The door creaked shut again.

The broken lock housing restored itself as if time were flowing backward, emitting a click as the bolt engaged.

If other "guests" were hiding in the house, they clearly couldn't slip out of the door silently.

As for uninvited guests possibly revisiting from outside?

Aline actually hoped they would notice the anomaly, saving her the trouble of searching for them.

Immediately afterward, the curtains around the living room lowered one by one, blocking any possible prying eyes from the outside.

Aline put away her wand and walked to the extinguished fireplace on the right side of the living room, raising her palm.

"kenza (Flame)——"

Crackle... Boom!

A small flame suddenly burst open, instantly igniting the fireplace.

The soft orange light quickly dispelled the dimness and coldness in the living room.

Unlike the immature novice witch of a few months ago, after being taught by Dumbledore, Grindelwald, and other top wizards, Aline may not yet be able to integrate magic into her words and deeds as easily as moving her limbs, but with clear logic, she is not much worse than top wizards.

"Try not to step on those mud prints, and don't put down the shotgun!"

Aline turned her head to look at the "Great Arcana Council" research department director, who was still holding the Remington m870, and tilted her head slightly towards the wooden staircase at the end of the living room and the slightly open kitchen door. "If there's any movement there, shoot directly. Bullets are faster than many spells."

"No problem——"

Arsipovna nodded with a murderous look, bypassed the mud prints at the door, and looked up at Aline.

"Did you find anything—careful, someone's behind you!"

"Calm down, calm down. I know."

Aline said quickly, shrugging indifferently, "He's not a threat for now——"

She had seen him when she opened the door; a dark figure was slumped in an armchair on one side of the living room.

As the fireplace lit up, they could finally see the figure clearly. Arsipovna frowned deeply, her eyes quickly sweeping over the armchair, a hint of disappointment and relief flashing in her eyes. This person was not Gilderoy Lockhart.

The person slumped in the armchair had messy, grayish-white hair like a bird's nest. His aged face and wrinkled, spotted hands all spoke of the erosive traces that time had left on him.

The old man had an ugly large tumor on his chin, and a centipede-like scar stretched from his lip all the way behind his right ear. His loose brown pants were paired with a shit-green robe, like an evil wizard from a fairy tale.

His wand lay on the carpet under the armchair, as if he had once tried to use it to fight back.

Judging from the white scratches under the chair, this old man was probably pushed back several meters, chair and all, by some great force.

Arsipovna cautiously looked at the surrounding environment, breathed a sigh of relief, and took the initiative to speak.

"Who is he? Is he—dead?"

"I don't think so," Aline glanced at the old man's slightly rising and falling chest. "He's probably just unconscious."

She bent down and picked up the old wizard's dropped wand, then pressed her right hand towards the old man's chest.

"wyrd (Heal)——"

A soft, glowing white light bloomed.

The eyelids of the shabby-looking old wizard with no taste in clothes trembled a few times. Just as Aline was thinking about whether to "add another sip of milk," the old man suddenly took a breath of cold air, let out an eerie cough, and suddenly opened his eyes.

"...You bastard! Damn it! I'll definitely kill you!"

The old man jumped up from the chair with a狰狞expression, his dry, claw-like right hand waving in the air.

But the next moment, his movements and expression stopped as quickly as if they had been petrified.

Not far in front of him, a little witch was holding his wand in one hand and pointing it at him with the other.

And behind that seemingly dangerous little one, a strange woman was holding a metal stick with both hands, pointing it at him.

As a wizard living in a Muggle town, the old wizard certainly understood what this was—the Muggle world's death curse launcher: firearms. However, compared to the models he had seen in the hands of other Muggles, the gun in the strange woman's hand was clearly larger and more dangerous.

"Who are you? Why are you in my house? What... what are you here for?"

The old wizard's pupils shrank, his eyes darting between the dark muzzle and the wand in Aline's hand, and he raised his hands.

"What did he say?" Aline turned her head and looked at Arsipovna helplessly.

Except for the first few roars, she didn't understand a single word of the long string of rolled "r"s the old wizard said afterward.

Fortunately, unlike the frustrating language barriers in the non-magical world, thanks to the Age of Exploration centuries ago, almost every magical world with a mature education system uses English as a second language. After all, the main magical textbooks and spell pronunciations are mostly in English.

Before Arsipovna could finish translating, the old wizard immediately asked again in English after hearing Aline's accent.

"Who are you? Why are you in my house? Foreigners?!"

"Before asking for someone's name, shouldn't you introduce yourself first?"

Aline leaned back and sat on the living room table, a magical glow flashed in her hand.

"Especially...when facing the healer who woke you up."

"Healer? You're a—wait—are you really a healer?"

The old wizard's eyebrows twitched, and his mocking words didn't have time to come out before his expression suddenly straightened.

The little girl, who looked no more than eleven or twelve years old, took out a badge and pinned it on her left chest:

A special mark of a bone and a wand crossed, with three bronze stars imprinted below.

In the magical world, this mark is even more famous than the badges of most magical governments and magical schools—the healer's badge. The way to obtain this badge is very simple: be a full-time healer in one of the thirteen magical hospitals in the magical world today.

Judging from the style of this badge, she is only one step away from becoming an intermediate healer.

As for the possibility of counterfeiting or impersonating others, it is almost zero, because the healer's badge does not enjoy any privileges. It only represents responsibility.

The old wizard's originally aloof expression softened slightly, replaced by deep confusion and curiosity.

"Aghasyan, you can call me Hash," he said. "This is my own house, damn it. At least I thought so for the past few decades, but today is obviously special—including you two, there seem to be more people coming here today than ever before?"

"So," Old Hash frowned, looking at the two women, one big and one small, in the room. "Who are you?"

"Arsipovna, this is my daughter, Heil—she and her father are both wizards."

Arsipovna replied in fluent Russian.

The Remington m870 in her hand continued to point at the old wizard sitting in the chair.

After a few seconds of pause, she switched to a fluent London accent and asked the old man with a serious expression.

"What exactly happened to you? Where is Lockhart now?"

"Lockhart? You mean Gilderoy Lockhart?"

Old Hash twitched the corner of his mouth, his eyes swept over the woman exuding mature feminine charm, and then looked at the cute little witch.

That bastard who made people want to cast curses actually had such a wife and daughter. The world is really unfair—and what made him the most angry was that the guy had severely tricked him one last time when he left.

"Damn it, that guy is just an irresponsible jerk——"

The old wizard's expression turned cold, and he reached out to Aline. "Alright, if you want your father back, you better give me my wand back right now and notify the Ministry of Magic to send more Aurors—forget it, those corrupt bureaucrats can't be relied on at all..."

"Werewolves, and more than one, right?"

Aline asked softly, casually placing the wand on the table and rolling it towards the old man.

"So what do you plan to do? Subdue them like in the books? That's going to be hard, isn't it?"

Aghasyan's expression suddenly froze, and he didn't even pick up his wand immediately.

"Werewolves?" Old Hash grabbed the wand as it was about to fall, held it tightly in his hand, and stared at Aline sternly. "Who told you it was werewolves? Did that Lockhart kid say something? How do you know I did—I mean, I was the one who—huh?"

"Lockhart told us his purpose for coming here before he came here," Arsipovna said.

"Oh, so you found out he didn't come back and came looking for him?"

Aghasyan said, still looking at the two with suspicion, muttering vaguely.

"That guy is also a celebrity, I haven't heard in the newspapers that he's married and had children—and—the child is so old?"

"Mr. Gilderoy Lockhart is a celebrity. It's hard to be a celebrity in the magical world."

Aline shrugged, showing a hint of dissatisfaction at the right time, imitating Lockhart's tone of voice.

"If everyone knew that he was married and had children, then his books wouldn't sell so well. Humph, I hate it when he says that—always unfulfilled promises, it's been like this for so many years..."

"Heil, this is inevitable, after all..." Arsipovna stroked Aline's long hair.

"I know, I know—teen idol, single image—I'm not a three-year-old child anymore! Now it's good, he's gone!"

Aline shook her head impatiently, shouting shrilly, and turned to look at the Armenian old wizard.

"That big liar said he wanted to atone, he wanted to double the honor and benefits of the book 'Wandering with Werewolves' to compensate you, saying he would go home to be with us after he finished his atonement—but he didn't come home today. The magic clock at home also said he was in danger. Can you tell us what happened? Please. Even if we don't have the strength to save him, at least let us know what happened..."

Aline's voice gradually became lower, turning into a heart-wrenching murmur.

"Right? If you and that big liar can't escape, then you can't save him even if you go now, right..."

In Gilderoy Lockhart's personal confession, he recorded his views on various "victims" in detail.

As for the description of the real prototype of "Wandering with Werewolves", in addition to "ugly and old, and no taste in dressing", there is also a particularly important note: stubborn, extremely stubborn, and a reclusive old wizard with a certain tendency to violence.

Aghasyan stared at Aline and Arsipovna in silence, wanting to say something but stopping.

Aline looked back at him, her lake-blue eyes full of directness and determination.

"Oh well, okay." Old Hash said helplessly.

He sighed heavily, and casually threw the wand in his hand aside.

The old man's originally aggressive appearance quickly dissipated like a deflated balloon. He slumped back into his armchair, picked up his now-cold cup of tea, took a sip, and sighed again, looking at the door not far away.

"That's right, the story in 'Wandering with Werewolves' is my real experience. That bastard stole it from me a few years ago——"

"I have to admit, that bastard's memory charm is really powerful—if he hadn't taken the initiative to return the memory, I might not have remembered the previous things until I entered the grave. Honestly, I almost couldn't help but kill him directly, but..."

The old wizard shook his head. "If Gilderoy Lockhart, such a brave bastard, died like this, it would be too regrettable. So after he published it in the newspaper, I forgave him after casting a few curses on him—of course, he thought I was going to kill him at the time."

"Heh," the old wizard grinned and chuckled. A complicated expression flashed across his wrinkled, ugly old face. "If he had been smart enough to mention you two, he might not have suffered even a flesh wound. I don't know if he's really stupid or just temporarily confused."

Hmm... maybe it's just because he's a coward.

Arsipovna muttered quietly and frowned at the old wizard.

"So, what happened later? What about the werewolves? It sounds like he should have gone home long ago."

"Werewolves also read newspapers, child."

Aghasyan's expression darkened, and he took a light breath.

"You know, the werewolves have been looking for Gilderoy Lockhart... or rather, looking for me, for a long time——"

————

————

Yay!