Wind and Snow Reach the Distant Mountains Again

As dusk fell, the streetlights along the streets came on, their pale yellow glow dispelling some of the chill. The streets of Hampstead on the outskirts of the city were covered with layers of snow.

An old man with a long white beard gazed towards the city center for a long time before turning his gaze away. After a moment's hesitation, he finally asked, "Hmm... I remember the candy store was in that direction, right?"

"It might be closed for the Christmas holidays..." Loren replied somewhat speechlessly, wondering how Dumbledore, with his sweet tooth, hadn't developed any cavities yet. "But there should be other dessert shops nearby, you can check them out."

Dumbledore smiled, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "Then let's say goodbye here. See you at the start of the school year, children."

Goodbye, Headmaster Dumbledore.

Dumbledore turned and walked into the shadows where the light didn't reach, disappearing with a "bang".

Loren led Hermione, whose gaze was still somewhat unfocused, through the Granger house's wooden door. The warmth instantly dispelled the chill from outside, and the bright, off-white light filled the entire room, leaving Loren momentarily dazed.

Wendell's voice suddenly rang out from a chair beside the dining room:

"You're back! Take a rest for a bit. Monica is making potato soup, so dinner will be ready soon. Oh, and Loren, Mr. Bates went out to a banquet and told you not to wait for him."

Wendell held the Daily Mail, his head buried in the newspaper without moving. As he turned the page, he rubbed the head of the large ginger cat in his arms, which made Crookshanks, who was resting with his eyes half-closed, meow softly.

"Okay, got it!" Loren replied loudly.

Crookshanks was nestled in Wendell's arms, woke up upon hearing the sound, shook his head, and burrowed out of Wendell's embrace, meowing as he ran towards Loren on the sofa.

After changing her shoes and taking off her coat, Hermione felt the warmth emanating from the fireplace and slowly snapped out of her reverie, recalling the news she had heard in the Headmaster's office. She tugged at Loren's sweater and whispered, "Do you think Hokey can be saved?"

"..."

Loren fell silent for a moment. He thought Hermione was thinking about Horcrux, but he didn't expect her to be House-elf. But then he realized it was Hermione, and it made perfect sense.

Loren reached out and pressed on the girl's shoulder a few times, feeling the tense muscles in his palm gradually soften, and comforted her, "Don't worry, Dumbledore said he'll do his best."

"Hmm..." Hermione's pale face, which had been frozen, gradually regained its rosy color under the warmth of the heater, and she nodded slowly.

After dinner, Loren chatted with Granger house for a while, and after confirming that Hermione was slowly recovering, he returned home, followed by a small ginger-yellow tail.

As soon as Loren opened the door, Crookshanks couldn't wait to run in and lie down on the carpet, tucking his four paws under his body to warm them, looking like he was freezing from the snow.

Loren couldn't help but laugh, "Remember to clean your paws properly, I'll need your help later."

Crookshanks looked at him blankly. "Meow?"

After taking a bath and washing up, Loren changed into his pajamas and returned to his bedroom. He took out the Fantasy Book and crawled into bed...

Inside the Library of the Fantasy Book, Flamel, who was reading, slowly raised his head and watched as the consciousness projected by Loren gradually took shape.

Ancient history, Merlin, Fairy Morgan and the Immortal, the four founders, the Prophecy of Slytherin...

After a few seconds of thought, Loren looked at the languid Flamel, paused for a moment, and then asked, "Flamel, have Nicol seen Slytherin?"

"What?" Flamel looked astonished. "How is that possible? They are separated by centuries. When Nicol was born, Slytherin had already been dead for hundreds of years... How could you ask such a question?"

"Oh, I see..." Loren was a little disappointed. He found a seat next to Flamel, looked at the white Library dome, and began to recount his experiences of the day. "..."

After listening to his account, Flamel's eyes gleamed even brighter, and he calmly glanced at Loren before closing his book. "You believe Slytherin left a backup plan, and Nicol might have some connection to it?"

Loren nodded.

"Your recounting of ancient history has answered many of my questions. In fact, there are some things I haven't told you, but unfortunately..." Flamel said, shaking his head.

"Nicol didn't play any role in ancient history. He just happened to obtain the Book of Abraham and, with the help of Hebrew scholar, he forged the incomplete Sorcerer's Stone. During his long life, he traveled the world and came into contact with some hidden people and events. He happened to learn some information and glimpsed some things from the distant past."

"So is there anything you can tell me now?" Loren asked.

Flamel smiled and said, "Don't worry, we have plenty of time. When the right time comes, you'll know everything."

"The riddle-maker again..." Loren rolled his eyes. "Can I talk about the Fairy Morgan? Why did Ms. Daisy Mrs. Dursley say I don't need to practice Animagus?"

"The legendary Fairy Morgan possessed the ability to freely Transfiguration various animals. Perhaps this talent can be inherited through bloodlines, just like Parselmouth ..." Flamel leaned closer to examine Loren. "There must have been some clues in your life, just like how Parselmouth unconsciously talks to snakes. Think back carefully..."

"A clue..."

Loren carefully recalled his memories of this matter. He did indeed possess some strange talents, which he had sensed from the moment he first came into contact with magic: a rapid learning speed of magic, an instinctive intuition for spells...

It also has a strange affinity with some plants and animals!

Loren's memories suddenly stopped. He had had this feeling before, at sea, in aquariums... and even used this talent to tease Lockhart in the Hogwarts Greenhouse.

He immediately recounted these experiences to Flamel, asking with a puzzled look, "... But what does this have to do with Transfiguration?"

"This innate instinct requires you to explore it yourself..." Flamel pondered before answering, "It shouldn't be more difficult than learning Animagus, but it needs a trigger, like a python appearing before Parselmouth ..."

"An opportunity..."

As Loren exited the Fantasy Book, he happened to hear a soft scratching sound coming from outside the bedroom door; Crookshanks ' little paws had already warmed up.

Loren waved his wand and opened the door. A fluffy, ginger-yellow creature darted in quietly. Crookshanks was clever; despite being very clingy to Loren, it didn't get on the bed. Instead, it curled up on the edge of the bed, its bushy tail swaying as if it were about to fall asleep there.

Loren reached out and scooped it up, holding it up to his eyes for a closer look. "Although you have Niffler blood, you shouldn't be considered a magical animal, right?"

"Meow..." Crookshanks let out a weak meow.

Loren barely thought about it; he instinctively realized that they were urging him to go to sleep. Loren paused for a moment, then realized something was wrong.

Whether it was the little Spectacled Owl, Hānhan, or the cat Crookshanks, he seemed to be able to understand what they were trying to say with little effort. He used to think this was a peculiar thing about animals in the Wizarding World, but now it seemed there was more to it than met the eye.

Loren held up the cat and shook it for a while, then said with a serious expression, "Crookshanks, you are now officially appointed as the Cat Professor. Now teach me how to transform."

"Meow..." Crookshanks's voice sounded somewhat depressed.

"Change quickly!"

"Meow..."

"Oh right, I should be the one to transform... but I can't..."

Loren didn't fall asleep until late at night. He vaguely heard Grandpa Bates coming back from outside, but before he could think about it, he turned over and went back to sleep.

In his deep sleep, Loren had a strange dream.

He dreamt of a Obscuring Mist island inhabited by several Witch, one of Witch always remained hidden in the fog. Loren instinctively reached out to get a closer look. But as he drew near, the Witch vanished, leaving him only with the sight of a rabbit leaping away and a crow taking flight...

After several fruitless searches, Loren became somewhat frustrated.

Just then, Crookshanks appeared, leaping nimbly in pursuit of the departing animals, leaving Loren standing there, tilting his head in confusion.

The biting winter wind howled incessantly, and the night grew darker, but in the Headmaster's office at Hogwarts Castle, the bright candlelight still shone.

"... Bellatrix Lestrange used magic to send me a message, saying that the Dark Lord had sent his greetings... For the sake of future plans, and since the Golden Cup was already in our hands, I decided to let her go under those circumstances."

Snape recounted the story calmly, though before him lay a large bag of various sweets on the headmaster's desk, and despite his best efforts to maintain a stern expression, he could not appear serious at all.

Dumbledore reverently tore off the wrapper from the toffee, only to realize it was made of rice paper. A flicker of regret crossed his eyes. He glanced at Snape, probably thinking it impolite to lick his fingers in front of the Head of House, so he set the wrapper aside and put the toffee in his mouth.

"Hmm, Severus, I also think letting her go was the right choice... Mmm, delicious!" Dumbledore offered her a toffee. "Want to try some?"

Snape stared at him coldly. Dumbledore somewhat disappointed. He should have given Severus candy at Christmas; he had already set off firecrackers then, so he certainly wouldn't have refused.

Perhaps because his expression was completely undisguised, Snape couldn't help but raise his voice slightly. "Headmaster, Headmaster Dumbledore! We're talking about serious matters concerning the Dark Lord, and those troublesome Horcrux!"

"Oh, Voldemort ... Horcrux ... I know." Dumbledore's voice was muffled, his mouth full of candy, as if he were talking about something insignificant. "Trust me, Severus, just as I trust you."

Snape was at a loss and sighed helplessly, "What do you plan to do with the Golden Cup? Are you going to destroy it immediately?"

Dumbledore crunched the candy in his mouth a few times, swallowed it, and then his voice became serious. "In fact, although I had some suspicions beforehand, I was still a little surprised... The most important thing is how many Horcrux he has, and whether he is planning to create new Horcrux. Severus, we can only defeat him completely if we find out these things."

Snape did not reply and fell into a deep silence.

How can we figure out this information?

Both of them already knew the answer in their hearts.

A cold wind swept the snowflakes further afield. On the Mount Greylock United States Massachusetts, the eastern sky was already faintly turning white, with warm, surging golden rays seeping into the clouds.

In the woods near the cliff outside the Ilvermorny School, a bald, short man was clearing snow from a leafy tree. The remaining hair on the sides of his head was gray, and his skin was even paler, like a dead person who had been soaking in water for a long time, without a trace of blood.

He held a beechwood branch in his right hand, gently sweeping snowballs off an unknown tree. If someone looked closely, they would notice that his right index finger was different from the other fingers; it was a silver finger that shimmered with a metallic sheen.

A sound like a python exhaling came from the middle-aged man's throat, followed by a cold and terrifying hoarse voice. "What a perfect vessel. His soul has been extinguished, but his body still retains some life... He's practically a vessel tailor-made for me, Bellatrix, don't you think?"

A devout female voice rang out, Bellatrix Lestrange, dressed in disheveled clothes, knelt in the snow, shivering from the cold, yet refusing to rise. In a trembling voice, she said, "Yes, it is the rat's honor to be chosen by the great Dark Arts."

"No, don't call him a rat, he is my loyal servant..." The cold voice chuckled softly, "Whether he was alive or dead—no, he is not dead... In any case, he has offered his loyalty to me."

"Yes, yes, the great Dark Lord ..." Bellatrix's voice trembled even more violently.

"A soulless, broken body, though still unable to contain my power and gradually crumbling, still has this Snake Tree ..." Voldemort stared at the unknown tree before him with fascination, as if it were a priceless treasure. "The Snake Tree, formed from the wand of the great Salazar Slytherin, possesses powerful healing properties..."

He took a deep sniff of the leaves, his body trembling uncontrollably, a hint of madness creeping into his expression. "This must be a treasure left to me by my ancestors..."

"Don't be nervous, don't be afraid..." Voldemort, who had taken over the body of the Wormtail, gradually regained his senses. He spoke as if to the woman, or as if to soothe the Snake Tree, as he slowly swept away the snowballs.

"Wormtail Hogwarts on my orders. He didn't have the courage to leave the Castle rashly... Although his body still retained Dementor Magic Power, it was very strange..."

Voldemort took another deep breath of the leaves, trembling with excitement. "Who prepared this gift for me...? Was it you, my dear Morgan...?"