Chapter 47

Seeing Potter come unhinged was the last thing I expected during my walk. When I sensed an anomaly in one of the non-wizard houses, I decided to investigate. My curiosity piqued by the nature of the anomaly—ensuring the safety of muggles wasn't my primary concern.

Upon entering, I found a room drenched in blood from ceiling to floor. It was immediately clear that someone had exploded here. When I saw Potter, wiping his glasses clean of blood, I wanted to curse out loud, but I restrained myself. Let Dumbledore handle this mess, I thought.

I sent a Patronus to the Headmaster of Hogwarts and waited, casting spells around the house to conceal it from Muggle eyes. Dumbledore arrived swiftly, in less than five minutes. He carefully surveyed the scene, glanced at Potter, then at me, and silently nodded as if confirming something in his mind. Afterward, he pulled me aside, leaving the boy in the middle of the blood-stained room.

"Headmaster, shouldn't we get him out of there?" I suggested, referring to Potter.

Dumbledore barely acknowledged my words and instead sent several Patronuses to summon McGonagall, Snape, and Moody. Moments later, Madam Pomfrey arrived and promptly put the boy to sleep.

"Hmm," Moody muttered, his magical eye whirling madly as he scrutinized the details. "Looks like someone pushed Potter to his breaking point."

"We need to decide how to handle this," Dumbledore sighed. It was evident that this was not the evening he had planned.

"I've always said he's unstable," Snape declared, as if vindicated. "I've long recommended therapy, but no… he's just a teenager with raging hormones… Tsk."

"Severus, please," Dumbledore replied, rubbing his temple, clearly trying to organize his thoughts.

Snape turned away in silence.

"Alright," the Headmaster exhaled. "Minerva, Alastor, clean up the blood and restore the kitchen to its original state. Severus, erase the Dursleys' memories and anyone else who might be linked to the exploded person. Timothy, we need to discuss what you saw."

Dumbledore and I stepped aside.

"Can you describe what you saw?" he asked.

"I was walking and felt an anomaly in this house," I said, nodding toward Potter's home. "Curious, I entered and found a bloody scene. I immediately sent a Patronus to you. That's all."

"You didn't see what spells Harry Potter used?" Dumbledore inquired.

"No, nothing," I replied, shaking my head.

"I see," he nodded thoughtfully. "Can I count on you to keep this incident a secret?"

"Yes," I agreed. Why would I spread this? For one, there's no point. From what I gathered, Harry Potter is Dumbledore's favorite, and he could clean up any accusations, no matter how serious. "I'm not particularly interested in Potter or his life. Just make sure he stays away from Hermione. I wouldn't want her dealing with his instability."

"You needn't worry about that," the Headmaster assured me. "I will take measures to ensure this doesn't happen again."

"I hope so," I muttered.

Potter could become a real problem in the future. If the Headmaster can't handle him, someone else surely will—with a curse or a simple Avada Kedavra. No one will tolerate a madman. Professor McGonagall and the Auror quickly finished cleaning up the blood. Snape took a little longer to erase the Dursleys' memories, but that wasn't all. He also had to wipe the memory of the exploded person from any other non-wizard who might have had close contact.

"So, what are you going to do with Potter?" I asked the Headmaster.

"I'll send him to the Weasleys until the end of summer," the old wizard sighed. "It would be better for him to stay here, but it would hinder his recovery."

"Fine," I exhaled, getting up. "Then I'll resume my walk."

"Good luck, Timothy," the Headmaster nodded. "And remember your promise."

"Yes, yes," I nodded.

I no longer had any desire to continue walking, so I went home. Honestly, the thought that the Headmaster might have plans for Potter wouldn't leave me. After all, he wouldn't let a student live with Muggles who know about the magical world and despise it. It's not a suitable environment for a teenager. Frankly, I wouldn't be surprised if Potter's breakdowns were a consequence of living with such relatives. I wouldn't wish that on anyone.

For my own safety, I stopped concerning myself with Potter. In fact, I pushed him out of my mind but didn't forget to warn Hermione to avoid him as much as possible. She accepted these words without question.

August 1st crept up unnoticed. Over the past few days, I returned to practicing potion-making and analyzing books. The Yaxley family's collection held many fascinating books and treatises on potion-making at various levels. In my spare time, working on my skills, I could see growth. I'm still far from mastering the craft, but little by little, with Slughorn's help, I'll reach that high level.

Selecting an outfit for the Ministry Ball didn't take long. Since the invitation didn't include a partner, I didn't have to worry about mismatched attire. A black suit, white shirt, and matching black shoes would do.

Apparating at the scheduled time, I joined the end of the line. The ball was being held outdoors. In the distance, a large tent stood ready in case of bad weather. Conversations in the crowd were idle—about the weather, about Sirius Black, other wizards, and all sorts of rumors. Among the average wizards, there were a few stronger personalities, but none of them could compare to me or Dumbledore.

There was a queue behind me. When I reached the Auror, I handed over my invitation. He silently inspected it and waved me through. I entered, greeted by the sounds of soft dance music and the murmur of wizard conversations.

The largest crowd surrounded the Minister of Magic, who was enthusiastically discussing something. Smaller groups formed around other wizards, but no one seemed eager to stray far from the heart of magical Britain's power. Personally, though, Cornelius Fudge's strength wasn't impressive—he became Minister through connections and scheming. I can't say I have any respect for him. His foolish decisions left many Hogwarts students unable to continue their education after their OWLs, throwing them out onto the streets.

So, I wasn't in a hurry to talk to him. What caught my interest were the tables laden with all sorts of food. There were various snacks, from simple sandwiches to entirely magical dishes. The drinks were flavorful and pleasant to sip.

"I see another true connoisseur of festivities," a plump, gray-haired wizard with slightly flushed cheeks remarked. He held a glass of some alcoholic drink in one hand and a piece of roasted meat in the other. "The food, that's the reason to come to these things."

"I agree," I nodded.

The man quickly moved to the next table, laden with fish dishes, and settled there contentedly. I stepped aside to relax a bit. Not being well-known among the "elites," no one rushed to engage with me, which was surprising. I thought they would recognize who is who in the power hierarchy. But no… they just live in their bubble, and as time goes on, their field of vision narrows to only those above or below them in the Ministry hierarchy.

This realization felt quite odd. Of course, I was glad not to be surrounded by politicians hunting for favors, but it was strange they couldn't see beyond their noses. I wondered if magical politicians from other countries were the same, or if they were different.

"Timothy," a familiar voice called.

Turning around, I saw hunter Brock.

"Brock," I responded, extending my hand for a handshake. "Good to see you, old friend."

"Old, am I?" he chuckled. "I've got plenty of life left in me. But it's good to see you too. By the way, congratulations on earning two Masteries in Charms and Transfiguration."

"Thank you," I nodded.

"I remember you as a Hogwarts student, looking for side gigs," he mused. "And now look at you—probably beating off girls with a stick."

"Something like that," I replied with a smile. "And how have you been?"

"I've finally retired," the hunter said, allowing a satisfied smile to spread across his face. "I've done enough hunting. Now, I'll train the next generation of hunters… Maybe even open my own small school."

"Then congratulations. You of all people deserve a happy retirement."

I raised my glass in a small but pleasant toast. Brock clinked his glass with mine and drank.

"What are your plans, Timothy?" he asked.

"Well, I have a student," I said calmly. "Until Hogwarts starts, I'll keep teaching her. After that, I'll probably head to Europe."

"Why?"

"I want to finish some unfinished business."

"I see," he nodded. "I bought some land and plan to build a small house there. Maybe raise some livestock for home-grown meat. Live a quiet life."

"That's a wise decision," I nodded. "Taking a break from work is necessary."

"I'm glad you understand," he said. "Not everyone in the guild is ready to let me go, but I've made up my mind."

We continued discussing mutual interests for a while, focusing on magical creatures and spell techniques against them. Brock was eager to hear about the monsters and magical beings of distant lands and to share his thoughts on their strengths, weaknesses, and how to counter them. I agreed with some of his assessments, while others I did not. Nonetheless, his vast experience allowed him to understand magical creatures he hadn't personally encountered, just from descriptions.

The evening transitioned into more active dancing. With the alcohol taking effect, the wizards became more open, though no one seemed particularly eager to chat with me, nor was I interested in mingling. Brock left early, citing morning commitments, and I stayed back to observe the crowd.

As night fully took hold, the older wizards left, leaving the younger ones to party in full swing. A band had been invited, and they immediately energized the crowd into lively dancing. The music grew loud, which wasn't to my liking, so I took my leave as well.

I had no more business there.

The plans I'd shared with Brock were true. The only thing he didn't know was that I intended to return to Malta for a few semesters to hone my combat skills. Now that I had enough funds for training, it would be foolish not to invest in myself. Strengthening oneself is always a wise choice.

Instead of returning home, I went to Maggie and Tamara, who were delighted to see me. What had been a dull evening turned exciting, as both were more than eager to satisfy my needs.

In the morning, they presented me with their business plan, and I allocated twenty thousand pounds as an initial investment. After receiving the money, both thanked me in their unique way.

Satisfied, I went home. There, I found a letter from Fleur Delacour, congratulating me on achieving Mastery in Charms and Transfiguration. I should visit this half-Veela and see how she's doing. I clearly remember the feelings she had for me the last time we met. I wonder if those feelings have faded or remained the same… I quickly wrote a reply and sent it back with the same owl, not forgetting to feed it first.

August 5th arrived faster than the first. It was a strange feeling, as if time had sped up. Perhaps it was because I'd been busy with magical matters. As they say, time flies when you're working.

Arriving at the Transfiguration Guild building in Diagon Alley, I stopped for a moment to admire the various decorations on the building, which showcased the guild's power. Being an influential part of magical Britain, it made sense that the building would look grand. Reputation and "showing off" are fickle things.

Inside, nothing had changed since my last visit. The same reception area for visitors, columns, and statues. Wizards hurried between columns, either working as administrative staff for the guild or as ordinary members or visitors.

"Master Jody," a short young man with a badge reading "Aaron" approached me. "Allow me to escort you to the Hall of Distinguished Masters."

"Of course, lead the way, Aaron," I nodded.

He led me through a small, previously unnoticed door, which he opened and allowed me to pass through. We walked along long corridors, taking several turns and stairs until we reached a large, enchanted door. This door drew attention with its elaborate ornaments—golden vines that seemed to slither like snakes on the surface, berries that appeared and disappeared, sculpted mountains, water scenes, and numerous other motifs tied to magical folklore.

Aaron opened the door, ushering me into a spacious hall lit by numerous magical lights. I immediately recognized familiar faces. Master Anthony Briton and Master Donatello Ratti were the first to greet me as I entered through a door near them. Further in, I saw McGonagall conversing with an elderly witch. A bit farther away stood Dumbledore, engrossed in reading some papers.

The atmosphere was productive, which I liked immediately.

"Greetings, Masters," I addressed the wizards.

"Master Jody," Anthony replied. "Good to see you in good health. I'm thrilled that you achieved Mastery in Charms. It's a great accomplishment for a wizard."

"Especially at such a young age," Donatello added.

"Thank you," I replied. "I just love magic."

"Understandable," Anthony nodded.

"I've also heard you've taken on a student," Master Ratti mentioned. "You're quite brave. I didn't take my first student until after I proposed my own theory on soft bodies."

"Same here," nodded Master Briton. "But we're not here to judge. None of us became Masters in two disciplines before turning twenty."

"Masters," a young man with a "P" on his chest approached the wizards. "Archmage Dumbledore requests your presence to discuss an issue."

"Very well," Anthony replied, while Donatello simply nodded. "Master Jody, we'll see you later."

I nodded and decided to approach McGonagall. The professor noticed me only when I was almost there. She smiled and beckoned me over.

"Olga, allow me to introduce you to Master Jody," she said, indicating me. The woman she was talking to wasn't just old… No, she seemed ancient, as if she was crumbling with age.

"Ah," the old woman spoke in a creaky voice, "I've heard of you, heard of you…"

"Master Jody, this is Master Olga Willow."

"Thank you for the introduction, Master McGonagall," I nodded to the professor. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Master Willow."

"Would you like me to introduce you to my great-granddaughter?" the elderly woman asked. McGonagall just rolled her eyes. "She's very beautiful."

The woman pulled out an amulet, opened it, and showed me a picture of a woman, not a girl, whose face was already lined with wrinkles.

"Yes, very beautiful," I replied, trying not to disappoint the old woman. "But I'm not sure I'm ready."

"Uh-huh," she grumbled. "You can flirt with young Marigold, but not with my beautiful daughter… Tsk. Men, you never see your happiness. Always the same."

"Are you acquainted with Isolde?" I asked, steering the conversation away from her complaints.

"Yes, she's the daughter of my third cousin's great-granddaughter," she said. "I was surprised when the aloof Isolde informed all her relatives of her romance with a young Master of two magical paths."

I didn't expect word to spread so quickly… though, I suppose I shouldn't be surprised. She must have informed her relatives so they'd know whom she's dealing with and who to hold accountable if anything happens to her. It's a reasonable reaction and decision for a witch.

"Well then," the elderly witch announced, clapping her hands, "I need a smoke. Anyone care to join?"

"I don't smoke," I replied.

McGonagall just shook her head. She wasn't a smoker either.

"Pff. Whatever, dorks"

Ignoring her, McGonagall spoke to me quietly. "Sometimes her mind slips into the past, and she thinks she's back a hundred and fifty years ago. Though she hasn't had such episodes recently."

"Is she really that old?" I was surprised.

"Yes," the Transfiguration professor nodded. "Rumor has it she smacked the Headmaster's father's backside when he wasn't even a student at Hogwarts yet. But the Headmaster denies it… and I believe him."

"Wow," I could only mutter.

Wizards slowly gathered in the hall, filling it with a gentle murmur of conversation. When the time came, Dumbledore ascended a small podium and waited. The chatter quickly died down, and all eyes turned to the Hogwarts Headmaster, now acting as Archmage.

"Friends," he began. The Archmage's powerful voice filled the entire hall, creating the impression that he was speaking to each person individually—it was that clear. "Today, we've gathered once again to discuss some important matters concerning our Guild."

Dumbledore paused for a moment, then waved his wand, and folders with papers appeared before each wizard. With some curiosity, I opened mine and began reading. Page after page, I realized there was nothing of real interest. It contained financial reports, warehouse inventories, lists of new members, and brief descriptions of these new members. Overall, it might be interesting to someone, but not to me.

The meeting turned out to be a center for mundane, soulless administrative discussions. As far as I could see, there was nothing particularly exciting or important for me.

The profit and loss discussions dragged on for quite some time as people searched for ways to increase the Guild's revenue without straying too far from its professional domain. No one proposed anything ground-breaking. I had no such ideas myself, nor do I expect to have any soon.

After this administrative session, there was a break for tea or coffee, during which more wizards approached me to introduce themselves. I was a new face, and others wanted to understand who I was, whether I belonged to any political faction, and if so, which one. The realization that I was "aligned" with Dumbledore's faction came quickly. Did this automatically make me enemies? No… Future opponents in debates, perhaps? Yes.

The Masters turned out to be quite friendly, which surprised me. I expected more competition, backstabbing, and other unpleasant behavior. But it wasn't like that. It was a fairly normal organization that worked fairly with its members, supporting them. It reminded me of the concept of guilds from my previous world.

The second part of the meeting was a bit more interesting, as the wizards exchanged their ideas on advancing certain research directions. The groups of Masters working on different topics debated intensely, while the rest of us were mostly observers. I fell into the second group.

This part was already more engaging than the usual administrative routine, as I learned that wizards were working on interesting projects rather than just coasting on the legacies of the ancients.

The debates were quite heated, but no one resorted to insults. For the most part, wizards tried to listen to their opponents before presenting their own ideas and thoughts in response.

Overall, it was enjoyable to witness such a discussion. On some questions they posed to each other, I felt like I had answers—thanks to Superanalysis. But for now, I decided not to jump in with my ideas. Let them ponder on their own for a bit. Perhaps in the future, but not now.

"What do you think, Master Jody?" McGonagall asked as the wizards wrapped up their discussion and Dumbledore returned to the podium.

"I didn't particularly enjoy the first, administrative part," I admitted calmly. "But the second part with the debates… now that was more interesting."

"I understand," she replied. "But administrative matters are part of a Guild Master's responsibilities. You can't escape them."

"Friends," Dumbledore began again, "we did great work today. I consider this meeting successful. Does anyone have additional questions or topics to discuss?"

Silence was his answer.

"Well then, our meeting is concluded."

With those words, wizards began to disperse. Conversations about various magical and non-magical topics flowed actively. Ideas and opinions on the presented projects were exchanged with fervor.

I joined a discussion about one of the projects, not by choice, but because a wizard asked for my opinion. Without revealing too much of my own thoughts and ideas, I tried to express what I believed could help address one of the issues. The wizards listened attentively, then debated my suggestion from all angles, concluding that it might be a valuable addition to the solution—or perhaps even the solution itself. It wasn't exactly that, but I wasn't going to disappoint them.

Leaving the Transfiguration Guild building, I encountered Lady Greengrass and her husband. She seemed quite displeased with something, glancing at her daughters with a look that promised punishment at home. But as soon as she saw me, her face lit up with joy and the desire to converse. I could almost hear the gears turning in her head. She thought I wouldn't notice her glare at her daughters, but it was quite obvious.

"Greetings, Master Jody," she said with a broad smile. "I didn't expect to see you here today."

"Well, I am a Transfiguration Master, so why wouldn't I be here?" I replied.

"Of course," she nodded. "I don't know if you've been formally introduced, but allow me to present my husband, Tobias."

"Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Greengrass," I nodded and extended my hand. He shook it in return. "We've met briefly, but only in passing."

"Yes," he nodded. "But it's good to meet you properly."

"Why are we standing in the middle of the street?" I asked. "Shall we have some tea? Or perhaps Daphne and..."

"Astoria, my younger daughter," Lady Greengrass interjected.

"Yes, Astoria, have other plans?"

Both girls blushed. Apparently, it wasn't every day that adults took an interest in their opinions. While the older Daphne maintained her composure, the younger Astoria seemed especially embarrassed.

"Well then, let's go for tea," I suggested. Neither Greengrass daughter objected.

The tea house we chose was decorated in a Chinese style. Young Chinese servers, who had immigrated to Britain at the turn of the century, worked here. Rumor had it they made excellent tea. I wouldn't know; I hadn't tried it yet. But the rumors spoke highly of it.

A young woman in traditional Chinese attire approached, bowed, and placed menus before each of us. She then silently withdrew, allowing us to make our own orders.

"Master Jody," Lady Greengrass began.

"You can call me by my name," I offered.

"Then you can do the same," she nodded with a pleasant smile. "Timothy, could you tell me about your experience teaching a young witch?"

"Hmm," I mused. "You know, Joan, it's not that difficult. At least it seems that way to me. Your daughter, Daphne, must be acquainted with Hermione Granger?"

"You know her, don't you?" she asked her daughter.

"Yes," Daphne replied. "Although there were rumors among the students that she wouldn't be able to return for the third year."

"She will," I assured. "So, Hermione is my student, and we've been working together all summer. I think you'll see her progress at school."

"Girls, don't forget to wash your hands," Joan instructed her daughters. "Tobias, make sure they do."

"Of course," the man sighed.

The three of them left, leaving Joan and me alone at the table.

"Timothy, do you have a girlfriend?" Joan suddenly inquired.

"Yes," I replied, noticing that she'd placed her hand on my knee. "Joan? What are you doing?"

"If you didn't want this, you'd have already moved my hand," she smirked.

"But you're married…" I hesitated, curious about what she would do.

"Tobias isn't my husband, just the father of my daughters," she said calmly. "I can sleep with whoever I want, whenever I want, and he can't say or do anything about it. Not that I often do this… but with you, hmm."

What the heck… She is kinda weird but I will not decline an offer.

Her last words were sensual and inviting. However, I caught her hand and gently caressed it, keeping her from venturing too far. I wasn't opposed to taking things further with Joan Greengrass, but first, she needed to understand the risks and consequences.

"Joan," I warned softly, "if we proceed, there's no going back. You will belong solely to me, and no one else. If you so much as look at another man, I will make you regret it. Do you understand?"

"I'm not afraid of danger," she replied, though a small voice in her head whispered caution. But it was drowned out by another voice urging her to see what would happen if she stuck her head into the dragon's mouth.

What an intriguing woman. Letting go of her hand, I slid my hand down her body, discreetly altering part of her robe into an ordinary shirt. From the outside, it still looked like she was in a robe, but I could see that her legs were fully bare, with easy access to her most intimate areas. It felt delightful to run my hand along her lovely legs and play with her sensitive spot. Too bad we couldn't go further, as Tobias and the girls returned.

Restoring her clothing, we resumed our conversation. It was no longer serious or important. The tea we ordered turned out to be delicious, as did the light cookies that accompanied it.

We parted after about an hour. Joan, after our brief encounter, was especially sweet to me. I'm not sure if others noticed, but I did. I think I'll invite her to a private meeting later to fully accept her offer.

Back home, I resumed analyzing one of the books I'd downloaded earlier. Thinking about my plans for the rest of the month wasn't the wisest move, as I already knew what I was going to do next: go to Malta for further training, and for now, focus on mentoring Hermione. Though there's not much progress to be made in a month, perhaps there will be some improvement in her grasp of spells.

Lost in such thoughts, I fell asleep. My dreams were strange, but not memorable.

The morning was rainy, which didn't particularly please me. Nonetheless, I calmly transported myself to Hermione's place and took her on a small hike in the forest. She was thrilled by this idea and eagerly agreed to go with me.

The low-level magical forest welcomed us with the scent of freshness and moisture. Looking up at the sky, one could see that the dark clouds had moved on, leaving behind wet earth.

"What will we be doing here, teacher?" Hermione asked, eyeing an interesting magical tree with small blue crystals on the tips of its leaves.

"Just walking," I replied calmly. "Exploring nature and talking about various topics. Let's go; there's a wonderful spot in this forest with a great view."

"Shouldn't we Apparate there?" Hermione asked.

"No," I answered. "We'll walk, and you'll identify the magical plants I point out."

"Alright," Granger agreed.

This magical forest wasn't considered dangerous, as it was monitored by several rangers who could call in a hunter squad to eliminate any threats. Why is it important? Such safe magical forests host rare plants that serve as prized ingredients for many creatures. These plants are used in potions that can heal bodies after splinching—a significant aid for young wizards during Apparition training.

Additionally, the forest produces magical materials for wands. Without predators, and under the care of herbologists, these plants accumulate enough magical energy to create top-notch wands. This place is Ollivander's main resource hub. Of course, even ordinary trees can serve as wand cores, but those wands would be simple—not the best choice for wizards pursuing deeper magical paths.

In short, it's a sanctuary of valuable resources for wizards, accessible only to Masters. No other wizards without the necessary rank are allowed entry.

"What's this plant?" I pointed to a small flower.

"Liar's Rose," Hermione identified it after a brief thought. "It looks like a rose, but the tiny flecks on its leaves give it away."

"What's it used for?"

"Ointments for mild burns," she said, then added thoughtfully, "and some antidotes."

"Correct," I nodded.

We walked past, leaving the flower where it was growing.

"What's this?" I pointed to another plant in the shadows.

"Dragon Fern," she answered quickly. "It's not used for anything, though many believe it can grant a wish in rare cases."

"Do you believe in that legend?" I asked.

"I don't think this plant can guarantee a wish," Hermione replied. "If it could, people wouldn't leave it growing here. Powerful wizards would take it and cultivate it for their wishes."

"Logical," I couldn't help but agree.

We passed by the plant and continued our journey. At times, we paused so she could examine certain plants more closely and answer my questions. Some of the rarer plants that she wasn't familiar with led to longer discussions. Hermione was eager to learn about these plants, and I didn't mind explaining.

What began as a simple hike turned into a study session on some fascinating plants.

When we reached our destination, we both stood in awe. It was the first time for both of us to be here. I had only seen maps and read descriptions, and Hermione had never known about this place.

We stood on a small elevation overlooking a lake with an island in its center. On that island stood a single tree. The silence around was unbroken, creating a beautiful and serene atmosphere.

"Amazing," Hermione whispered, and I couldn't disagree with her. Describing what we saw was impossible. No book could capture such beauty.