A day at Hogwarts.

Chapter 561 Everyone has their own plans
In a Geneva restaurant, warm yellow light fell on a red checkered tablecloth, and Jack folded his napkin and draped it over his knees.

The waiter brought the first dish: a light yellow broth from the wooden house, with freshly grated cheese that melted slightly upon contact with the hot soup, releasing a rich aroma.

Charles scooped up a spoonful, his tongue first encountering the smooth cream, followed by the texture of potato and macaroni, and then the refreshing spiciness of wild leeks and the warm aroma of nutmeg.

The St. Gallen sausages were still sizzling when they were served, their browned casings glistening with oil.

Charles made a light cut with his knife, and with a crisp "snap," the steaming meat filling, along with rosemary and garlic, burst out.

He dipped a bit in yellow mustard and put it in his mouth. The slight spiciness of the mustard was immediately followed by the sweetness of the granular honey. The two flavors collided on his tongue, making his eyes light up.

The waiter brought over a glass of dark beer, its amber liquid topped with a layer of fine foam.

The tomahawk steak, served last, was as long as a forearm. Thickly cut bone-in ribs were placed on a wooden platter. As the knife cut into the medium-rare meat, pale red juices slowly dripped down the bone, mingling with the aroma of red wine and juniper berries.

Charles cut a piece and put it on his grandfather's plate, then took one for himself. The meat was so tender that it barely needed chewing, and the aroma of the meat was infused with the fragrance of wine and the crispness of pine.

Once all the dishes were served, Jack cast a spell, and no one around them would notice them.

"What are your plans?" Jack asked, eating a sausage.

He was the only one who knew that Charles was in Geneva, and that his specific residence had been arranged by their foundation in Switzerland, which he had heard of before but had not noted down.

The British wizarding community is eerily quiet these days. Despite the numerous reports written by journalists like Rita Skeeter in the newspapers every day, they are all trivial matters such as the temporary kitchen of the Dancing Grass restaurant set up in the old Black family mansion, the latest cleanup of the crime scene, and the staff of Farbatton Castle going to the Caribbean to carry out new business. The wizards and goblins in charge remain silent.

They are waiting, waiting for Charles to return and lay out his plans before they can make a statement.

However, there was still no news from Charles, and neither the communication laptop nor the owl could reach him.

After swallowing his steak, Charles said, "Now the fairies are waiting for the other shoe to drop, so let's wait and see. I'll just keep disappearing until they make a public and official statement."

The fairies are now on the defensive. We've been working against them for years, and this opportunity is not to be missed.

As long as Charles's fate remains unknown, the wizards' hearts are constantly in suspense, and they lack the ability to think critically when faced with rumors related to fairies, making them easily swayed by them.

After taking a sip of wine, Jack said, "Fine, I'll continue to pretend I haven't heard from you, pretend to be calm during the day, and rummage through trash cans at night."

After a moment of silence, Charles said, "If you rummage through the trash for two days and then claim you have magic, Dumbledore will tearfully agree with you."

Jack pondered for a moment and said, "Do you think Harry might use Polyjuice Potion to transform into your likeness and cheer me up?"

Charles thought for a moment, then nodded and said, "They're capable of doing it."

Jack asked, "So you've been staying here the whole time?"

Charles pulled out a travel agency brochure and said, "I plan to go to the Alps to breathe some fresh air and at the same time study a few spells."

Seeing that he was prepared, Jack didn't say anything more and asked curiously, "What kind of spell are you planning to study?"

Charles replied seriously, "A spell that kills without leaving a trace."

Jack became even more curious.

Charles, eating his steak, said, "It's basically just high doses of X-rays and stuff."

Jack was speechless and could only say, "Don't mess things up."

After finishing their meal, the grandfather and grandson went about their own business.

While Charles was enjoying the fresh air of the Alps, he never expected the old man to cause trouble.

The streetlights cast a dim, yellowish glow on Privet Avenue, stretching and shortening Jack's shadow as it moved across the empty street. He walked slowly, his eyes scanning every trash can along the roadside, glancing at it as he passed.

At 4 Privet Drive, Vernon and Penny were filled with worry.

The neighbors all know that Charles was picked up by Jack from the trash can. Now Jack is going to rummage through the trash can every night for no reason. Has something happened to Charles?

When someone asked Jack, he just forced a smile and said "nothing," but everyone could tell he was up to something.

The Dursleys are currently working for the Smiths; if something happens to them, they will lose their jobs.

The next morning, an owl flew to Hogwarts and landed in front of Harry.

Hermione immediately asked, "Did Charles send it?"

Harry took the letter and said disappointedly, "It's from Petunia."

He opened the letter, didn't understand it the first time, read it again, and immediately rushed up to the professor's chair to find the principal.

Dumbledore sat in his office, his brow furrowed.

Professor McGonagall sat opposite her, holding the letter Penny had written: Late at night, she saw Jack wandering the streets rummaging through trash cans, and someone heard him calling out his grandson's name in a daze.

They had been keeping the news of Charles's attack and disappearance from Jack's life, and had even informed Harry and Dobby. But a couple of days ago, Rita Skeeter went to interview Jack and told him everything that had happened that night.

“This can’t go on, Albus.” McGonagall’s voice was weary and concerned. “He acts like nothing’s wrong during the day, but at night… if this continues, his body and mind will break down.”

Dumbledore sighed deeply; even he himself was struggling to keep up, let alone Jack.

The International Federation of Wizards is now demanding the establishment of a special committee to thoroughly investigate this matter. If someone else were in charge, that would be one thing, but the problem is that Grindelwald has somehow managed to get several countries to nominate him to be in charge.

Some even think that Grindelwald has had enough of the punishment after serving so many years in prison and should be released to lead the work against fairies.

Ordinary people talk about right and wrong, while politicians only talk about interests.

Many countries' ministries of magic envy Gringotts in Moscow because they actually capture disobedient goblins to grow potatoes; Grindelwald has even secretly investigated this.

Now there is an opportunity; as long as Britain takes the lead, it will be the first domino to fall.

Dumbledore had read Grindelwald's books and understood what he was going to do. Sending him to investigate the goblins was the same as having Hermione and himself guard the dessert storehouse.

This special committee is currently being suppressed by Dumbledore, but he won't be able to suppress it for long.

“Minerva,” Dumbledore said wearily, “I would like to trouble you to go and talk to Jack. He said that Charles is just hiding and was probably taken away by Ruby.”

"Please don't worry, Jack, Charles will be fine."

The only hope that Charles is still alive is that the ruby ​​is missing, so everyone believes that he was taken away by the phoenix.

McGonagall said, "I went to 3 Privet Drive during my lunch break today."

After finishing her classes in the morning, she felt no appetite on her way to the cafeteria, so she went to the Three Brooms Bar and arrived at No. 3 Privet Road via the Flying Network.

As soon as McGonagall opened the sturdy door to the fireplace, she found Jack carrying luggage with Grindelwald standing beside him. The two then Apparated away.

There was another person in the living room. Rita Skeeter had just put her interview notebook into her handbag, smiled politely at McGonagall, and then left.

This gave Dumbledore an even bigger headache.

(End of this chapter)