School Starts Soon

The fluorescent green flames rose and expanded in the fireplace. Bellatrix, wearing a hooded cloak, stepped out of the fireplace. The flames ignited the scattering Floo Powder, expanding into rapidly dissipating waves of fire, a brilliant light flashing and disappearing in an instant.

After stepping out of the fireplace, the disorientation from the Spatial Teleportation had barely subsided when Bellatrix glanced at Snape standing beside her, then immediately turned to the tall chair not far away and bowed respectfully to Voldemort, who was sitting behind the chair examining his wand. "Master, I'm back."

"Bellatrix, I desperately want you to bring me good news, but a faint voice keeps echoing in my ears..." Voldemort didn't look up, his long, pale fingers tracing the wand as he slowly uttered a cold, sharp voice, "It tells me that you have failed, that you haven't brought me what I want..."

"I'm sorry, Master!"

Bellatrix immediately knelt on the ground, head bowed, then pulled a brand-new picture from her bosom and held it high above her head. "As you instructed, I found Wandmaster Grigovich. He admitted to having possessed the Elder Wand for a time, but it was stolen many years ago. He doesn't know the thief's true identity, so I could only copy this picture based on his memory of it..."

"Thief..."

Voldemort repeated it coldly, his Magic Power gaze falling on the picture. Without using his wand or fingers, the thin picture floated up and slowly fell into his pale palm.

The Dark Lord looked down at the picture without saying a word. Snape, standing beside him, remained silent, his eyes lowered as he scanned the brand-new picture, taking in the smiling blond boy crouching by the window and silently etching it into his mind.

The Elder Wand... The Deathly Hallows...

So Voldemort sent Bellatrix to find this thing; no wonder he'd been keeping it from me all this time...

The firewood crackled and popped, and the flames in the fireplace flickered gently, causing the shadows throughout the room to sway as if some monster with outstretched claws and gaping maws were about to pounce out from under the walls and floor to devour someone.

Bellatrix lowered her head even further, her voice filled with uncontrollable fear. "I've interrogated Grigovich using every method I can think of, but he really doesn't seem to know the thief's identity... He hasn't said anything useful."

"Don't panic, dear Bellatrix ... Grigovich is just a weak wandmaker. How could he possibly hold onto such a powerful artifact? It's only natural that it would be taken away once others learned that he possessed the Elder Wand, one of the Deathly Hallows."

Voldemort said softly, "I will not punish you for this. I need you to find this despicable thief and bring back the wand that belongs to me."

As he spoke, Voldemort stretched out his pale hand and waved it upwards. Bellatrix immediately felt a steady force pulling her to her feet—it was the reattached metal arm, which was more obedient to its creator than its current host.

The smooth surface of her silvery-white arm radiated a pure, luminous light, exuding a mysterious and gentle aura that slowly dispelled Bellatrix's long journey and soothed her long-standing anxiety, as if some sacred power was purifying her.

Snape looked on in astonishment, while Bellatrix's eyes were filled with gratitude, seemingly completely unaware that a part of her body concealed mysterious Magic Power, Magic Power was being manipulated by another person.

Voldemort, sitting in the chair, was pleased with her reaction, a hint of approval on his face. "The search for the Elder Wand has not been a failure, just a bit more complicated than we anticipated. I have plenty of patience... Bellatrix, now tell me another piece of information about the wand."

"Another intelligence report?"

Bellatrix glanced at Snape beside her, her expression subtle. "Yes, Master, I interrogated Grigovich about the Twin Wands, and he told me personally that if the two wands use closely connected cores, unexpected things might happen..."

As the woman in front of him slowly revealed the information he knew, Snape's neck stiffened for a moment, and a chill suddenly ran down his spine.

Voldemort was testing himself; even using Horcrux as bait, he didn't fully trust himself...

If the information Bellatrix is giving now differs from what I'm saying, tomorrow morning there will be an extra corpse in the ditch outside the house—the corpse of Death Eater spy...

"I already know these interesting facts; my wand, which has been with me for decades, is unwilling to be an enemy of Harry Potter ..."

Voldemort turned around slowly. "Severus has already found out through Ollivander, so I need to get a new wand. Until I find the Elder Wand, do you have any suggestions, Severus?"

"When you kill Harry Potter, just change your wand. If you agree, I'm willing to offer my wand at that crucial moment..." Snape said expressionlessly as he respectfully handed over his wand.

"The cane core is made of snake nerve, and the outer bark is birch. It's really lovely, but the length is a bit unsuitable..."

Voldemort was pleased with his attitude. He took the wand, examined it, and handed it back. "Make good use of its power. The Head of House of Slytherin House needs this wand, Potions Master needs this wand."

"A loyal Death Eater would also need this wand." Snape bowed slightly as he took the thirteen and a half-inch wand, his expression calm.

"Well then, get some rest, you two loyal Death Eater."

"Yes, Master."

"..."

The sharp sound was mixed with a chilling breath, and the method stirred up a breeze of unknown origin in the room, causing the firelight and long shadows to flicker.

Footsteps echoed in the quiet attic corridor. The face of a tall, thin middle-aged man was hidden in the dim shadows. His hard-soled leather shoes clattered slowly on the wooden floor, the dull echoes seemingly the only sound in the entire house. Snape, dressed in a long black robe, walked toward the bedroom deep inside the attic.

After returning to his bedroom and closing the door to ensure that all prying eyes were blocked, the double agent, who had been on edge but remained composed, suddenly relaxed and let out a long breath.

He waved his wand, illuminating the room. The dozen or so candles on the ceiling shone brightly, making his shadow on the floor appear even longer.

Snape sat looking at the soft bed, rubbing his temples. Exhaustion spread through the room like a tide, but he couldn't sleep. Being in the same house as the Dark Lord and the Death Eater, he dared not let his guard down, and even when he slept, he kept one ear open.

Thankfully, school will start soon.

August 24, noon.

Hagrid's Hut on the Edge of the Forbidden Forest.

Loren sat on the steps in front of the Wooden House, holding a piece of golden-brown, crispy roasted pork belly, directing Hagrid as he worked.

If the lamb hasn't been marinated long enough, the cuts need to be made deeper to allow the flavors to penetrate.

It took Hagrid almost a day to get back to Hogwarts from the Ben Nevis Mountain. It took him three hours to convince the Centaur to sell him the five young lambs that were not yet fully grown. He worked until late at night to clean them and marinate them overnight.

Grawp couldn't wait that long; after breakfast, he started pestering Hagrid.

Finally, Loren couldn't stand it anymore and persuaded Hagrid to start baking early, since the giant, who looked like a small hill, was making a scene of pushing and shoving and acting cute, which was really an eyesore.

The lamb is skewered with iron skewers, placed on a grill above the flames, and allowed to stretch its limbs freely, rotating leisurely as it is slowly roasted, allowing the fat to seep out from under the skin and releasing wisps of aroma.

Because Hagrid's Transfiguration wasn't precise enough, he used the classic baking method, which involved almost no magic and relied entirely on manual turning. Fortunately, the Half-Giant was full of energy, and the weight of a few lambs was nothing to him.

Fang foreman, Ya Ya, lay down beside him, so hot that he wagged his tail back and forth but refused to open his mouth to breathe, as if afraid he wouldn't be able to contain his drool.

Grawp was restless; the aroma was practically stimulating his brain, but the wizard said it wasn't cooked yet. Frustrated, he vented his frustration on the trees beside the hut. Sixteen feet tall, he could easily reach most of the treetops, using his umbrella-sized hands to raid bird nests. In just a few hours, dozens of families had been wiped out in the surrounding area.

Some ribs with little meat were used to make soup. A few radishes were thrown in, and it simmered for several hours. When the lid was lifted, the rich aroma of meat with a hint of sweetness went straight to your head. The soup was milky white and thick, with a layer of clear mutton fat floating on top.

Hermione picked up the bowl and gently blew on it to cool it down. After taking a bite, the fresh and delicious flavor filled her mouth.

She let out a long, comfortable sigh, and seeing the milky white soup in the bowl, she couldn't help but wonder, "Why is it so white?"

Loren waved his ladle excitedly, "It's milk! I added milk!"

"..."

This person has had another episode.

Hermione silently lowered her head and continued to ladle the mutton soup from the pot.

There were five lambs in total. The two little wizards, the Half-Giant, and a dog ate one, and the other four all ended up in Grawp's stomach. After finishing, he still looked like he wanted more.

After dinner, Loren and Hermione walked along the paths toward the Castle, where they were to submit their mission to Dumbledore.

A gentle breeze caressed her cheeks, carrying the scent of summer, and made the girl's curly hair sway incessantly. The wind in the forest was different from the wind in the Mountainous Area; it was drier, the scent of grass was stronger, and there was a touch of the sultry heat of late summer. But all she could see was familiar scenery, which made her feel relaxed and comfortable.

Loren picked up a glass jar and shook it, completely disregarding the lives of the two hamsters inside. "Let's just not go back to Grimmauld Place. We can stay at the school until the start of the semester. Anyway, our luggage is in the pendant, and we don't have to squeeze onto the Express Train."

Hermione glanced at the two unconscious hamsters. "But we still need to go to Diagon Alley to buy things, have you forgotten?"

Loren chuckled. "Mrs. Weasley will buy it for us, and then Harry and the others can take it back to school."

Hermione was intrigued, but still hesitated. "This doesn't follow the proper procedures for starting school. Will Professor McGonagall agree?"

"Just ask her directly."

"What?"

"Look!" Loren gestured with his chin. "It's right ahead."

Professor McGonagall stood quietly outside the ancient and imposing Castle Entrance Hall, gazing at the Senior Deputy Minister of Magic through her simple black-rimmed glasses. An unspoken pressure emanated from her lenses, and her penetrating gaze forced Dolores Umbridge to look away.

After a long pause, Umbridge forced an awkward smile, her voice cloyingly sweet. "Professor McGonagall, we're doing this to make Hogwarts better, so that students can enjoy a better education."

"This is an internal matter of Hogwarts, and the Ministry of Magic has no right to interfere," Professor McGonagall said calmly, her expression indifferent.

Umbridge sensed her contempt and became enraged, even abandoning her maintained smile, "The Ministry of Magic is the England wizarding government. We have the right to govern magic schools within our borders, and you must unconditionally cooperate with our education policies!"

"When Hogwarts was established, the Ministry of Magic didn't even exist yet."

"You!!"

Umbridge looked extremely upset, and even wanted to take out her wand to teach this rude guy a lesson, but remembering her status as a senior professor, she gritted her teeth and swallowed her frustration. "Professor McGonagall, I must remind you that our policy has been unanimously approved by the Board of Governors. If you publicly resist the Ministry of Magic's intervention in the school, the Board of Governors will cut off the teaching funds for the new school year."

"Hogwarts began its financial reform plan three years ago. If you've been paying attention to Hogwarts' financial statements in recent years, you should have noticed this..."

Professor McGonagall spoke of this with a calm and collected expression, a stark contrast to the dumbfounded Pink Toad. "Everything we do is to avoid being controlled by any person or force. If you think you can force Hogwarts to comply with your money, you've got the wrong idea."

Umbridge's face was contorted with rage, and his chest heaved violently.

They even said you weren't Dumbledore's people, and that you had no intention of overthrowing the Ministry of Magic. If it weren't to support Dumbledore in seizing power, how could you have started fiscal reforms years in advance!

A bunch of ambitious guys!

After a brief silence, Umbridge slowly calmed her breathing and forced another nauseatingly sweet smile, "So, have you found a new Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor?"

Professor McGonagall couldn't help but frown slightly.

"Mad-Eye is too busy to be found, right..." Umbridge said in a affected, high-pitched voice, "After that incident at last year's Triwizard Tournament of Goblet of Fire, everyone knows that Mad-Eye was held captive by Barty Jr. Crouch Jr. for a whole year. The rumors that the Hogwarts Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor is cursed have become even more terrifying. I don't think anyone would dare to accept your job offer, right?"

"What do you mean?"

"Minister Fudge, taking into account the special circumstances of Hogwarts, kindly recommends a suitable candidate to you."

"Who?"

"Of course it is..." Umbridge giggled a few times, pinched her fingers, turned them around, and pointed directly at herself, "Me!"