Old Enchantress (Seeking Reads, Seeking Votes)

Flitwick looked rather uncomfortable.

He raised his hand, paused, and gritted his teeth: "Crouch down!"

Harry crouched, and only then did Flitwick continue to wave his hand, patting him on the shoulder: "The name of You-Know-Who carries magic, very powerful magic."

"Whoever speaks his name will be known to him."

"No matter where they are, he can track them down, arrive, and execute the one who spoke his name."

"But he's dead now, or rather, we can consider him dead." Harry shrugged.

Flitwick shook his head: "Of course, if that were the only extent of such magic."

"In reality, his name is also a type of curse."

"Only those who truly do not fear him are unaffected by this curse and can speak his name fluently."

"As for those who fear him, they will only grow more fearful, which in turn feeds him power and makes him even stronger."

Harry had a sudden realization and nodded: "The effects of this curse haven't faded?"

"No." Flitwick looked troubled, "I always suspected he wasn't dead, until some time ago, when Dumbledore told me he truly wasn't."

No wonder...

Even Muggle-born young wizards would follow suit and call him "You-Know-Who"; as long as there was fear, the fear would only deepen.

"Alright, let's not talk about such unpleasant things anymore." Flitwick cleared his throat, "Now, I must take you away."

"By Apparition?" Harry felt a bit expectant.

Flitwick shook his head: "No, you are still young; we shall use a safer method."

He raised his wand.

Harry looked up into the distance as an unusually lively surge of magic welled up, converging in the space ahead. With a deafening bang, a bright light flashed—

A purple, gaudy triple-decker bus pulled up in front of them.

On the windshield, the words "Knight Bus" were written in gold, flowing script.

A man in a purple uniform jumped down and began his introduction in a near-chant: "Welcome to the Knight Bus, an emergency transport for the stranded witch or wizard. Just stick out your wand, and we can take you anywhere you wish to go."

"We're going to Godric's Hollow." Flitwick waved his wand, and two gold Galleons flew out, landing in the man's hand, "Two, just beds will do."

"Care for a bit of chocolate? Only three Sickles extra." The man pitched enthusiastically, "If you're willing to pay one more Sickle, you can get a hot water bottle and a toothbrush..."

Flitwick refused: "No, that won't be necessary."

The man sighed, gave Flitwick twelve silver Sickles in change, and invited them aboard.

The space inside the carriage was much larger than it appeared from the outside, furnished with six or seven beds. Most were empty, and besides them, there was only one other passenger.

"Our new passengers, Professor Flitwick from Hogwarts, and the young wizard he's brought along." The conductor boasted to the driver, his tone smug.

This gave Harry a rather bad premonition.

They sat down on two adjacent beds.

"Let's go!" the conductor shouted cheerfully.

With another deafening bang, the entire bus shot forward at high speed, bouncing like a rabbit, nearly causing Harry to stumble.

As for Professor Flitwick, he rolled across the bed twice.

"This bus is certainly fast." Harry's expression was a bit grim.

The keen senses of a Witcher allowed him to capture every piece of information flashing past his eyes and ears, but these chaotic inputs were useless; they rushed through his brain like a torrential river, making his scalp tingle.

And it kept bouncing—

Harry had to constantly adjust his center of gravity.

Flitwick took it in stride, rolling back and forth on the bed as the bus swayed: "Harry, don't be so tense, relax a little."

"That's just how the Knight Bus is."

Half an hour later.

The conductor shook the other passenger awake: "Elgin, we're here."

The passenger struggled to stand, but before he could take two steps, he collapsed weakly onto his trunk and was tossed out by the conductor.

Less than half an hour later.

The conductor smiled at the two of them: "Godric's Hollow, we're here!"

Harry took a deep breath and stood up.

The conductor looked surprised: "Incredible. You're the first young wizard who could remain so calm and composed while riding our bus."

"Ever considered working for us after you graduate?"

"After all, we are official employees of the Ministry of Magic."

Harry shook his head: "Thank you, but I have a question."

The conductor said solemnly, "State your request."

Harry said, "You all claim the Knight Bus can go anywhere."

"That's right. As long as it's on land, there's nowhere we can't go." The conductor tilted his head, looking quite proud.

Harry remained expressionless. "Is that so?"

"Then I'm willing to pay you one Galleon, or ten if you like, to take me into a vault at Gringotts. Any one will do, preferably the wealthiest one."

The conductor's face stiffened.

The driver turned around and muttered, "No, that won't do. We can't engage in illegal activities."

"Then you should change your advertisement, my dear sirs." Harry waved his wand, lifting his luggage—with Professor Flitwick by his side, he could cast spells with bold confidence.

The conductor nodded with difficulty. "You're right. That might be a good suggestion."

Once they stepped off the bus.

"How about a rest?" Flitwick suggested, his face looking rather pale. "There's a wizarding pub here, too."

Harry nodded. "Of course. I think I need a rest as well."

The Knight Bus...

It really is a terrifying thing.

He would rather endure ten Warlock teleports than ride that thing ever again.

Flitwick led him to the back door of the pub, pulled out his wand, tapped it lightly, and pushed the door open—a sense of familiarity rushed to meet them. Just like the Leaky Cauldron, it was grimy, yet filled with wizards.

"Quite a few wizards enjoy drinking with Muggles, but most still prefer to stay in our own world," Professor Flitwick explained. "What would you like to drink? Butterbeer?"

"A glass of whiskey, please," Harry said.

Flitwick called out to the bar, "Two whiskeys."

"Where do you want to go later?"

"Dumbledore said he hopes you can go home and take a look—you know what I'm referring to."

"Or would you rather visit Godric's Hollow? It's the most famous gathering place for half-wizards."

"Or perhaps... go straight to see that blacksmith?"

Harry was silent for a moment. "Let's go see the blacksmith first. Once everything is taken care of, I'll go home and have a look."

They drank two glasses.

Professor Flitwick's complexion recovered quite a bit. He paid the bill, led him outside, walked through a long alleyway, and entered a subterranean vault.

They traveled further through the vault until they reached the entrance of a cave, where he raised his hand and knocked.

Before long, an old goblin opened the door. Upon seeing Flitwick, his eyes turned sharp in an instant. "It's Professor Flitwick, the greatest human wizard duelist!"

"What a rare guest. I thought you wouldn't come back to this..."

"Grimy, stinking underground again."

Flitwick was equally blunt. "Ragnuk, it's about the matter in the letter. My best student needs a blacksmith, which is why I found you."

"Harry Potter." The old goblin looked up, his eyes greedy. "I heard you are the heir of Gryffindor. Is that sword stolen by Gryffindor also in your hands?"

"I haven't inherited it yet," Harry replied.

He rubbed his hands together. "If you are willing to return that sword to me, I can help you forge whatever you desire."

Flitwick was furious. "That belongs to Gryffindor! Since when did it become yours?"

"It was forged by my great-grandfather." Ragnuk lifted his head. "Things forged by goblins belong to goblins! Gryffindor continued to occupy it even after his death—that despicable, shameless human..."

Harry raised his wand and pressed it against the goblin's head. "Perhaps I need to cast a few spells to help clear your head so we can discuss business properly?"

Ragnuk's body stiffened.

"I want an excellent blacksmith to help me," Harry said softly. "But don't try to blackmail me with this, alright? I just stepped off that insane bus, and I'm in a very bad mood."

Ragnuk spat. "You human wizards are truly despicable!"

"Fine, fine."

"What kind of armor do you want to forge?"

Harry waved his wand, his trunk opened, and a Troll hide wrapped in a cloth bag flew out, landing before Ragnuk. "Troll hide. Make a set of leather armor."

"Oh, terrible material," Ragnuk muttered. "Why not use dragon hide? That's high-quality material."

Harry remained expressionless. "I'm still young. You should know how expensive dragon hide is. I don't want an expensive suit of armor that I can only wear for a year or two."

"Fine, Troll hide will barely suffice." He reluctantly agreed. "Then we should discuss the price."

"Let me think..."

"You'll have to provide me with a furnace."

Harry raised an eyebrow. "You're a blacksmith, and you don't have your own furnace?"

"Aha, what a shameless question." Ragnuk clapped his hands and clicked his tongue twice. "Everything belongs to you human wizards."

"We goblins can possess, at most, nothing more than a hideout akin to a burrow."

Professor Flitwick spoke up, "I can use a charm to provide you with..."

"No, I want a real furnace," Ragnuk said with extreme firmness. "This is a mandatory condition, even if you have to give me fewer gold Galleons."

Flitwick frowned.

Harry also furrowed his brows.

"Little wizard, you still have to grow up. The Sword of Gryffindor is less than a meter long; you will need a longer sword in the future, won't you?" Ragnuk continued, his tone turning gentle. "This is a mutually beneficial matter."

"It is just a furnace."

Thank you everyone, we are first in the category! Three chapters today as well!

Thanks to Su Zitian for the tip!

Let me calculate tonight to see how much more I need to add another chapter!