Scottish Highlands.
Hogwarts.
Second floor.
In Minerva McGonagall's study-bedroom.
Snape stepped out of the fireplace.
"Is the child all right?" McGonagall hurriedly asked.
Dumbledore read more from Snape's microexpressions.
"Oh, what happened? For you to be this shocked. Not even your hair becoming dry and fresh overnight would do this."
Hearing Dumbledore's teasing, McGonagall set aside her worries.
She looked at Snape, but the young man wore a cold expression, his greasy curtain of hair seeming to bury every emotion.
She could not see any shock at all.
It had to be said that Dumbledore understood men far better than she did.
Snape flicked his cloak. "Just as you guessed. This may indeed be connected to the change of president at the Extraordinary Apothecary Association."
"That filthy werewolf had not dared attack a single wizarding child since the Dark Lord died."
"But today, he did exactly that."
"And he attacked a descendant of a prominent family."
"Considering that Finn Granger is the leading candidate for the next term—"
"Hmph, this is clearly intimidation from a hostile force."
"Kill one of your distant relatives."
"Make you give up the election."
"Without completely offending you."
"That sort of style?" Dumbledore began to ponder.
In Britain's conservative wizarding world, there were only a handful of powerful surnames.
And all of them had graduated from Hogwarts, meaning they had once been his students.
One familiar face after another flashed through his mind, and the answer was on the tip of his tongue. "Lucius Malfoy!"
Professor McGonagall drew in a sharp breath.
Snape raised an objection.
"Does he have that kind of nerve? He and his little clique only dare cover their faces and torment Muggles. In Muggle terms, they're nothing more than street thugs who bully the weak and fear the strong!"
"He is a Malfoy," Dumbledore said meaningfully.
Snape pondered for a moment before suddenly understanding.
The Malfoy family were not mere opportunists.
Though they had never run for Minister for Magic themselves, they often funded candidates they favored and even paid to strike at their opponents.
Lucius Malfoy's grandfather, Septimus Malfoy, had even used such methods to turn the Minister for Magic of that time into his puppet.
His father, Abraxas Malfoy, had gone even further, using underhanded means to force the first Muggle-born Minister for Magic, Nobby Leach, out of office prematurely.
And this election for president of the Extraordinary Apothecary Association was merely another glimpse of the Malfoys' attempt to expand their influence.
To Lucius Malfoy, a young wizard with no parents or living immediate family, possessing only a prominent surname, was naturally beneath his notice.
Besides, the one who had acted was Fenrir Greyback. What did that have to do with the Malfoys?
Lucius Malfoy had probably already destroyed all the evidence.
Dumbledore continued, "How is the child? He wasn't—"
Snape snapped out of his thoughts and raised an eyebrow. "You would never believe it. The only thing he was thinking about was scamming the school out of a subsidy."
Professor McGonagall unhappily raised her brows. "But that is within the rules. He is an orphan! When you went to Devonshire, we investigated."
In an old portrait near the window, an elderly witch with long silver curls that did not suit the portrait at all coughed. "I just went to St Mungo's to investigate. Lewinster Granger died on June 29, 1991, at the age of 127. Evra Granger and Everilda Granger died on September 2, 1980, at the ages of thirty and twenty-eight, respectively. If the child has no other immediate relatives, then he truly is an orphan."
Dumbledore added, "Dilys is correct. Although I am still young—109 years old—and do not know much about Madam Lewinster Granger, I still remember her son and son-in-law because they were both Hogwarts students. If my memory has not failed me, Mr. Basil Granger is indeed an orphan."
"Wait," Snape's mouth twitched, "I never questioned whether he was an orphan. But judging by his clothes, the golden objects in his hands, the air of a newly rich man about him, and that terrifying big tree that directly strangled Fenrir to death, he is not short of money."
The atmosphere in the room abruptly became tense.
They had all forgotten that Basil wanted to apply for a subsidy.
No one noticed, either, that by the numbers, Basil's grandmother had given birth to his father when she was already in her eighties.
"Fenrir is dead?" Dumbledore frowned.
The reason he had sent Snape there—
Was because Snape had once been a Death Eater.
He could use the Dark Mark on his arm to track down that notorious werewolf.
Though Fenrir was not a Death Eater, he also had a Dark Mark.
That way, they could also inflict tremendous economic and political losses upon the mastermind behind it.
Fudge, who was skilled at amassing wealth, would not stop until he had stripped a layer of skin off them.
"It seems I need to contact Professor Marchbanks."
Snape drew in a sharp breath at those words.
Or rather, it was the first time since returning that his face showed an expression vivid enough to involve more than two muscles.
"You're planning to use your influence? That will scare Fudge! It will end your honeymoon period early!"
Dumbledore rose to his feet and forcefully waved an arm.
Behind his half-moon spectacles, his blue eyes gleamed coldly. "He wouldn't dare! As long as Tom does not return, he will come running around me of his own accord. Besides, they used filthy methods on a child. That is a line that cannot be crossed!"
Thousands of miles away in Devonshire, in the small room within the hill cave tunnel, Basil—the bottom line in question—was sleeping soundly.
He had no idea that the air of a demolition-compensation nouveau riche brought about by his transmigration had completely sent his subsidy down the drain.
Dumbledore had also made Fudge wary ahead of time.
In the original timeline, this ostrich that buried its head in the sand had only poked half its head out during the summer vacation of Harry's fourth year.
August 1.
In the recreation room.
Exploding Snap cards, Gobstones, and other entertainment items had been piled in the corner.
Now, they had been replaced by books.
Over the past five days, he had more or less returned to the grueling routine he had followed as a third-year senior at No. 4 High School in Youzhou—getting up at seven in the morning to study and finishing at eight or nine at night.
As for the two dances every day—the adult dance and the couples' dance—
Basil could only give them up due to the circumstances.
Of course, it was not because Basil liked reading.
Otherwise, why would he have dropped out during his freshman year of university?
It was because, after combining his past memories, he discovered—
That his past self, his self as a young wizard—
Was no different from when he had been Li Lin in terms of his perception of his body.
Even when his magic awakened at seven and made the Enoki Mushroom in his hand bigger, tenderer, fresher, and tastier, he had not felt anything substantial.
He had merely thought there were too few mushrooms and they were not enough to eat, and magic had happened in his hand.
He had only thought about it!
It was as though there was no such thing as magic power within his body.
Only when he cast spells through the Grimoire five days ago and in the subsequent tests did he sense the so-called magic power.
And the Magic Power value in his personal information had not changed at all.
He only felt physically exhausted.
But it was more like throwing a punch; magic power was the fist.
Throwing a punch did consume strength, but the fist itself did not change.
He could not use magic power to recharge gems, either.
His magic power did not diminish in the slightest.
It was like an immovable stubborn rock.
It did not match the information that had flooded into his mind when the system activated at all.
Until today, when he finally found the answer in Magical Theory, written by Adalbert Wulfing.
This was truly absurd.
It was a first-year Hogwarts textbook.
Could you imagine it?
It was like searching for the principles behind a nuclear bomb, only to find the answer in a first-year middle school physics textbook.
Fenrir Greyback was a Death Eater. This evil werewolf became active again after Voldemort's return, but Voldemort, who held strict pure-blood beliefs, seemed to scorn werewolves caught between human and beast. Only when he wished to use werewolves might this werewolf be permitted to wear a Death Eater's robes. Every Death Eater had a Dark Mark branded upon his arm by Voldemort, yet Greyback was not even truly a Death Eater. The above is from the Harry Potter Encyclopedia. Combined with the chapter in the seventh book where Harry was captured, Fenrir should not have had a Dark Mark. I got that wrong here; when writing it, I only looked up the novels.
Before you continue