Provocation

At the edge of the Forbidden Forest, Amosta paused and glanced several times toward Hagrid's hut. The crude little cabin was dark, and he could sense no trace of magic from within. It seemed Hagrid was not home.

Everyone knew that Hogwarts' Keeper of Keys and Grounds was one of Albus Dumbledore's most trusted confidants. Dumbledore often entrusted extremely important and private matters to this seemingly rough but dependable giant.

Amosta was unsure whether Hagrid had gone out on business or was patrolling the Forbidden Forest. To ensure he would not be disturbed, he walked a considerable distance farther south before striding into the woods.

The dense Forbidden Forest was pitch-black and silent. Aside from the crunch of dead leaves beneath his feet, even the bone-cutting winter wind seemed cowed into silence by the oppressive atmosphere.

Amosta continued deeper into the forest. He left the winding trail behind, skirted a clearing that had been logged and was now filled only with moss-covered stumps, and stopped only when he could no longer see even a glimmer of light from the castle. He stepped onto a huge, flat bluestone.

"This is the place, Grandma Felena."

Amosta spoke to the elderly woman whose kind smile had been forever frozen in the photograph. He then set the photograph on the ground and propped it up with a broken branch.

"According to the customs of the world where I once lived, at midnight on the seventh day after a person dies, their soul has a chance to return to this world and visit the family they left behind."

Amosta shook his sleeve, and a well-maintained twelve-inch ebony wand with a Dragon heartstring core slid into his palm.

He pointed his wand at the ground. A fist-sized stone by his feet immediately floated up, spinning amid a blur of rapid vibrations before transforming into an orange-yellow copper basin.

"At such a time, the living family members use a certain method to honor their departed relatives—"

Amosta sat cross-legged without the slightest concern for the wet, icy bluestone beneath him.

He pulled a cloth bag from his robes. Amosta had bought this bag, expanded with an Undetectable Extension Charm, from Devis Vance Magic Supplies Shop in Hogsmeade for two Gold Galleons. Since it had been cheap, its original capacity had been quite limited.

However, after a second round of modifications, it could now hold an entire car and could also sort and store items in separate batches.

"I don't know whether you'll like this way of doing things."

A large stack of Yellow paper and a small mountain of Gold ingots tumbled out and scattered across the ground.

Whoosh!

Golden flames sprang up from nowhere, swiftly devouring the Yellow paper and hand-folded Gold ingots in the copper basin. The scorching heat soon blackened the basin's yellow edges and dried the moisture from the cold, damp air.

The firelight reflected off the glass covering the photograph, revealing a somewhat pale face.

"I'm sorry I couldn't stay by your side during your final days. This will probably be the greatest regret of my life."

Amosta moved his cracked lips as he fed more paper into the basin and spoke to the smiling old woman amid the flames.

The flames flickered, and the golden light swayed with them, making the old woman in the photograph seem as though she had come alive like a Magical portrait, gently comforting the grief-stricken boy.

"If it hadn't been for you, I probably would have died at that woman's hands sixteen years ago. I would never have had the chance to know this wonderful world."

The piercing north wind softened after entering the area bathed in firelight. It gently lifted Amosta's hair, like an invisible hand stroking the top of his head.

Amosta stared at the photograph and softly recounted the secrets buried deep in his heart. Those absurd things could not be spoken of even to the closest of people; only before a deceased loved one could Amosta speak without restraint.

The graceful moon gradually slanted toward the horizon. In the latter half of the night, mist swept in from the depths of the Forbidden Forest, shrouding everything in hazy obscurity. Tiny shards of ice clung to the dense leaves, which hung listlessly from the branches.

"What do you think he's doing, Prian?"

Lost in his thoughts, Amosta had lost his usual vigilance. He had not noticed that fifty feet behind him, two people carrying broomsticks and wearing Gryffindor red Quidditch uniforms had been secretly observing him for some time.

"I can't say for sure either, Philoya, but it looks like he's carrying out some kind of evil ritual... using Dark Magic to summon the spirit of that old woman in the photograph, probably. You know how those stinking Slytherin snakes love studying that sort of thing."

Prian, Gryffindor's fourth-year Beater with a round face and tiny eyes, lowered his voice as he spoke to the girl beside him, who was both his teammate and girlfriend.

"He's Amosta Breen, a really strange bookworm."

"A strange bookworm?"

Philoya, a pretty girl with long pale-gold hair, raised her slender brows.

"That's right." Prian puffed out his cheeks and snickered. "I heard it from Halsen in Ravenclaw. Every Saturday morning when he goes to the library, he sees Breen sitting in the corner of the reading area with a huge pile of books in front of him. He never talks to anyone, like he's obsessed with studying, but his grades are much worse than Charlie's brother's. Probably because he's not very bright."

Philoya giggled and leaned against Prian's chest, using her Nimbus 1700 as a support.

"Maybe we should go back to the castle and fetch a professor, darling. We can't just watch him use evil Dark Magic to curse a dead old woman, can we?"

"That's not a good idea, Philoya."

Mischief gleamed in Prian's small eyes as he rejected his girlfriend's suggestion without hesitation. "Charlie and the others are still playing hide-and-seek with that giant spider in the Forbidden Forest. If we bring a professor here, they'll all be exposed."

"Charlie said his brother Bill is on duty as a prefect tonight. We could inform him. I don't think Bill would betray his own brother."

Philoya blinked and made another suggestion.

"That's a good idea, Philoya." Prian looked at Amosta's thin back atop the bluestone and broke into a malicious grin.

"But I have a more interesting way to punish this evil wizard. Come on, Philoya, take out your wand. Let's teach him a lesson!"

There was not much Yellow paper or many Gold ingots left on the ground. He gathered them up with both hands, tossed them all into the crimson copper basin, and softly offered his final farewell.

"I hope the good deeds of this life become blessings in your next, Grandma Felena. The place where I lived in my previous life was also a wonderful country. If you have the chance to choose, you can be born there..."

"Hey! Face judgment, Dark Wizard of Slytherin!"

The sudden shout made Amosta, who had just begun to emerge from his vulnerable state, freeze in surprise. Before he could recover, two spells whistled fiercely through the air behind him.

"Petrificus Totalus!

Shattering Curse!"

In that split second, the abruptly alerted Amosta had no time to consider who was attacking him. Instinctively, he tried to draw his wand and strike back, only to discover in shock that he had inadvertently pinned it beneath his leg. Having sat cross-legged before the fire basin for over an hour, he was dizzy and his legs were badly numb, leaving him no time to react effectively.

Damn it, I was too careless!

Amosta ground his teeth. He braced his left hand against the ground and tipped himself to one side. As he rolled off the bluestone, he snatched up his wand and barely managed to evade the spells.

But Grandma Felena's photograph and the fire basin Amosta had conjured were not nearly so fortunate.

Prian's Petrification Curse missed Amosta but struck the fire basin instead. At once, fire serpents flew into the air, illuminating the dark Forbidden Forest as though dawn had arrived!

Philoya's Shattering Curse, meanwhile, struck Grandma Felena's memorial photograph dead on. After a crisp crack, the shattered photograph was swallowed by golden fire serpents and swiftly turned to black ash...

When Amosta struggled to his feet, a broken photograph with flames eating away at its edges drifted before his eyes before falling helplessly to the ground.

His gaze followed the photograph without wavering. Bewilderment, shock, and fury flashed in turns through his light brown eyes. The instant the photograph turned to ash, Amosta, his face twisted with rage, finally raised his head toward the direction from which the spells had come and slowly but firmly lifted his wand...

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