Before the Grave

For days, heavy snow had buried all the filth on the streets of the ancient city of London. Yet the gloomy sky showed no sign of clearing, as though an even fiercer blizzard was brewing. On the old streets, many Muggle sanitation workers were doing everything they could to deal with the snow, struggling to clear a passable path.

Amosta Breen, dressed in a worn dark green overcoat, stood in the bare courtyard and gazed deeply at the unfinished building before him. His pale violet eyes seemed to contain an unusual kind of magic.

Unlike the surrounding buildings steeped in history and old-fashioned charm, it was a plain, boxy six-story structure with no style to speak of, like a student dormitory. Each floor had more than a dozen rooms, and once it was completed, it would surely house quite a few people.

"Amosta!"

The call from the street beyond the iron gate jolted Amosta back to his senses. He turned around, and when he saw the hurried middle-aged woman, a warm, friendly smile appeared on his young face.

"Good morning, Mrs. Reagan."

"Oh, you should have let me know in advance, Amosta."

After a hurried embrace, Mrs. Reagan spoke in a reproachful tone.

"Ha, sorry. I hadn't planned to come back in such a hurry, but something came up. It may keep me from finding any spare time over the next few months, so I came back to check on the progress."

Amosta pursed his lips, his tone casual and relaxed.

"Yes, yes, you're always in such a rush."

Mrs. Reagan proudly looked over the handsome Amosta, the most accomplished child to have come out of the orphanage in recent years. Her face was full of comfort and satisfaction.

"You needn't worry, Amosta. Mr. Parker from the construction crew said they'd resume work as soon as the Christmas holiday was over. In just two months, the children will be able to move into their new home!"

"Yes, I think that's exactly what they're looking forward to."

Amosta smiled, then opened the suitcase he carried with him, took out two stacks of pounds, and pressed them into Mrs. Reagan's hands.

Gringotts did offer Muggle currency exchange services, but both the exchange rate and the amount were tightly restricted. Amosta preferred to turn his gold coins into gold bars, then find some less-than-reputable gold shop in London to exchange them for pounds. That also caused some unnecessary losses, but compared with doing business with greedy Goblins, the cost was acceptable.

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

Mrs. Reagan's lips trembled. She had thanked him too many times already, so there was no need for more pleasantries. Carefully tucking the money into her grease-stained apron, she spoke with gratitude and anticipation.

"Would you like to see the children, Amosta? They really want to see you, especially Hammer Jr. He's been complaining for days that you didn't keep your promise to spend Christmas with them."

"Please apologize to him for me, Mrs. Reagan. I'll bring him a gift when I come back in the summer."

"All right."

Mrs. Reagan's disappointment was obvious, but she did not urge him further. She knew that if Amosta had the time, he would never refuse to visit the children. It seemed he truly had something urgent to deal with.

Their small talk did not take long. Mrs. Reagan still had to hurry back to care for the hungry children, while Amosta remained only a little longer after she left before walking out of the desolate courtyard.

He walked steadily east along the newly cleared street. The old buildings on either side, soaked through with countless memories of his childhood, did not slow his steps.

Only when he passed a ten-foot-wide river did he stop on a dilapidated arched bridge, staring blankly at the frozen surface for a while before heading toward a patch of wasteland dotted with sparse birch trees.

In the middle of that wasteland stood a graveyard enclosed by crooked, leaning fences.

"Whirlwind Sweep."

Amosta did not take his hand out of his pocket. His lips merely moved, and several tiny tornadoes rose from nowhere within the bleak graveyard. After sweeping the snow from rows of tombstones and small islands of dark gray pebbles, they silently vanished again.

"Sorry, Grandma Felena. I forgot to bring flowers."

Amosta walked over to a pristine white grave, bent down to brush away the remaining icy water from the marble slab engraved with the epitaph, then straightened and quietly looked at the kindly smiling old woman in the black-and-white photograph. He muttered softly.

Buried beneath the tombstone was the old woman who had carefully looked after him in the orphanage during his childhood. Since he had been born into this world as an infant, she was also the only family member he had ever acknowledged.

Perhaps sensing his sorrow, the owl flying into the biting wind did not rush to complete its task. Instead, it landed on the nearest birch tree, tilted its head as it watched Amosta below, and occasionally used its sharp beak to groom the feathers ruffled by the wind.

"For the next few months, I'll be going back to that school that teaches people 'magic tricks.' That school is in a bit of trouble now, and someone wants me to take advantage of the chaos to find something. To be honest, that doesn't really align with what I want—"

"Albus Dumbledore—the white-bearded old man who always liked to pretend he happened to run into me in the library in the middle of the night, then remind me that staying up late was bad for my health—wouldn't like what I'm doing now. And I'm not too keen on wandering around under his nose either... but there's no helping it. They're offering far too much money, enough to equal more than half a year of hard work for me."

"Besides, once the new dormitory is finished, I'm hoping to help the children sort out their education as well—"

The bitter wind carried away Amosta's melancholy sigh, but it could not wipe the annoyance from his handsome face.

"What a pity. If I could remember the plot, I could probably finish this as quickly as possible, take the money, and leave."

That casual remark revealed the deepest secret hidden in the heart of the young man standing in the desolate graveyard.

That was right. Amosta Breen was not exactly a native of this place. His soul had come from a blue planet where no supernatural powers existed.

The story of Harry Potter had been one of his favorite readings in his youth during his previous life. But more than twenty years had passed since he received his Hogwarts acceptance letter in this life, and all his memories had become vague. Even ten years ago, when he received that owl-delivered letter in his cold orphanage room, he had thought it was some new popular prank.

It was not until a hooked-nosed man with greasy hair appeared before him and used a little stick to turn his bed into a toilet that he finally came to his senses. The life he had begun in this world was not some urban superpower story.

After that, he desperately tried to recall the Harry Potter plot, but all he got were vague, uncertain terms: Horcruxes, Deathly Hallows, love and scars, Voldemort and resurrection, and the like. It was far less than the information he had personally investigated since entering the wizarding world.

Of course, after becoming skilled in magic, Amosta had also tried unconventional means to recover those memories.

But that information had been forgotten too stubbornly. No matter how hard Amosta tried, it remained hidden within a shifting gray mist, as though someone had protected it with unimaginable magic. In the end, after trying countless methods and nearly driving himself mad, he had no choice but to give up.

"That boy named Potter is in his second year now. He still has several years before graduation, so I probably won't have to face the most dangerous situation.

"After all, Dumbledore is there—ah, no, the danger comes from Dumbledore..."

Hoo...

Watching his breath disperse in the wind, the bitter smile on Amosta's face froze.

"No matter which world it is, surviving is an incredibly difficult thing, isn't it, Grandma Felena?"

Fine snowflakes began to drift down from the sky once more. The owl in the treetop let out increasingly impatient, low hoots. Amosta reached a hand into the air, and the small note beneath the owl's claws shot through the gray curtain of snow beneath the dark sky with a whoosh, landing steadily in Amosta's palm.

Dear Mr. Breen,

I have completed negotiations with the Hogwarts Board of Governors. The Board has now approved our proposal. You must arrive at Hogwarts before eight o'clock tonight and explain to Dumbledore in person how you intend to investigate the culprit behind the attacks.

Additionally, Lucius Malfoy firmly vetoed the proposal to dispatch an Investigator. He believes Albus Dumbledore should be dismissed directly. The Greengrass Family was the only one to second the motion.

Yours faithfully, Cacus Fley

The hasty handwriting clearly showed the writer's urgency. Having completed its task without receiving a reward, the gray owl gave an unhappy cry, spread its wings, and quickly vanished into the swirling snow.

Amosta closed his hand, and Cacus's note turned into a seed that grew into a flawless white carnation in his palm.

"Do you like this trick, Grandma Felena?"

The old woman on the tombstone smiled in quiet satisfaction.

Amosta smiled as well. He turned and walked into the wind and snow. After a sharp crack, no one remained in the desolate graveyard. Only a low vow drifted through the sparse woods.

"Is the train of fate ready to head into the unknown?"

P.S. Please add this to your favorites, vote, and invest. Thank you. (Chapter Two will be posted before five o'clock.)