A day at Hogwarts.

Chapter 646 All in Search
At the end of September, Hogwarts Castle was enveloped in a tense atmosphere that was almost like a powder keg about to explode.

The shadow of the monthly exam, like a dark cloud looming over a castle, weighed heavily on everyone's hearts.

For all the students, this was far more than just an ordinary test; it was a threshold to a brief period of freedom—the grades on their report cards would directly determine whether they could step into Hogsmeade Village, filled with the sweet aroma of Honeydukes, the hustle and bustle of Zonko's Joke Shop, and the warmth of the Three Broomsticks, on the weekend of the following month.

And so, the once vibrant castle fell into an unusual silence.

The library was packed, the only sounds in the air being the scratching of quills across parchment, the rustling of pages turning rapidly, and the suppressed murmurs of recitation.

The usually noisy common room had changed its appearance. Students were in groups of three or five, some frowning as they muttered incantations to their heavy spellbooks, trying to memorize the complex gestures and pronunciations; others were helping each other, nervously quizzing each other on potion recipes and transmutation techniques.

Even the most undisciplined students put away their playfulness and showed an unprecedented level of focus.

After all, at Hogwarts, there is no punishment more regrettable than watching your companions walk away in laughter and joy while you are confined within the castle walls.

Meanwhile, far to the southwest border of England, the scenery is quite different.

Near Godric Valley, a leaden sky hung low, and a continuous drizzle shrouded the hills in a gray curtain of water.

The country path turned into a muddy trap, each step sinking deep into it, making the journey difficult.

In this desolate and lonely place, only the filthy window of the "Leek Tavern" shines with a dim, yellowish light, like a solitary lighthouse in the vast night sea.

With a creak, the old wooden door of the bar was pushed open, letting in a damp wind carrying withered leaves and a chill.

Mundungus Fletcher scurried in like a startled mouse, hunching his shoulders and deftly patting the cold water droplets off his worn-out coat.

Those alert eyes quickly scanned the dimly lit room. He sniffed, smelling the sour odor of cheap beer, the pungent smell of old pipe tobacco, and the musty smell of damp wood.

A few guests were scattered in the corner, their figures indistinct, their whispers barely audible, and weak music playing from the speakers, as if afraid to break the sleep-inducing silence.

Fletcher's heartbeat did not calm down despite the warmth of the room; he was on a secret mission entrusted to him by Dumbledore.

Ever since Black and Longbottom made that groundbreaking conjecture—that Lily Potter might still be alive—Dumbledore initially remained outwardly calm, but inwardly his mind was in turmoil.

The truth behind Peter Pettigrew's "death" serves as a wake-up call, reminding him that everything in the world may hold immense potential.

After careful consideration, the task of delving into the gray areas and searching for clues fell on the shoulders of Fletcher, who was familiar with all sorts of people and had a keen sense of smell.

He focused his search on Godric's Hollow, the homeland of the Potter family and the place where Lily once lived.

Dumbledore speculated that if a miracle were to occur, Lily would most likely maintain some connection with this land that held those memories.

Fletcher composed himself and walked straight to the bar, intending to ask the gray-haired owner, who was wearing an apron, for clues.

However, just a few steps from the bar, his steps froze, and his blood seemed to freeze instantly.

On the bar stool in front of the bar, a familiar figure dressed in Muggle clothes, yet sending chills down his spine, came into view like a nightmare—Antonin Dolokhov!

Why is that infamous Death Eater here?

Has the news leaked?
Or is this just a terrible coincidence?

Countless dangerous thoughts exploded in his mind.

Fear gripped his heart, but years of street smarts allowed Fletcher to forcefully suppress his shock.

He subtly moved to a seat a few seats away from Dolokhov, turned sideways, and locked his gaze on Dolokhov out of the corner of his eye beneath the tattered brim of his hat, his ears perked up like a hunting dog. Dolokhov's voice was deep and steady, devoid of any emotion, as he spoke to the shopkeeper who was wiping glasses.

Fletcher held his breath, straining to catch fragments of words amidst the cacophony of background music in the bar: "Woman..."

"The boy's mother..."

"Fifteen years ago..."

The boss shook his head, a helpless apology on his face, and said, "Never heard of it, sir."

"But I'll keep an eye out for you."

Dolokhov's face remained expressionless; he merely nodded slightly, said a few words that he would come again, put down his wine glass, and rose to disappear into the drizzle outside the door. He never once caught a glimpse of Fletcher in the shadows.

Only after that suffocating figure had completely disappeared did Fletcher secretly exhale a breath of relief, but the doubts in his heart grew even heavier.

A Death Eater searching for a "mother" who has been missing for many years?
This is somewhat unusual. What are the identities of the child and the mother?

What conspiracy is hidden behind this?
He turned to the owner and ordered the cheapest Flame Whiskey. He took a sip, and the spicy liquid slid down his throat, bringing a touch of warmth.

He casually struck up a conversation, saying, "That person just now... seemed to be in a hurry too?"

The boss was a chatterbox. While wiping the cups, he exclaimed, "That's right! It's strange, everyone's coming to find women today."

"He's also looking for someone, saying he hasn't seen them for many years, and the clues are pitifully few. He only mentioned that he had a son about fifteen years ago."

"You...you wouldn't happen to be fellow private investigators, would you?"

He looked at Fletcher's unkempt appearance with curiosity.

Fletcher's heart sank, as if he had stepped into thin air.

He had a son fifteen years ago? Harry Potter is exactly fifteen years old this year!

Time has aligned perfectly!
A chill, even more biting than the autumn rain outside, instantly shot up his spine.

Are the Death Eaters also looking for Lily?

How did they find out?

Has the Phoenix Society's operation been exposed?

Or is there a mole within the organization?
He put on a smooth, worldly smile and replied vaguely, "Heh, more or less, the competition in this line of work is pretty fierce."

I quickly changed the subject, but my mind was in turmoil.

What was originally thought to be a secret search has now turned into a perilous and mysterious trap.

The Order of the Phoenix and the Death Eaters seemed to be guided by an invisible hand, silently approaching the same goal in the darkness.

He had to leave this dangerous place immediately and report this tremendous discovery to Dumbledore.

Every second of delay could bring unforeseen dangers.

(End of this chapter)