Tracking Through the Snow

Professor Gorshak stood there for quite a while. After coughing twice, he slowly turned and entered the castle.

Hoffa had no idea what had happened. Only after he saw Gorshak leave did he emerge from behind the wall where he had been hiding, trudging through the snow after Joey.

"Hey, Joey!"

"Wait for me!"

After calling out several times, Joey finally turned around.

When he saw that it was Hoffa, he looked surprised.

"What are you doing here? Why aren't you watching the Quidditch match?"

Wading through snow up to his thighs, Hoffa caught up to Joey, panting.

"I just haven't seen you in ages. How are you feeling?"

At the mention of that, Joey waved his hand irritably.

"Don't mention it. I'd rather have died that day."

"What happened?"

"What happened? Those damned people said I violated staff regulations by taking students into the Forbidden Forest without authorization. They're suspending me pending investigation, and I won't be paid during that time. Without a salary, what will happen to Maya?"

The more Joey spoke, the more agitated he became.

"While I was in the hospital, she grew terribly weak. Those damned Europeans—would it kill them to live peacefully? Why do they have to keep fighting? I've had enough!"

Maya was an egg laid by Talas, Joey's previous Thunderbird.

Hoffa had wanted to comfort Joey, but after that tirade, he had no idea how to respond. After all, he was half European himself now.

A few seconds later, Joey seemed to realize he had lost his composure. He sighed and muttered, "Forget it. Why am I even telling you this?"

Hoffa did not mind. He caught up and asked, "Maya's condition is bad?"

"Terrible. Come take a look at her. Maybe after Christmas, I'll take her back to the United States."

Speaking gloomily, Old Joey led Hoffa back to his treehouse.

Every tree in the Forbidden Forest had now been carved with mysterious runes.

The moment he entered the Forbidden Forest, Hoffa felt eyes everywhere—unseen eyes.

Joey said dejectedly:

"Damn Dark wizards. Dumbledore and the headmaster put defensive markers on every nearby tree. Now, even if an extra mouse appears near the school, they'll know. A lot of magical creatures have sensed the surveillance and moved away from this area."

The two climbed into the treehouse. Joey brewed Hoffa a pot of tea in the living room, then slumped weakly into a chair.

In the wicker basket on the coffee table before them lay a large grayish-white bird egg. It was even duller than the last time Hoffa had seen it, and the blue patterns on its surface were almost imperceptible.

Joey took out his reddish-brown lenses and examined the egg carefully for a few moments before worriedly rubbing his hair.

"If this keeps up, I may really have to quit and go home. The environment here is far too unfriendly for her—the weather and the wizards alike."

Hoffa quickly took Joey's glasses and put them on.

Through the lenses, Hoffa saw that the embryo inside the shell had visibly grown thinner.

It really did seem to be in poor condition. Hoffa frowned. "Isn't there anything you can do?"

"Of course there is, but it can't be done in Britain."

Joey said worriedly:

"I've lived with Thunderbirds for thirty years. I know them very well. When they hatch, they need a dry, scorching environment. The drier and hotter, the better. But this place is completely unsuitable for her growth."

"Can't you simulate an environment?" Hoffa gestured with his hands. "Like the birds at breeding farms, with furnaces and magic."

"This is a magical creature, not a turkey."

Joey said angrily:

"Even if we could simulate dry heat, we can't reproduce the climate she likes. Do you understand climate? That muggy heat, that oppressive feeling, like a storm is about to break, with lightning and thunder in the air."

"Like the climate in Arizona?"

Hoffa asked.

"That's right. Thunderbirds love being born in that kind of environment."

Hoffa looked at the egg, then at Joey's gloomy old face. Suddenly, a strange idea came to him.

"I think I have an idea."

Hoffa said slowly.

"What idea?"

"Before school started, when I was in Diagon Alley, I saw a shop that specialized in selling weather. They sold all kinds of climates—thunderstorms, rainstorms, deserts, rainforests. They were exactly like the real thing." (Note: See Chapter 4.)

"There's a shop like that?"

Joey was stunned.

"Yeah, I saw it myself. Don't American wizards have them?"

Joey shook his head like a rattle drum.

Hoffa said, "We could buy one, if—"

"How much?" Joey asked directly.

Hoffa thought for a moment.

"If I remember correctly, it should be fifty Galleons."

"Fifty Galleons?" Joey sucked in a sharp breath.

"My salary at Hogwarts is only fifteen Galleons a month, and I send ten of them back to the United States every month. How could I have that much money? And those damned school administrators stopped my pay because of the Forbidden Forest incident."

Hoffa gave a bitter laugh.

Come to think of it, these wizards were really down-to-earth. Knowing magic did nothing to change the fact that they could still be poor. In the novels from his previous life, the Weasley family had been poor because they had so many children. It seemed Harry Potter had not lived particularly well after graduation either, since working at the Ministry of Magic did not pay much.

Holding his teacup, Hoffa took a sip and asked, "Why did you come work in Britain? Why not find something that paid more?"

"My family in the United States is too large. They argued every day until it drove me crazy. Talas didn't like my family either. It liked peace and quiet, so I brought it to Hogwarts."

"Do you have a lot of children?" Hoffa took another sip of tea and asked casually.

"Seventeen."

Old Joey stretched out his legs and sighed toward the sky.

Hoffa nearly choked on his tea.

"How many?"

"Seventeen. Seventeen. I'm a Mormon. Do you really think that's a lot?"

"I don't care what religion you follow!" Hoffa cried. "Seventeen? How did you manage that? Your wife—"

"I have nine wives."

Old Joey said calmly, "Back in the United States."

Pfft!!

A mouthful of scalding tea sprayed from Hoffa's mouth, splattering all over Joey's face.

The sympathy he had felt for Joey's difficult circumstances instantly vanished. Coughing, Hoffa stared in shock at the familiar yet unfamiliar old man before him.

He felt his worldview rapidly collapsing. Nine wives and seventeen children—what kind of concept was that? A feudal society? A slave society?

Why could someone marry nine wives and have seventeen children in 1938?

"Is that real?"

Hoffa asked hoarsely.

"Why do you look like you've seen a ghost?" Joey said angrily as he wiped the tea from his face with a towel.

"I told you, I'm a Mormon. A Mormon. Our religion permits polygamy."

Hoffa suddenly understood.

Then he immediately asked, "What are the requirements for joining?"

Old Joey was amused by Hoffa's expression. He shook his head and sighed. "You're still so young, yet you're already thinking about that stuff. But let me warn you, some things aren't as wonderful as they look. If I truly enjoyed life in the United States, I wouldn't have come to Hogwarts to do such hard work."

"Bullshit! You've experienced it, so of course you can lecture me about it!"

Hoffa snapped. "No wonder you're short on money. It wouldn't even be unfair if you died poor. God already opened nine windows for you. It's time to take some things away."

"You're a little devil for your age."

Old Joey laughed helplessly.

The conversation in the treehouse somehow went completely off track.

Hoffa completely forgot about the Thunderbird and the Quidditch match.

He kept asking Old Joey about the details of Mormonism—more specifically, the details of polygamy. What if the wives got jealous? How did he sleep every night? How often did he get a new wife? Was there anything particular about favoring one wife over another?

Eventually, Joey could not take it anymore.

Furiously getting to his feet, he shoved and drove Hoffa out the door.

"You brat, wait until you grow up before asking me those questions!"

Bang!

The door slammed shut, and Hoffa was pushed out of the treehouse.

The cold winter wind of Europe blew over him, and he sobered up a little.

Only then did he remember that he had promised Argeleia he would watch her Quidditch match. How had he suddenly ended up discussing polygamy with Old Joey?

Dejected, he climbed down the tree trunk and dropped into knee-deep snow. Suddenly, he felt as if life had given him another goal out of nowhere.

After graduating from Hogwarts, he would go to the United States and become a modern-day Wei Xiaobao.

As he walked, he seriously considered whether the plan was feasible.

When he reached the edge of the Forbidden Forest, Hoffa turned back toward the woods. He felt that he could not let the old man simply give up his job at the Hogwarts Hunting Grounds.

He had to make him stay.

He still had sixty Galleons left from the money Yinduo had given him last time. That should be enough to commission an Arizona climate blanket in Diagon Alley.

But before that, he should return to the Quidditch pitch. He wondered whether that boring match had ended yet.

The snow was heavy, and the ground was deep with it.

In the distance, the stands of the Quidditch pitch towered high. Four enormous house banners fluttered in the sky, and the pitch's pillars were faintly visible through the thick snowfall.

The match probably had not ended yet.

Shielding his eyes, Hoffa hurried toward the Quidditch pitch, trudging through the snow.

But halfway there, he saw a blurred figure standing alone in the distant snowfield. It looked out of place amid the endless white.

Someone was standing in the snow.

Hoffa thought for a moment, then curiously walked toward the figure. Why would someone be standing alone in the snow while everyone else was watching the match? Could that person, like him, have no interest in Quidditch?

After only a few steps, the distant figure suddenly raised its head.

It saw Hoffa.

The two stared at each other across the wind and snow.

Then it turned and ran, moving incredibly fast.

Hoffa was puzzled for a second, then he was horrified as he suddenly realized something.

The place where that person had been standing was the location of the teleportation array!

There was something wrong with that person!

With a crunch, he yanked his legs free. Hoffa began running through the snow on all fours.

"Stop!"

Hoffa shouted.

But the other person did not slow down at all. Instead, it ran even faster. Its robes flapped as its figure became increasingly blurred in the snow.

Hoffa drew his wand and stumbled toward the place where the figure had just stood.

Sure enough, nearly all the snow had been overturned, exposing the dark brown turf beneath.

The turf was riddled with pits. The massive abandoned teleportation array buried beneath it had been dug out again and destroyed like never before.

Every rune had been blasted to pieces. Violent magical energy filled the air. This patch of ground had endured at least ten powerful spells just now.

Got you!

Hoffa glanced at the blurry back. By then, it had become nothing more than a gray speck. It flickered a few times amid the heavy snow before disappearing.

It vanished in the direction of the Quidditch pitch.

Without a second thought, Hoffa chased after it.

This person was the true culprit behind Schmidt hunting him down.

If the teleportation array had not been destroyed, Yinduo would not have come to Hogsmeade looking for him. If Yinduo had not come looking for him, he would not have provoked three German Dark wizards for no reason, nor would he have encountered Dark wizards in the Forbidden Forest and escaped death twice in a row.

This person was the source of it all.

Who was it!?

Was it Schmidt himself?

Hoffa struggled onward at a sprint, pondering the person's identity.

The figure ahead had already vanished from sight.

Ghostwalk!

Hoffa activated his ability without hesitation.

As the world changed color, his entire body disappeared into the wind and snow.

In his shadow state, his speed increased dramatically. Moving more than three meters with every step, he left a trail of faint footprints across the snow.

Ten seconds later, when he leaped out of stealth, he activated the ability again without hesitation.

Twenty seconds of high-speed running brought him closer to the flickering gray figure ahead.

It was right at the entrance to the Quidditch pitch.

Following its footprints, Hoffa charged into the Quidditch pitch. The instant he emerged from stealth, he placed a hand on the other person's shoulder.

"Hey!"

The person suddenly turned around and shoved Hoffa away.

In that instant, Hoffa saw a mask—a strange, pale mask.

He froze on the spot. In the moment he blanked out, the masked person dashed away again in the blink of an eye.

Hoffa jolted and wanted to give chase.

But at that very moment, a thunderous cheer erupted from the pitch.

Everyone rose to their feet. Some even jumped down from the towers, trying to embrace their players.

Brilliant blue streamers danced through the sky, and the eagle emblem glittered amid the wind and snow.

The commentator roared in a hoarse voice:

"Argeleia, this young Ravenclaw substitute Seeker, stepped forward and caught the Golden Snitch while her team was a hundred points behind, saving them from disaster. With skills beyond anything we could even dream of. It's simply unbelievable. For quite some time to come, Ravenclaw will have another trump card of its own. Of course, the Slytherin team performed..."

The commentator rambled on from the platform.

The Ravenclaws ran about in wild celebration.

The Slytherins hung their heads, their faces full of regret.

Hoffa stood pale-faced at the entrance to the pitch. The footprints in the snow had been completely erased by the surge of fanatical spectators. That vague figure vanished utterly into the crowd.

Streamers and scraps of colored paper drifted down from the sky, catching on Hoffa's face.

Argeleia raised the Golden Snitch and flew a circle through the air with her teammates before slowly descending to the ground. The crowd's cheers grew even louder.

But their cheering did not affect Hoffa in the slightest.

He had seen that person.

Seen him!

Several months ago, in the Violet Society Chamber of Secrets—the person who had taught him the Disillusionment Charm!

Amid the crowd's praise, Argeleia raised the Golden Snitch high. Her face, red from the cold, was full of pride.

Hoffa stood blankly amid the crowd.

Suddenly, a hand pulled Hoffa out of the throng and dragged him to the front.

Miranda said reproachfully, "Where did you go? I've been looking everywhere for you!"

Hoffa came back to his senses, but had no idea how to answer.

At that moment, Argeleia came excitedly toward Hoffa, holding up the glittering Golden Snitch.

"Did you see it? Did you see my final backward broom-riding move?"

Hoffa slowly nodded. "You're the best Seeker I've ever seen."

"Ha ha ha ha!"

Argeleia laughed smugly.