Days of heavy snow had buried all the uncleanness on the streets of the old city of London, but the overcast and unclear canopy seemed to indicate that an even more intense snowstorm was brewing, and many Muggle cleaners were trying their best to deal with the snow on the old streets and clear a road that could be passed.

Dressed in a dark green overcoat, Amosta Blaine stood in the bare courtyard, gazing deeply at the unfinished building in front of him, and his lilac eyes seemed to contain extraordinary magic.

Unlike the surrounding historical vicissitudes and ancient buildings, it is a boxy and unstyled six-story building, like a student dormitory, with more than a dozen rooms on each floor, and it is expected that when it is completed, it will definitely accommodate many people.

"Amosta!"

The call from the street outside the iron gate brought Amosta back to his senses, and he turned to look at the middle-aged woman with a hurried expression, and the smile on his young face was gentle but kind.

"Good morning, Mrs. Reagan."

"Oh, you should have said hello in advance, Amosta."

After a hasty hug, Mrs. Reagan said in a reproachful tone.

"Hey, I'm sorry, I didn't plan to be in such a hurry, but something happened that could cause me to be out of the way for the next few months, so I'll check back for a while."

Amosta pursed her lips, her tone relaxed and casual.

"yes, yes, you're always in such a hurry."

Mrs. Reagan proudly looked at the handsome Amosta, the most promising child who had come out of the orphanage in recent years, and her face was full of relief.

"You don't have to worry, Amosta, Mr. Parker of the construction team said that they will continue to work after the Christmas break, and in two months, the children will be in their new home!"

"yes, I think that's exactly what they were looking forward to."

Amosta smiled, and then he opened the suitcase he had brought with him, and took out two wades of pounds from it, and stuffed them into Mrs. Reagan's hand.

Gringotts does have a Muggle currency exchange business, but there are strict restrictions on both the exchange rate and the amount of exchange, so Amosta prefers to turn the gold coins in his hand into gold bricks, and then find a random gold shop in London to exchange them for pounds, which will also cause some unnecessary losses, but the losses incurred are acceptable compared to doing business with greedy goblins.

"This is the final payment for the project, please pass it on to Mr. Parker for me."

Mrs. Reagan's lips pursed, words of thanks had already been said so much that there was no need to be polite, and she carefully hid the money in her oil-soaked apron, her tone tinged with gratitude and anticipation

"Are you going to see the children, Amosta, they would love to see you, especially little Hammer, who has been yelling for days about your failure to keep your promise to spend Christmas with them."

"I'm sorry for me, Mrs. Reagan, and I'll bring him a gift for the summer."

"Okay."

Mrs. Reagan's tone was visibly disappointed, but she did not persuade much, she knew that if Amosta had time, she would not refuse to go and see the children, and it seemed that he had something to deal with in a hurry.

The greetings did not take much time, and Mrs. Reagan had to rush back to take care of the children who were waiting to be fed, and Amosta walked out of the depressed compound after Mrs. Reagan had left.

He walked at a steady pace along the cleared street to the east, and the old buildings lining the road that drewed with his countless childhood memories did not slow him down

As he passed a ten-foot-wide river, he stood on a dilapidated arch bridge and stared at the frozen surface of the river, and then walked to a wasteland planted with sparse birch trees.

Nestled in the middle of the wasteland is a cemetery surrounded by a crooked hedge.

"The whirlwind sweeps away."

Amosta's hand in his pocket did not take it out, but his lips moved, and a few small tornadoes rose out of thin air in the desolate graveyard, and then dissipated silently after brushing away the rows of tombstones and the snow on the black-and-gray cobblestone island.

"I'm sorry, Grandma Felena, I forgot to bring flowers."

Amosta paced to a white tombstone, bent down to brush away the unwashed ice water from the marble monument inscribed on the epitaph, and then stood up straight and quietly looked at the smiling old man in the black-and-white photo on the monument, and muttered something in a whisper.

Buried under the tombstone is the old man who took care of him in the welfare home when he was a child, and the only relative he has recognized since he was born in this world as a baby.

As if sensing his sadness, the owl coming in the biting cold wind did not rush to complete the task, but stopped on the nearest birch tree, tilted its head to look at Amosta below, and from time to time combed its wings that were tossed by the wind with its sharp beak.

"In the next few months, I'm going back to the school that taught 'juggling,' and it's in a bit of trouble right now, and there's people hoping that I'll be able to find something while it's messing around, and to be honest, it's not what I want—

Albus Dumbledore, the old white-bearded man who always likes to pretend to meet me in the library in the middle of the night and remind me that staying up late and hurting my body doesn't like what I'm doing, and I don't like to wander under his nose... But there is no way, they give too much, and it will cost me more than half a year's hard work.

Moreover, after the new dormitory is built, I hope to help the children solve the problem of education."

The cold wind took away Amosta's melancholy sigh, but it couldn't sweep away the chagrin on that handsome face,

"It's a pity, if I can recall the plot, I can probably finish things as quickly as possible and walk with money."

A fluttering sentence exposes the deepest secrets hidden in the hearts of the young man standing in the desolate cemetery.

Yes, Amosta Bryan is not a 'native' native, his soul comes from a blue planet without any supernatural powers.

The story of Harry Potter was a favorite reading of his boyhood in his previous life, but more than twenty years had passed since he received the Hogwarts admission letter, and all his memories had blurred, and even ten years ago, when he received the owl letter in the cold room of the welfare home, he thought it was some new popular prank.

It wasn't until a gutter-nosed man with greasy hair came to him and turned his bed into a toilet with a small stick that he suddenly came to his senses that what he had started in his life was not an urban superpower script.

After that, he desperately recalled the Harry Potter script, but all he could get was some specious words, such as Horcruxes, holy weapons, love and scars, Voldemort and resurrection, etc., and what he got was far less than the information he had personally investigated since he entered the wizarding world.

Of course, Amosta, who has mastered magic, has also tried to use unconventional means to retrace memories.

But the information was so stubbornly forgotten, no matter how hard Amosta tried, they were all hidden in a flowing gray mist, as if someone had protected them with unimaginable magic, and in the end, he tried many ways to get himself out of trouble and had to give up. 

"The boy named Potter is in the second grade, and he is still a few years away from graduation, so I don't think I need to face the most dangerous situation.

After all, Dumbledore was there—ah, no, the danger came from Dumbledore..."

Call...

Looking at the white gas blown away by the wind, Amosta's face condensed with a wry smile,

"Survival is an extremely hard thing to live in any world, isn't it, Grandma Felena?"

Fine snowflakes fell in the sky again, and the owls in the treetops made more and more frequent low-chirps, and Amosta reached out his hand into the air, and the small note under the eagle's talon slashed through the gray snow curtain against the dark sky, and stayed firmly in Amosta's palm.

Respectfully Mr. Blaine

I've finished talking to the Hogwarts Board of Trustees, and now that the Board has approved our plan, you'll need to arrive at Hogwarts by eight o'clock tonight and present to Dumbledore in person how you plan to investigate the perpetrators of the attack.

In addition, Lucius Malfoy firmly rejected the proposal to send an inquisitor, arguing that Albus Dumbledore should be removed outright, with the Greengrasses being the only seconders.

You faithfully, Kakus Foley

The scribbled handwriting shows the urgency of the writer, and the gray owl, who has completed the task without receiving a reward, lets out a cry of dissatisfaction and rises to the top, and soon disappears into the chaos of snowflakes.

Amosta closed his palm, and Kakus's note turned into a seed and a bunch of white and flawless carnations grew in his palm.

"Do you like this trick, Grandma Felena?"

The old man on the monument smiled with satisfaction.

Amosta laughed too, and he turned and walked into the snowstorm, and after the roar, there was no one left in the desolate graveyard, only a low oath wandering through the sparse woods,

"Train of Destiny, is it ready to go in an unknown direction?"

ps: Ask for a point collection, recommendation, investment, thank you (the second chapter is before five o'clock)