Chapter 1230: Clumsy Youth

Countless chaotic lights and shadows flashed before Amosta's eyes, making him dizzy, and only a moment later, his feet touched the solid ground.

The powerful mental force suppressed the dizziness caused by the Apparition, and the discomfort of appearing across the long distance was eliminated in the blink of an eye.

Turning his head to look at Dumbledore beside him, Amosita couldn't help but feel a little surprised.

Dumbledore, who is over a hundred years old, looks normal and does not seem to be burdened.

The cool air rushing into his nostrils lifted Amosta's spirits. He let his eyes wander across the vast sky and earth. In the sky, a dim moon hung in the sky of the first night.

"I'm afraid we need to go a few more steps--"

Dumbledore seemed to be in a good mood. He let out a long sigh, smiled and took the first step.

The rich moisture in the air soaked the soil under your feet, and every step you took left clear footprints on the earth.

Amosta followed Dumbledore up a few steps and walked around a cluster of tall bushes. His vision suddenly became clearer.

They were on the ridgeline of a gently sloping hillside, and the wide view allowed Amosta to take in the entire nearby scenery.

The direction in which the moon rose, the mansion located on the ridge of a mountain range parallel to the one beneath their feet left Amosita speechless.

"Little Hangleton?"

Amosta squinted his eyes and looked at the old house from a distance, with a hint of surprise in his tone.

"Yes, the house belongs to old Tom Riddle. Have you been here, Amosta?"

Dumbledore was also looking at the house. He pressed down his silver beard that was blocking his vision and asked in a low voice, but he did not seem surprised -
"Before last year's World Cup --"

Amosta said,
"I was tracking down Cliona in the forests of Albania, and following some clues, I came here--"

Amosta retracted his gaze and looked at Dumbledore.
"I have been in that house."

"Yeah, I don't think Tom would want his precious Horcrux to sleep in a Muggle house, especially when that house belongs to his father whom he is not ashamed to mention -"

Dumbledore smiled and said that he understood Amosta's hint.
"But I don't plan to visit Tom's biological father's house tonight."

Amosta blinked, then he seemed more interested as he understood.

"It is certainly worth a look, Headmaster Dumbledore."

The two people headed towards their destination.

The two people walked quickly along the country road with tall, tangled hedges on both sides, not wanting to be blown by the cold wind on the top of the mountain.

After passing an old wooden board with thorns sticking out of it to indicate the direction, Dumbledore and Amosta began to go downhill along an inconspicuous path.

It was the first night and it was far from time to rest.

The lights in every household in the village of Little Hangleton at the foot of the mountain formed a dense spider web, and faint voices could be heard in the air.

"I once treated several villagers to drinks at the only bar in the village—"

Amosta said enthusiastically,

"They still remember the murder that happened at Riddle House half a century ago."

Dumbledore's laughter sounded somewhat sad.
"For the residents of a remote village, there aren't many things worth remembering. Well, I think we should go this way--"

Dumbledore led Amosta along an inconspicuous mountain road down the mountain.

Compared with the repaired downhill road, this bumpy and winding mountain road is more difficult to walk on, and the bushes and hedges on both sides of the road have become taller and denser.

The air was not only cold but also a bit eerie. Amos looked up and the moon hanging in the sky disappeared. Only a few orange and yellow stripes could be seen in the gaps between the dense branches. Both of them walked more carefully. Amos had to take out his wand to clear the wild branches that were lying across their path.

"It seems like no one has been here for years."

Amosta said, and Dumbledore nodded.

"This is great news for us."

After passing a '<'-shaped bend, the path down the mountain suddenly became steeper. Under the influence of gravity, Dumbledore and Amosta both jogged. Fortunately, the sharp bushes on both sides of the road disappeared.

"I think we're almost there—"

Dumbledore took a breath and looked at the grove of trees bordering the dirt road below.

"Let us hope we have better luck than Mr. Weasley. Poor Mr. Weasley, he wanted to borrow the bottle of good luck-enhancing Potion from Miss Granger to help him pass the Gryffindor Quidditch team's test -"

Amosta glanced at Dumbledore and shook his head slightly.

"Potion Felix can't help us, Headmaster Dumbledore."

After entering the dark and treacherous woods and moving forward for a few minutes amidst the faint roars of beasts, the old house of the Gaunt family appeared in front of them.

The moss-covered walls still exist, tenaciously supporting the main body of the old house. They are covered with plants, and the tiles on the roof have almost fallen off, with the rafters inside exposed here and there.

Thick, scraggly nettles grew about the house, reaching all the way to the door; the windows were very small and thick with old dirt.

Some rustling sounds came from the dark window. Obviously, there was more than one kind of creature parasitizing this house that was about to be completely destroyed.

"Ho-"

Amosta stood in front of the nettle field and looked at the house, his breath leaving white marks in the air.
"In a sense, it's a perfect place to hide things. Even the naughty kids down the mountain won't try to break into this house that's on the verge of collapse."

Staring at the dilapidated old house located in the darkness, the purple vortex in Amostas' eyes slowly turned, which made him bathe in a terrifying mysterious atmosphere.

A penetrating gaze penetrated the dilapidated old house. Amosta's sight was fixed in one direction. The tight lines of his lips relaxed a little, and a smile appeared at the corners of his mouth.

"It seems that we are luckier than Mr. Weasley. Headmaster Dumbledore and Mr. Riddle used some magic. To be honest, it was a bit clumsy--"

"Yes."

Dumbledore said.

Amosta waited for a few seconds, but did not hear Dumbledore express any more constructive opinions. He looked at Dumbledore beside him with a little surprise, his eyes slightly focused.

Dumbledore also stared in the direction he had just stared at, and apparently also discovered the abnormal flow of magic there.

However, there was no joy and relief on that old face that Amosta thought would appear.

Indeed, one can see hope in Dumbledore's dark eyes, but at the same time, other emotions also linger in Dumbledore's blue eyes. It seems to be fear.
"What's the matter, Headmaster Dumbledore?"

Amosta's eyelids twitched slightly, and he felt a little alert.

"Oh, nothing, just recalling an old memory, Amosta--"

Dumbledore woke up from his trance, straightened his expression, and breathed a sigh of relief.

"Bad magic, yes, you're right, but that's not surprising.

I think it was because when Tom was hiding things in this old house, he was not as proficient in the dark arts as he later became." (End of this chapter)