Ancient Wizards Return to Hogwarts...

Chapter 281 The Train That Was Stopped

Hufflepuff felt like his heart had stopped beating.

Having spent a summer in Diagon Alley, she had a fairly clear understanding of the prices in the modern magical world. Now, upon learning that the cup she sold for 200 Galleons had been resold for 3,000 Galleons, she felt like she couldn't breathe.

Compared to the outgoing Godric, the carefree Rowena, and the wealthy Salazar, Helga Hufflepuff was more frugal and hardworking, making it harder for her to accept the fact that she had been cheated by that merchant.

She was already calculating how long the money she had lost could have sustained Hogwarts.

After calculating his losses, Hufflepuff became even angrier: this money was enough to keep the school running normally for a month and a half!

Unlike later Hogwarts headmasters, the four founders were always frugal when it came to running the school. There was no other way; they had to start from scratch, and only they themselves could truly understand the hardships of starting a business.

"I'm going to find that guy and settle the score!" Hufflepuff didn't even bother eating her ice cream anymore; all she wanted to do was confront Borgin.

Although the unspoken rule in this industry is that once a transaction is completed, no further action is taken, Hufflepuff clearly cannot apply this rule.

"They only asked for three thousand!" Seeing his old friend about to break down, Rice quickly comforted him, "The Greengrass family ultimately didn't place an order."

"Oh, it wasn't sold..." Hufflepuff's emotions calmed down immediately after learning that the cup set hadn't sold: If it didn't sell, what difference did three thousand or three hundred make?

Of course there's a difference; it might sell for 300, but Hufflepuff could only console himself with this thought. What else could he do? Beating Borgin up wouldn't help.

Hufflepuff laughed and said, "I knew it! Who would spend three thousand Galleons on those three broken cups?"

Rice: ...

You know what, there might actually be some. Many pure-blood families have wealth that doesn't match their intelligence. And most importantly, those three cups aren't actually the problem...

"Looking at it from another angle, this is also why modern wizards admire us!" Rice tried to comfort Helga in various ways.

Helga remained silent for a moment, then made a decision discreetly.

Seeing that Hufflepuff's emotions had stabilized, Rice felt relieved and parted ways with her, while enjoying the ice cream she had bought for him.

The next day, Rice arrived at platform 9 of King's Cross Station on time.

The platform was packed with people as usual, and Rice noticed that Percy of the Weasleys was chatting with a pretty girl with long, curly hair. Percy was beaming, and the student council president badge on his chest was gleaming.

Rice raised an eyebrow: "A teenage boy wizard, that's certainly true."

Following the crowd onto the train, Rice struggled to find an empty compartment. Just as he settled his luggage, Daphne and Astoria appeared.

"Making ice cream at home took a little time—thankfully you found an empty compartment, otherwise you would have had to squeeze into a compartment with other people." Daphne placed a cool, steaming box on the train's small table.

"Oh?" Upon hearing that it was homemade ice cream, Rice immediately became interested.

"Pure milk, with just some sugar and raisins," Daphne proudly introduced her homemade ice cream to Rice.

Rice took a small bite and found it tasted pretty good.

At that moment, a commotion arose from the adjacent box; judging from the sound, it was Malfoy showing off to the others.

"Is this really a memento left behind by the founder?!"

"Of course, my dad spent over three thousand Galleons to buy it. Let me show you—"

"It really turned into wine!!!"

The expressions on everyone's faces in the private room turned somewhat strange: Mr. Bokin had finally sold them after all, and the asking price had even gone up a bit...

All I can say is that some people know how to do business.

However, what Rice didn't know was that Lucius Malfoy didn't pay all three thousand Galleons in cash; he took several collectibles from his home to offset part of the price.

Just as the train was about to depart, a Neville appeared at the compartment door, holding his toad.

"The seats outside are almost full, but yours here—"

"Come in, there's still room here." Rice moved over to make room for Neville.

The train started moving.

Rice casually struck up a conversation with Neville. During their chat, he learned that Neville's toad was named "Rive," and it was a gift from his uncle.

"Don't let its ugly appearance fool you, Leif is actually very well-behaved, it just tries to run away occasionally."

Rice smiled: That's normal. Because Neville's way of interacting with his toad is actually wrong. Orthodox wizards don't actually keep toads as pets; they use them for potion or spell experiments.

Toads can also be used as a medium for curses. After a series of incantations and rituals, the sorcerer will establish a mystical connection between the toad and the cursed person. At that point, the sorcerer can carry out the curse by simply naming the toad after the cursed person.

So, the fact that Rafer kept trying to escape from Neville was probably a warning from his spirit, right? After all, most toads don't survive in the hands of wizards.

However, seeing that Neville had no such plans, Rice didn't tell him the somewhat cruel truth. Instead, he gave him a bottle of the same potion as Scabbers, hoping it would keep his toad in line.

In the afternoon, it started raining outside. As the sun set, the rain intensified, and the lights in the corridor and on the luggage racks came on.

Looking at these lights, Rice recalled the awe he felt when he first stepped into Hogwarts as Rice.

I wonder what Helga is thinking right now? She's probably quite curious about all this, isn't she? No, she's seen airplanes before, so she probably won't be too impressed…

Rice's thoughts were wandering. When he turned his attention back to the carriage, he found that the train was slowing down and the view outside the window had turned as black as ink.

He squinted: Something's not right. The bus seems to have arrived earlier today than the previous times.

Rice raised his head, the strange feeling in his heart becoming more and more obvious.

Bang! The train suddenly jolted and came to a stop, followed by a series of loud thuds as luggage fell from the overhead racks, and then all the lights went out at once.

The carriage was suddenly plunged into darkness.

"What's wrong? Is the car broken?" Daphne's voice rang out beside her.

"No, that's not it." Rice casually conjured a few balls of flame, dispelling the darkness.

His expression shifted between light and shadow, illuminated by the eerie blue flames.

"The train has been stopped."

Sigrún has taught at the Iceland University of the Arts as a part-time lecturer since and was Dean of the Department of Fine Art from -. In – she held a research position at Reykjavík Art Museum focusing on the role of women in Icelandic art. She studied fine art at the Icelandic College of Arts and Crafts and at Pratt Institute, New York, and holds BA and MA degrees in art history and philosophy from the University of Iceland. Sigrún lives and works in Iceland.

Update: The next update will be tomorrow morning, noon, or evening.

(Finally, it's time for the holiday!)

(End of this chapter)