleur was still chattering to Penelope about the brilliant moments from earlier, and Penelope listened patiently, occasionally responding with a word or two.

Cho Chang and Poppy walked together, chatting about the flying techniques just now, while Cassandra walked alongside them quietly, keeping pace.

Poppy walked at the very end, unable to resist turning back for a glance.

The setting sun dyed the sky orange, warm and gentle; the afterglow spread across the empty lawn, and the broom racks stood neatly to one side.

When the wind blew, the blades of grass swayed slightly, carrying a faint fragrance of plants.

Looking at the quieted pitch and listening to the chatter and laughter of friends beside her, the heart of Poppysuddenly felt settled.

When she first arrived, she had felt that this place was unfamiliar and distant, but now standing here, it only felt warm and secure.

She quickened her pace, caught up with the people ahead, and slowly left the pitch along with the crowd.

Chapter 39: Corner of the Library

The hustle and bustle brought by the Quidditch Matchcame quickly and left just as fast. Hogwarts returned to its usual quiet state. The wind blew over from the Forbidden Forest, carrying the chill of early spring as it swept through the corridors and gently tapped against the glass windows of the Library, producing a barely audible sound.

The afternoon sunlight was not too harsh, slanting in through the stained glass and dragging long patches of color across the floor. The Library was very quiet, with only the occasional soft rustle of turning pages and the faint, sun-warmed scent of old paper.

Amster walked towards the window holding a few thick magic books, his fingertips pressed against the spines, his footsteps very light. Just as he was about to turn into his usual corner, someone suddenly stood in front of him.

It was Cho Chang.

Today, she was wearing Ravenclaw's blue school uniform. Her long hair fell over her shoulders without any deliberate styling, looking very natural. She was cradling a thick book with a dark cover in her arms, her fingers lightly tapping against it as if afraid it would fall. Seeing Amster look over, she paused slightly and spoke in a very soft voice: "Are you free today?"

Amster stopped in his tracks, his gaze falling on the book. It was "Origins of Eastern Ancient Magic, which he had dug out from the Restricted Section a few days ago; the corners were somewhat worn and the pages had turned yellowish. Previously, Cho Chang had casually mentioned her interest in eastern magic, so he had casually lent it to her.

"There are some parts I don't understand, and I wanted to ask you." She raised the book slightly, her tone carrying a hint of embarrassment yet full of earnestness.

Amster nodded: "I'm free."

Without saying much more, the two walked together toward the window seat at the very back of the Library. There were fewer people here, the lighting was soft, and the table was warmed by the sun—a place Amster and a few girls usually frequented.

Cho Chang slowly pulled out a chair and sat down, placing the book flat on the table with movements so light there was almost no sound. Amster sat down opposite her, resting his elbows casually on the edge of the table, waiting quietly.

Cho Chang opened the book, her fingertips stopping on a page of translation, her brows knitting gently: "It talks about 'Qi' here, and I don't quite understand it. The English translation is a bit weird; it says it's the source of all things and also that it flows—what on earth is it?"

She looked up at him, real confusion in her eyes.

Amster lowered his head to glance at that passage; the translation was stiff, tearing the original meaning into disjointed pieces. He fell silent for a moment, his fingertips lightly tapping the page, his voice low and his pace steady: "In ancient Chinese legend, Qi is a force hidden between heaven and earth; it cannot be seen nor touched."

He paused, as if recalling something: "When it is still, it resides within mountains, rocks, vegetation, and trees, motionless, maintaining the appearance of all things. When it moves, the wind walks, water flows, and clouds drift—all of these are the movement of Qi. It isn't the kind of energy waved out by a wand, yet it is omnipresent."

Cho Chang listened very attentively; her previously knitted brows slowly relaxed, and her eyes brightened a bit. The magic taught at Hogwarts relied on incantations, wands, and releasing power outward; she had never heard of such a natural and introverted description.

"Isn't that different from our magic?" she asked softly.

Amster raised his eyes, meeting her gaze, his tone becoming slightly lighter: "Magic is used outwardly, while Qi is cultivated inwardly." He paused, his voice so soft it almost melted into the air, "I learned these when I was a child."

"You learned them in China?" A hint of pleasant surprise appeared in Cho Chang's eyes.

Amster nodded and didn't elaborate.

Cho Chang instantly cheered up, her tone becoming brisk: "Then you must know how to recite ancient poems, right? I especially like Li Bai's poetry; it feels so beautiful. Do you?"

Amster fell silent for a moment, as if remembering something, and softly began to speak, his voice gentle and carrying the unique rhythm of the Chinese language:

"Bright moonlight before my bed, / Suspected to be frost on the ground."

It was a very simple sentence, but recited from his mouth, it had a quiet and distant flavor.

Cho Chang's eyes lit up, and she followed along to recite it once. Her pronunciation wasn't quite accurate, but she was very earnest. After finishing, she couldn't help but smile, her eyebrows curving: "You recite it so nicely, much more standard than mine. Because I've lived here in Britain since I was little and then came to Hogwarts, my family didn't have much time to teach me Chinese."

She picked up a quill, dipped it in ink, and slowly wrote on a blank piece of parchment: "Raising my head to gaze at the bright moon, lowering my head to think of your hometown." Her handwriting was neat and pretty, and every single stroke was very earnest.

After finishing, she put down her pen and looked at Amster.

Unexpectedly, looking at that line of words, he softly asked: "What does this sentence mean?"

Cho Chang was stunned for a moment, then burst out laughing: "Didn't you learn it? Why are you asking me?"

"Having learned it doesn't mean understanding all of it." Amster's tone was ordinary, without a trace of awkwardness, still staring at that line of words.

Cho Chang withdrew her smile, sat up a bit straighter, thought about it seriously, and slowly said: "It just means raising your head to see the moon, and lowering your head makes you think of your hometown. When a person has been away for a long time, seeing the same moon makes them miss the place they used to be."

She spoke very softly, as if she could empathize with that emotion.

Amster didn't speak, only looking at the Chinese characters on the paper. The sunlight fell on his face, softening his contours and leaving his gaze quiet, revealing not too much emotion.

Cho Chang looked at him, her heart softening slightly. After hesitating for a long time, she asked in a low voice: "Do you ever get homesick?"

The surroundings fell quiet for a few seconds, with only the soft sound of the wind brushing against the glass outside the window.

Amster slowly raised his eyes, his tone calm yet very affirmative: "Here is my home."

Cho Chang was startled for a moment and didn't ask further, only nodding gently. She knew some matters didn't need deep probing; if he didn't want to talk about it, she wouldn't ask.

The two lowered their heads to read again. The sunlight slowly shifted, moving from the tabletop to the spine of the book, and then to the stone wall behind them. Time passed very slowly, and very steadily.

The Library remained quiet, with only the sound of paper rubbing against paper and the occasional footsteps of the librarian walking past in the distance.

Not knowing how much time had passed, Cho Changsuddenly spoke in a low voice: "Amster."

He raised his eyes: "Hm?"

"Thank you."

Amster looked at her. Cho Chang didn't raise her head, her cheeks burning slightly, her eyes lowered to gaze at the book pages, her eyelashes trembling gently while the corners of her mouth quietly curved upwards a bit.

"Thank you for being willing to teach me," she added.

Amster looked at her quietly for a moment before speaking softly: "If you want to learn, I will teach."

Cho Chang raised her head abruptly, her eyes sparkling, her smile unable to be contained, and her whole person appearing brisk.

Right at that moment, footsteps came from behind the bookshelf, somewhat distinct in the quiet environment.

The two raised their heads to look at the same time.

Penelope walked out holding a stack of books piled so high it almost blocked her line of sight. Usually calm and composed, she noticeably paused her steps at this moment upon seeing the two people in the corner, her expression stiffening slightly.

She gazed at Amster and Cho Chang sitting side by side, and at the smile in Cho Chang's eyes, standing frozen in place for a moment without moving.

After a few seconds, she came to her senses and nodded slightly to acknowledge them, her attitude polite yet carrying a sense of distance. Then she turned and walked quickly to the other side of the Library, finding a table further away to sit down, deliberately avoiding the direction of this side.

Amster's gaze softly landed on her back, where he could see her ears turning red quietly. When this girl was shy, her ears would always turn red.

Cho Chang saw it too; she pressed her lips together, the smile on her face fading. Without speaking, she lowered her head again, her fingers unconsciously and lightly stroking the pages of the book.

The sunlight remained warm, the Library remained quiet, and everything looked just as it had a moment ago.

But in the air, there was a bit of indescribable subtlety—faint and light. No one spoke, yet everyone could feel it.

The sound of turning pages continued, light and shadow moved slowly, and the afternoon time flowed quietly, quietly hiding those unspoken thoughts of the young girl inside the Library of Hogwarts.

Chapter 40: Re-visiting The Burrow

Days slipped by so fast that you couldn't even catch them.

The wind at Hogwarts grew colder and colder, and before you knew it, the Christmas holidays were right around the corner.

The pumpkin lanterns in the corridor had long been removed, but the torches on the walls were still burning, their orange flames licking the cold stone walls and stretching shadows long and thin.

Yet, the chill still seeped out from the cracks in the stones, and the wind drilled through the gaps in the castle, carrying fine, gritty snowflakes that struck the glass windows with a rustling sound that made one shrink back in the cold.

Fine snow drifted outside the window, falling onto the surface of the Black Lake, melting the moment it touched the water without leaving a single ripple.

Night fell exceptionally early, the spires of the castle bit by bit swallowed by the twilight, and the entire school was frighteningly quiet, save for the occasional sound of an owl flapping its wings, abruptly piercing the stillness.

On the very last evening before the holiday, Amster holed up in the Room of Requirement to organize his notes.

A thick stack of Alchemy manuscripts piled up on the desk, with wet ink stains still lingering on the paper from a careless spill just moments before.

Yet his thoughts inevitably drifted to Percy's invitation in the Great Hall that afternoon.

"My mum... asked me to ask you. Are you coming to The Burrow for Christmas? You didn't go last year, and everyone misses you a lot."

Amster only replied with a single word at the time.

"Okay."

"Fantastic! I'll write to my mum right now! Charlie and Bill are coming back too, and they've kept saying they want to see you."

Before the words had even faded, he had already dashed off, his footsteps pattering down the corridor until he quickly vanished from sight.

He lowered his head and flipped through his notes, folding down the corner of the page that wrote about dragon scale Alchemy, thinking to himself that, according to Percy, Charlie was now working at a dragon reserve, so maybe they could chat a bit when he got back.

The Christmas Eve wind wrapped in snow blew past the castle spires, howling like someone whispering softly in the distance.

Amster followed Percy to the fireplace in Diagon Alley, grabbed a handful of Floo powder stored in an old linen pouch that felt a bit coarse against his palm.

The flames instantly enveloped his body, the wind roaring in his ears, but the scent of The Burrow reached his nose a step ahead—the charred aroma of baked bread, the warm fragrance of firewood, and the sweet smell of Molly's gingerbread, so familiar it softened one's heart.

He landed a bit heavily, fireplace ash clinging to the hem of his black robes, which he casually patted off.

Just as he stood straight, Molly's loud yet exceptionally gentle voice came from the kitchen, clearly audible even through the door.

"They're here! Is that Amster? Come over and have a cup of hot cocoa! I just baked it, and added marshmallows!"

Percy laughed and pulled him toward the living room with a strong grip that made him stumble slightly.

Two red heads immediately poked out from the staircase banister, and Fred and George slid right down the banister, catching Amster's arms on either side with a familiarity as if they had known each other for a lifetime.

"Well, well, our Alchemy consultant has finally arrived." Fred arched an eyebrow, shaking a piece of candy wrapper pinched in his hand.

"Exactly, exactly, we've been waiting for you for ages." George chimed in.

The two exchanged a glance and grinned mischievously together.

Before Amster could speak, the kitchen door was pushed open, and Molly walked over carrying hot cocoa, flour still smudged on her apron and her hair loosely gathered with a hair ribbon.

She hurried over and pulled him into a tight embrace, her arms full of the sweet fragrance of baked apples and the warmth of firewood.

"Good boy, you've gotten thin again. Hogwarts' food definitely isn't as good as home. Tonight we have roast chicken, beef stew, all your favorites, and pumpkin pie—eat up, don't stand on ceremony at all."

"I know, Aunt Molly."

Amster felt a bit awkward from the hug, but still gently patted her back.

Arthur stood up from the sofa, the Muggle encyclopedia on his knees still curled at the edges, its pages covered in messy notes.

He waved enthusiastically at him, his steps a bit hurried, almost kicking the rug near his feet.

"Sit down, sit down! I've newly acquired a few Mugglegadgets—a radio and a glowing little table lamp—I'll show you later! Muggle things are simply amazing, even more interesting than magic!"

Just as Amster sat down, his gaze fell upon an unfamiliar red-headed young man nearby.

His skin was a sunburned light brown, rough from wind and sun, with a faint scar on his temple—probably scratched by a dragon's claw.

He smiled warmly and enthusiastically, very much like the twins.

It was Charlie.

Freshly returned from Romania, where he had been taking care of young dragons at the dragon reserve, his hands were covered in thick calluses, with a bit of unwashed dirt trapped between his fingers.

He spoke with the rugged aura of someone who spent year-round outdoors, his voice low.

"I've heard my brothers mention you for ages. I heard you've been living at Hogwarts since you were in first year and could already publish papers—that's really impressive."

Charlie reached out and patted his arm with sincere admiration.

Footsteps came from the stairs, pattering, slow and steady.

A tall young man walked down slowly, his red hair tied into a low ponytail, a simple silver stud in his ear, wearing an Egyptian-style linen robe, carrying a composed demeanor with a faint sense of aloofness from a long journey.

It was Bill.

He worked as a curse-breaker at Gringotts in Egypt, mostly handling peripheral mechanisms and not yet touching dangerous tombs, wearing a ring engraved with ancient Egyptian runes on his hand.

"I heard from my mum that you helped Percy a lot at school. He has a stubborn personality, and having someone to talk to is thanks to you. Thanks a lot."

Bill's voice was very gentle as he handed over a cup of hot cocoa, the cup's wall still retaining a warm temperature.

Amster shook his head and took the cup, saying, "It's nothing, Percy is very earnest."

"Percy is just too serious a boy, and not many people can genuinely win his approval."

Bill smiled, his gaze falling on Percy with a trace of helpless doting.

Percy immediately blushed, clutching the corner of his clothes and whispering a rebuttal in a voice as thin as a mosquito's buzz: "I didn't, I just think one should be earnest when doing things."

Amster's gaze swept across the corner.

Ginny was still sitting in the same spot as last year, the fireplace's firelight reflecting her red hair like a small burning flame.

She kept her head down, twisting her skirt hem fiercely until her fingers turned white, yet she quietly looked up at him.

The moment their gazes met, she hurriedly looked away, her cheeks instantly turning red.

She was a little bolder than last time, daring to steal a few extra glances at him.

Ron sat on the other side, holding an old toy broomstick, staring this way with envy and curiosity—full of a young boy's little thoughts.

Seeing Amster look over, he quickly lowered his head again, pretending to fiddle intently with the thing in his hand.

The aroma of dinner quickly filled the entire room, drifting in the air and making stomachs rumble.

Roast chicken, beef stew, and roasted potatoes were piled high, clay plates steaming, with the pumpkin pie placed right in the middle, dusted with a thin layer of powdered sugar.

Molly sat nearby, continually adding food to his bowl while muttering for him to eat more.

Charlie ate with his mouth full of oil, yet didn't forget to put down his fork and ask him, "Have you really started learning Alchemy? Can dragon scales actually be used for Alchemy? I always feel like the scales I picked up last time could make something cool."

Amster briefly explained a few things, saying that the alchemical properties of dragon scales depend on the dragon breed, and Hungarian Horntail scales are best suited for Fire Protection Curses.

Charlie listened exceptionally intently, his eyes wide round, nodding vigorously from time to time, and even pulling out a small notebook to jot down a few notes in crooked handwriting.

Bill ate slowly on the side, occasionally bringing up runes and mechanisms in Egyptian tombs.

Fred and George listened with bright eyes, endlessly asking if there were any novel magical gadgets, only to be seriously reprimanded by Percy, making the two secretly stick out their tongues and whisper together.

The living room was noisy and bustling with the warmth of human life, shutting the wind and snow outside far away, so cozy one didn't want to leave.

After dinner, Charlie approached holding a wooden box.

Simple dragon patterns were carved onto the box, its corners polished very smooth.

He opened it cautiously to reveal a Hungarian Horntail scale, black and hard with a pale blue sheen, its patterns distinct—a shed scale he had picked up at the dragon reserve, very rare and said to block ordinary flames or even withstand a few low-level spells.

"This can block ordinary flames; I'm giving it to you, maybe you can research something out of it."

Charlie pushed the wooden box in front of him with a very sincere tone.

Amster took it, his fingertips touching the slightly cool texture; the scale felt very special—hard yet not icy.

He nodded and said, "It's very precious, thank you."

Bill and Arthur chatted by the fireplace about Egyptian archaeological finds, Arthur listening with great interest and occasionally chiming in with a question.

Fred and George squatted on the ground researching a newly brewed prank potion contained in a small glass vial with strange-colored liquid, occasionally letting out wicked chuckles and secretly inching toward Ron, scaring him into shrinking backward.

Ginny hugged a fairy tale book, her fingers tracing back and forth along the spine, hesitating for a long time before softly asking about Hogwarts—how big the squid in the Black Lake was, what kind of pranks Peeves loved to pull, and what the Quidditch pitch looked like.

After asking, she lowered her head, blushing, but upon hearing Amster's reply, she quietly looked up again with a small curve at the corner of her mouth.

Ron was still huddled in the corner, watching everyone chat and laugh, yearning written all over his eyes.

Amster took it all in, saying nothing, just quietly staying amidst the lively atmosphere, taking a sip of hot cocoa as the sweet, rich taste melted on the tip of his tongue.

The night grew deeper, the fireplace fire dying down to just a few sparks that occasionally crackled.

Molly glanced at the clock on the wall; it was almost eleven.

She clapped her hands to urge everyone upstairs to sleep, her voice slightly tired yet still gentle.

"Off to bed with you, we still need to prepare gifts tomorrow. Charlie, you promised to take Amster to see the dragon egg specimens, no sleeping in. Bill, stop staying up late reading materials either; deal with things tomorrow."

Charlie helped Amster pack away the scale, smiling and promising to take him to see the collected dragon egg specimens first thing in the morning.

Bill handed Amster a small silver coin engraved with a protective charm, bearing simple defensive runes.

"Stay safe at school, and if you run into trouble, crush it, and it will automatically trigger a protective charm."

Amster accepted it, the warmth of the coin slowly transmitting through his skin.

Molly repeatedly urged him to pull up his blanket and not kick it off; Arthur waved goodbye, saying next time he would definitely show him his newly acquired Mugglegadgets; Fred and George winked at him secretly and shoved two fruit drops into his hand; Ginny, before running up the stairs, looked back once, her gaze lingering on the coin in his hand before she quickly lowered her head and vanished around the corner.

[I love writing slice-of-life, I can never stop writing]