“Huh, has it already gotten this late without me realizing?”

Outside Piskaryovskoye Memorial Cemetery, Newt looked up at the gradually darkening sky.

Moscow was still some distance from St. Petersburg. To avoid revealing his identity in front of Ivanov, Newt ultimately chose to travel there with the old man by train, rather than resorting to a method more befitting a "wizard."

In fact, in hindsight, this turned out to be an extremely fortunate and undeniably correct decision.

After all, strictly speaking, Ivanovich was ultimately a criminal convicted by the Wizarding Court for "violating the Statute of Secrecy." As a top-tier wizard renowned in the magical world, Newt's flamboyance would inevitably raise suspicion.

"I apologize, Mr. Ivanov, but I have some matters to attend to. Perhaps we should call it a day... How about we meet here again at nine o'clock tomorrow morning? Of course, I will cover your accommodation expenses..."

Newt took out his pocket watch and glanced at it, then pointed to the "Motherland" statue at the entrance of the cemetery.

As he spoke, Newt took out a small stack of banknotes from his wallet, preparing to hand it to Ivanov.

Since the collapse of the Soviet Union, the ensuing economic depression had severely impacted every sector of Russia, and even the entire European continent. The once bustling Piskaryovskoye Memorial Cemetery had become one of the most desolate places.

Few foreign tourists came here to pay their respects, as St. Petersburg had many more interesting and historically significant attractions.

And the residents of this city almost never visited, as the heavy pressures of life had long prevented them from reminiscing about the past. Simply maintaining basic sustenance was already an extremely difficult task.

Therefore, Piskaryovskoye Memorial Cemetery had ironically become the most secluded and safest corner of St. Petersburg at this time.

"Mr. Scamander, this... Well, thank you."

Ivanov was about to refuse instinctively, but he stopped halfway through his sentence. After hesitating for a few seconds, he gritted his teeth and reluctantly took the stack of banknotes from Newt Scamander, smiling somewhat awkwardly.

"I have no more medals left to sell, but I will definitely find another batch for you tomorrow, and the guiding fee for the next week will be included as well. As long as it's within Russia, even in cities I'm not so familiar with, I will definitely help you find reliable local guides—"

Ivanov had already given all the medals he had to Newt earlier in the cemetery.

Although, theoretically, if he had sold them separately, Ivanov might have been able to get a higher price from other tourists, but in the old man's opinion, these medals could only become medals, not decorations, in the hands of specific people.

After all, several tens of pounds was a considerable income for Ivanov in his current situation.

"By the way, Mr. Scamander, if you don't mind, I'd like to ask an extra question..."

After hesitating for a few seconds, the old man lowered his eyes slightly, looking at the collar of Newt's coat instead of meeting his gaze. He murmured hesitantly, carefully, as if whispering to himself.

"Your friend, how many medals is he planning to acquire?"

"How many medals?" Scamander frowned, looking at Ivanov with some confusion.

"Well... it's like this..."

Ivanov's once straight back seemed to bend a little more. He stammered evasively, his gaze wandering as he explained.

"I have many comrades-in-arms, and they have many different kinds of medals. I mean, if your friend has plenty of funds, I can actually ask them to collect more... Of course, not too many, I know that collecting just one of the same kind of medal is enough. But just in case, just in case... you have a lot of friends..."

"Funds? My friend..."

Newt was slightly stunned, and a scene flashed through his mind of a certain white-haired little loli being surrounded by a group of Gringotts goblins slightly shorter than her, surrounded by galleons. After thinking for a moment, he replied with certainty.

"Don't worry! Mr. Ivanov, besides, all my money is with her. If it's her, there will definitely be no problem."

"Her?"

Ivanov glanced at Newt, then shook his head with a self-deprecating smile.

Hey, these lucky and pitiful English gentlemen.

Compared to them, although he was living a little bit in poverty, at least he didn’t have to face a terrifying mother bear when he went home.

Of course, if Natasha hadn’t…

Ivanov’s eyes glazed over slightly, and then he quickly shook his head and came back to his senses.

Now was not the time to be sentimental and reminisce about the past. He had more important things to do later.

Ivanov carefully folded the stack of pounds in his hand and placed them in the pocket of his clothes lining, patting them several times with a serious expression, just like he treated the bullets he carried with him in the past. Then he let out a soft sigh.

"Thank you very much, Mr. Scamander. Tomorrow at eight thirty, I will be here waiting for you on time."

After pausing for a moment, Ivanov looked around at the dim yellow streetlights that were gradually lighting up, then turned to look at Newt Scamander, who was thinking about something, with an embarrassed smile on his face.

"I'm really sorry, sir. Next, I guess I have to hurry to visit some old friends' houses. If there is nothing else you need me for, then I'll take my leave."

"Hmm? It's okay, me too... I also... have some things I want to ask about."

Newt Scamander took a deep breath, subconsciously clutching the parchment in his hand with Ivanovich's current address recorded on it—this was information he had painstakingly obtained with the help of his friends in the Ministry of Magic.

The two old men, each with their own thoughts, nodded absentmindedly to each other and separated under the streetlights.

"Then, see you tomorrow, Mr. Scamander."

"See you tomorrow, Mr. Ivanov."

…………

The air in St. Petersburg at night was fresh and crisp.

"Hey, old friend, I've brought back good news today! Didn't expect that, did you?"

Ivanov raised his head, his gaze passing over the dilapidated fence and landing on the upper floors of a distant building.

It was an apartment building for soldiers stationed at a nearby military base.

This five-story building used to be full of soldiers and their families. But since the collapse of the Soviet Union, they were officially disbanded and hastily transferred to other parts of this vast country. In just a few months, the building was emptied, with only a few people who couldn't find a home still living there.

At this moment, the entire apartment building was immersed in a dying darkness, with only a few windows emitting dim yellow light, as if stubbornly telling those around that there were still people living here.

Ivanov skillfully found the collapsed part of the fence and stepped over it. Although it was just stepping over a threshold less than knee-high, he felt it was very strenuous—just like crawling through enemy barbed wire on the battlefield forty years ago.

He entered through the front door of the apartment and, by the faint moonlight, came to a door on the third floor. He was about to knock when a hoarse female voice came from inside the room: "Ivanov, is that you?"

Ivanov pushed the door open and walked in.

The only light in the room came from an old kerosene lamp. In the dim yellow light, Ivanov saw old photo frames hanging on the wall, chipped plates, rusty radiator racks, and the hostess standing at the table, fumbling to pour water for Ivanov.

Her name was Sonya. She was the wife of Ivanov's old comrade-in-arms, Yuri Zhirkov.

Ivanov's old comrade Yuri participated in the Great Patriotic War and the large and small wars that followed.

The harsh winter of Stalingrad decades ago failed to kill him, the large-scale troop reduction during the Khrushchev era did not crush him, and even poverty, disability, and illness failed to subdue him.

But last year, when the news of the collapse of the Soviet Union spread throughout the country through the radio.

Yuri Zhirkov, shocked by the bad news, fell into the ditch on the side of the road and never woke up again.

1991 was an insurmountable obstacle for many people.

The history of this country was cut off abruptly, like a piece of sausage cut in half.

After Yuri Zhirkov's death, the lives of his wife and children became a problem. Fortunately, Ivanov and several other comrades often helped them out. But later, life became more and more difficult, and the other comrades gradually lost their livelihoods.

In the end, Ivanov, who was barely a low-ranking non-commissioned officer, was considered to be in a relatively good situation—his Natasha had not been able to stay with him until the end of the war. In that era, love was too much of a luxury.

Because of this, Ivanov, who had no family and nothing to worry about, naturally had much less pressure to survive.

"By the way, where's little Zhirkov? I haven't seen him."

Ivanov asked as he took the cup Sonya handed him.

"Oh, he's out working." Sonya sat down opposite Ivanov with difficulty, supporting herself on the table. Her face was haggard, but her voice unconsciously rose. Parents were always proud when talking about their children:

"He works as a stevedore at the train station, fifteen kilometers from here, and needs to work the night shift... It's not easy to find a stable job now, but fortunately Vakili is very strong... just like his father."

Yes, what a great lad, strong and resilient. Ivanov saw the shadow of his comrade's youth in him.

But times have changed. The difficulties of the situation have rendered individual efforts futile.

In this country with economic, political, and livelihood chaos, even a good boy like little Zhirkov, who goes out early and returns late, and works hard, is only barely maintaining the minimum sustenance line for himself and his mother in the current world.

Ivanov took a sip of the water in the cup with a lot of emotion, and unconsciously frowned.

It was icy cold and had a slightly sour taste... which reminded him of the terrible days when he hid in trenches and ruins decades ago.

Immediately, he realized that this cup of water was painstakingly collected by Sonya using a rain collector.

Since this apartment had been abandoned, all the water and electricity had been cut off. People living here wanted light, so they could only buy the cheapest kerosene with the most smoke to make lamps; if they wanted drinking water, they could only collect rainwater; as for wanting to turn on the heating in winter, that was a pipe dream. Being in such an environment for a long time would ruin a person's body.

In fact, Ivanov had already noticed that Sonya's physical condition was worse than the last time he came. The scene of Sonya groping for the cup in the dim light reminded Ivanov of a disease—nyctalopia.

Ivanov didn't know the specific cause of nyctalopia, but he remembered that it seemed to be related to malnutrition.

Thinking of this, the figure of the English veteran appeared in Ivanov's mind.

Newt's appearance even made Ivanov have the idea that perhaps the brothers who sacrificed in the Great Patriotic War and even the small and big wars that followed were the lucky ones. They died with ideals, and at least in people's eyes, they were real heroes, while the other veterans who were still alive would only be regarded as a burden.

Oh, right, the English veteran named Newt Scamander.

Ivanov finally remembered the purpose of his trip. He took his hand out of his pocket and placed several pounds that had been unfolded smoothly in front of Sonya. Then he placed a Soviet Second Class Order of the Patriotic War next to the pounds.

Sonya didn't look down at the things on the table, but touched the two things on the table in turn. When her hand touched the sharp surface of the Second Class Order of the Patriotic War, a look of doubt appeared on her face.

The last time they met, Sonya had personally handed this medal to Ivanov, asking him to sell it for a good price.

But now Ivanov returned the medal to herself, so where did the money come from?

Soon, she figured out the origin of the matter: "Ivanov, you sold your own medal, didn't you?"

"Haha, you have to know that my medal is much more valuable than yours. Mine is a First Class Order of the Patriotic War, and your husband's is Second Class."

"That's not the problem. No, I can't accept this money. You should help me sell my husband's medal."

Sonya pushed the medal and the pounds back together.

"No, Sonya, you have to keep it. This is Yuri's heroic proof of destroying a Tiger tank alone. You should leave it to Vakili, or give it to Vakili's child when he is born, instead of trying to sell it."

The moment he said these words, Ivanov regretted it a bit—

Yes, the Soviet Union has collapsed. In this new world of market economy, everything is priced. The glory and sacrifice of a combat hero's life can be packaged and taken away—and usually in dollars, and the price is not expensive.

Buyers only care whether there is a legendary story behind the medal, because this will be excellent conversation material at their tea parties. And the sacrifices and costs paid for this medal are considered unimportant.

A wife of a Second Class Order of the Patriotic War recipient, if she wasn't really desperate, how could she have thought of selling it?

But on the other hand, Ivanov didn't do this on a whim.

The youngest generation of Russians find it difficult to understand Ivanov and Ivanovich's generation. This is not because they received the influence of capitalism or communism, nor is it because of their age gap.

Even if ordinary people of the younger generation reach Ivanov's age, the things they pursue will be very ordinary.

Soup, vodka, a warm home, a kind wife and healthy children.

—But what Ivanov and others want is a strong motherland.

Has the Soviet Union collapsed?

This seems to be an undoubted question. But in Ivanov's view, it is not the case. He has always believed that the motherland has not fallen, she is just... too tired. She just needs to rest.

One day she will stand up again, yes, she definitely will!

When that day comes, what should be used to tell the younger generation what their fathers were like?

Is the right to speak to be handed over to the capitalists?

Then they will say that in Chernobyl, we were forced to go in under the guns of the commissars; they will say that the Americans replaced the flag on the Reichstag in Berlin; they will even say that the Soviet Union provoked World War II.

People are easy to grow old, and even great countries cannot last forever.

But the medal is not easy to change. Every edge and corner contains courage and honor. In the hands of capitalists, its value is only a small amount of dollars, but in the hearts of the Soviet... or rather the former Soviet people, it is priceless. At least it can tell the younger generation what their fathers, or even more distant ancestors, were like—

They were eagles soaring in the sky over Ukraine;

They were ghosts lurking in the ruins of Leningrad;

They were death gods rushing out of the fire sea of ​​Stalingrad;

They were giant bears charging on the hills of Kursk;

They were the unwavering backs of Pripyat;

They……

—Absolutely not a burden to this country!

"Sonya, keep it. And some money, you need it more than I do."

"But, your medal..."

"Ha, I don't need those things, I don't have any children."

While saying this, Ivanov tried to make himself look more relaxed.

Sonya thought for a while before nodding with guilt: "Thank you, Ivanov, thank you."

Only then did Ivanov really feel at ease.

He knew that many diseases seemed very serious, but in reality, only a few nutritious meals, or a period of normal rest, could quickly restore the body. The money Ivanov gave Sonya was not a huge sum, but it could help her get through the next period of time, such as buying some meat or finding a doctor...

In short, at least Ivanov wouldn't have to worry about her for a while in the future.

After sitting for a while, Ivanov got up and said goodbye.

Newt Scamander had given him a total of eighty-five pounds, which was not a small amount.

Ivanov divided the money into many portions, preparing to help more old comrades.

The places where these people lived were not close to each other. If Ivanov still wanted to go to the old place to meet Scamander on time tomorrow morning, then he might have to hurry up, and... he also needed to help Newt collect some more medals.

Leaving the apartment, Ivanov saw some colorful graffiti on the wall of the corridor in the dimly lit light. The graffiti was not in Russian letters, but in English, colorful, which made Ivanov very irritable.

The graffiti looked like the work of young people. After 1991, the history of this country seemed to have been cut in two.

The first half seemed to be full of dictatorship and tyranny, while the second half was full of light and hope. In this context, some young people took destructive actions as if swearing their determination, as if this could erase the reality that they were born in this country.

Ivanov raised his chin contemptuously, walking forward with his head held high as if not wanting to lose his momentum in front of these graffiti from the Western world—compared to those pampered British, French, and Americans, the Soviet Army was always the first.

Slowly, Ivanov, with a large sum of pounds in his pocket, felt as if he had returned to forty years ago.

They kept their nerves tense and fired in all directions.

Tanks, infantry, flares, and artillery were defeated by them. Then they crowded forward with the next charge.

He strode forward, his stiff spine seemed to slowly relax, and the years seemed to have returned the youth taken from him, and at the same time, the beliefs that had been worn away by time also returned to his body.

Ivanov walked forward step by step, imagining himself wearing a Soviet military uniform again and walking on Red Square. In fact, he was walking in a world submerged in colorful graffiti.

He took a firm step, one step, another step...

Until the lonely figure disappeared at the end of the mottled corridor.

…………

Meanwhile, on the other side.

As a wizarding family, Novart Ivanovich's family was not easy to find.

With Ivanov's help, Newt had tried to inquire about Ivanovich's address in non-magical government departments.

But at this point in time, Russia was rebuilding its government, and the efficiency of various departments was shockingly low - both in the non-magical and magical worlds. Everyone's energy was invested in dividing up the remaining bear meat feast.

Fortunately, Newt still had a few reliable acquaintances in the former Soviet Ministry of Magic.

Moreover, for some reason, Novart Ivanovich himself was considered a "celebrity" in this land.

Apart from being reminded to act cautiously, news about the Ivanovich family was quickly obtained.

Even more fortunate, Novart Ivanovich's children and grandchildren were still living in St. Petersburg, which saved Newt Scamander the trouble of running back and forth.

After separating from the former Soviet soldier, Newt followed the road signs and went to Ivanovich's former residence alone.

By the time Newt knocked on the door of the imposing detached building, it was completely dark.

When the door opened, Newt knew he hadn't come to the wrong place when he saw the person who opened the door.

He confirmed the other person's identity from his deep facial features, tall stature, and those overly sharp eyes - yes, that was Novart's son. He looked almost exactly like Novart when he was young.

"Who are you looking for?" The door opener smiled.

Newt nodded slightly and asked with a smile, "Is this the home of Novart Ivanovich?"

The smile on the door opener's face disappeared.

He carefully looked at Newt Scamander, frowned slightly, and shouted something to the back.

Immediately afterward, Newt saw a woman with a girl who was less than ten years old going upstairs behind him. And after confirming that the little girl had left, the other party opened the door and welcomed Newt in.

Inside the Ivanovich's mansion, in the drawing room, Newt formally met the son of his old friend.

His name was Yermak Ivanovich, a Soviet wizard, of course, now a Russian wizard.

Somewhat unfortunately, Newt didn't feel any of the relaxation that could be brought about by visiting an old friend's house.

Although Yermak instructed his wife to make tea for Newt, ever since the two of them sat down on the chairs in the drawing room, apart from a few simple greetings and introductions, they had been drinking tea in silence.

The atmosphere in the entire drawing room was very subtle, and the other party's faint guard made Newt feel uncomfortable all over.

There was no doubt that Newt's visit didn't seem to be very welcome.

Without the other party taking the initiative to speak, Newt also wanted to avoid bringing up topics related to Novart as much as possible.

Newt Scamander shifted his gaze away from "Little Ivanovich" and began to observe the furnishings in the room without showing any emotion. Soon, his attention was attracted by a photo frame hanging above the fireplace.

In the photo frame was a delicate medal. There was a red teardrop-shaped object on it, like a drop of blood dripping down. There were three dashed lines staggered across this drop of blood, respectively marking α, β, γ.

Suddenly, Newt felt "Little Ivanovich" draw his wand, but it didn't seem to be aimed at him.

Pa!

With a crisp snapping sound, the photo frame hanging the medal flipped over, revealing the gray bottom.

Newt frowned, retracted his gaze from the photo frame, and shifted his gaze back to "Little Ivanovich" who was putting away his wand.

Yermak seemed not to care about the extremely rude behavior just now. He lightly patted his clothes and spoke in a nonchalant tone: "The famous magizoologist Newt Scamander. What brings you here?"

Newt put the teacup on the table and gave a kind smile:

"Your father, Novart Ivanovich, and I are old friends. I don't know if Novart has mentioned me to you… Although we haven't seen each other for many years. Actually, I originally came here today to see an old friend…"

"Since you can find this place, I think you should have been to the Piskaryovskoye Memorial Cemetery, right?"

"Yes."

"Then your purpose has been achieved." Yermak raised his eyebrows and said in a flat tone.

"But I still don't know what exactly happened. Everyone is being tight-lipped about Novart's matter, so I can only come here myself to ask. What happened six years ago, why…"

Yermak Ivanovich waved his hand somewhat rudely and impatiently interrupted Newt's words.

"There's really nothing to say. The story is very simple—there was a nuclear leak at Chernobyl. The wizards believed that this was a mistake made by Muggles and should be solved by themselves, so they ordered all the wizards in the Soviet Union to evacuate and not to interfere in this matter. But my father violated the ban and did it openly. The final result was that he got 'radiation sickness,' and his wand was taken away for violating the Statute of Secrecy."

"Radiation sickness?"

"Yes! Or, to put it another way, a name you will definitely understand—Wizard's Woe."

"…" Newt didn't respond.

He knew about Wizard's Woe, an unresolvable curse—it was not known how to prevent it, and it was not known how to cure the cursed. Wizards cast healing and rejuvenation spells on the cursed, but the result made the latter even more painful.

Although he had long known that the Soviets had paid a huge price in that catastrophe, it was all seen in the newspapers. It was not until today that Newt had a real sense of the phrase "huge price" through the news of the death of his old friend.

Newt picked up the teacup and took a sip. The bitter tea did not calm his heart.

He thought for a while before speaking: "Your father… The last time we fought side by side was against Grindelwald, and he was very brave. He was a very remarkable person."

"A remarkable person?" Yermak sneered.

"He did all this just because a group of dim-witted Muggles couldn't clean up their own mess. Do you know what he got in the end?"

Yermak pointed to the medal that Newt had seen just now and snorted:

"One thousand rubles in compensation and a broken medal. Honestly, I really don't know if that broken copper is a trick used by the Muggle government to tease us. Oh, right, and a Wizengamot verdict."

"And do you know what he paid? He ignored the rules of the wizarding world! He resigned from his stable job at the Koldovstorez School of Wizardry! Even, he abandoned his own family without saying a word!

"And all this… just for a bunch of stupid Muggles!"

"You call him a remarkable person?"

"Oh, I'm sorry, I really didn't know that in your British dictionary, the definition of remarkable is abandoning responsibility!"

Yermak's sudden excitement made Newt not know what to do. Newt Scamander's hands remained awkwardly on the ear of the teacup, but he didn't know whether to put it on the table or pretend to be nonchalant and pick it up and take a sip.

Just then, the door of the drawing room was suddenly pushed open.

Newt saw the little girl who had gone upstairs standing at the door.

The little girl looked less than ten years old. Her voice was childish, but it was unusually firm:

"Grandpa is not a bad person! Grandpa is a remarkable hero!"

The appearance of Irina Ivanovich caught him off guard. He first opened his mouth in astonishment, and then his voice suddenly became stern: "Irina, we have discussed this topic many times. Your grandfather is not a hero. Now, listen, go back upstairs."

"No, Daddy!"

The little girl shouted in a louder voice: "Grandpa is a hero, he saved many innocent people. I saw in the book that without their efforts, we would have died more people! Even the whole of Europe would have become a dead place!"

"I should have known I shouldn't have let you read those Muggle books."

Yermak said, "Your grandfather is a wizard, his world is the magical world, and the people he saved are just Muggles."

Very old-fashioned remarks—Newt thought in his heart. This person is the one Alena said needs to change. But the next speech by Little Irina made Newt raise his eyebrows.

"But, Grandpa saved people!"

"…You will understand when you go to magic school. Anna, take her back to her room."

Yermak Ivanovich paused slightly, and then waved his hand impatiently, raising his voice and instructing the woman standing behind Irina. However, before he finished speaking, a deafening roar suddenly appeared in the drawing room.

Then he immediately exclaimed, "Damn it! Irina!"

The woman was blown away.

The furniture in the drawing room began to shake violently. The flames in the fireplace suddenly made a crackling explosion, and then suddenly burst into flames, and the fire began to spread around, as if it were an angry beast.

Yermak immediately drew his wand, and a blue light shone from the tip of his wand, limiting the soaring fire.

He turned his head and shouted to Irina, "Irina, calm down!"

Out of control, a phenomenon caused by emotional excitement in children with magical talent when they have not been trained. To solve this out of control, the simplest way is to divert the child's attention and prevent the child from thinking about the things that make them emotionally excited.

Fortunately, Newt has several "friends" who are very good at solving this matter.

Newt slightly raised his cuff, and a small guy that was like a dragonfly, but was red all over, had three pairs of legs, two small horns on its head, and a structure similar to an airplane tail on both sides of its tail, flew out while flapping its wings.

The "red dragonfly" flew around Irina Ivanovich a few times.

Along with a burst of inexplicable magical fluctuations, Irina, who had been full of anger just now, suddenly couldn't help but yawn, and a look of sleepiness quickly appeared on her face. The flames by the fireplace and the noise in the living room gradually dissipated.

The woman who had been blown away also stood up again.

Yermak Ivanovich saw that she was fine, breathed a sigh of relief, and re-instructed her to take Irina upstairs.

Soon, the door of the drawing room was closed again, and only Newt and Yermak were left in the room again.

There was another long silence.

Newt could feel the complex emotions in his heart from the way Yermak looked at him.

"Sir, I must thank you."

Yermak spoke, his tone much softer than before: "I have heard of your reputation in the field of magical animal research, but I didn't expect magical animals to be able to do this kind of thing… How do you tame them?"

"It's my friend." Newt smiled.

While speaking, Newt poured a little water from his teacup onto a saucer. The "red dragonfly" flexibly circled in the living room and finally landed on the saucer, sipping the tea with its mouthparts.

Yermak sighed and put his teacup aside. He took out a bottle of wine from the cabinet and shook it at Newt. Newt waved his hand, so Yermak took out another cup and poured himself a cup.

Yermak took a sip, then stared at the clear and transparent liquid in the cup and said slowly:

"That day, the Ministry of Magic's news arrived first, and the Muggle government's broadcast was about half an hour late. When the Ministry of Magic's order came, my father immediately began to pack his luggage and prepare to evacuate, but… when the Muggle government's telegram came, he still left—through the Floo Network, he went directly to Chernobyl and became one of the first people to rush to the nuclear contamination zone."

"People say that people who go to Chernobyl fight atoms with shovels. There is also a joke that the machine went to the roof of Chernobyl to work for five minutes and then malfunctioned. But the Soviets drank some vodka and went up to work for two hours — I can't laugh, I really can't laugh."

Yermak drank the wine in the cup and then poured himself another cup.

His voice was cold, but there was a hint of loneliness in it:

"My father's last days… were very painful. Acute radiation sickness, his whole body was necrotic. This disease cannot be cured with spells, it will only make him more and more painful… Finally, the people from the Ministry of Magic came and announced in front of his hospital bed that he had violated the Statute of Secrecy and took away his wand in his dying moments."

"The Muggle government awarded him a medal—the Chernobyl Nuclear Power Plant Accident Participant Medal. But after the collapse of the Soviet Union, a large number of the same medals flowed into the market, making this medal suddenly worthless."

Yermak chuckled, shook the wine bottle, and said with ridicule:

"This is what he exchanged for his life. Is it really worth it?"

Newt didn't know what to say, he could only say: "Your father is a very remarkable person."

"Yes, he is of course remarkable. He is my father, and I used to be so proud of him. But in the end, he abandoned the magical world, abandoned me, abandoned Irina… so I will never forgive him, ever."

Yermak's voice no longer contained resentment, but was replaced by a deep pain and helplessness.

"…I'm sorry."

Newt suddenly felt a little stuffy in his heart, opened his mouth, and didn't know what to say.

After another long silence, Newt Scamander looked around the messy living room and the door to the upstairs room, thought for a while, and took the initiative to break the silence, changing the topic.

"Speaking of which, your daughter's magical talent is quite good, she will definitely be the most popular student in school later!"

"School? Heh…"

Yermak Ivanovich grinned, a look of sarcasm appearing on his face.

"The Koldovstorez School of Wizardry will not forget the betrayal of the father, Irina is already eleven years old, but now it is almost the end of August, but she has not received the school's admission notice — you should know what this means, right?"

"Mr. Scamander, you must not forget that 'Wizard's Woe' is contagious! Irina, and the children of a group of 'magical world traitors,' are plagues in the eyes of most people. Do you think the noble and upright Koldovstorez School of Wizardry will allow this cursed child to step into their school?"

"How could this happen! Absurd! It's been six years!"

Newt frowned tightly and looked at the white marks burned by the high temperature by the fireplace.

"This child has such good magical talent, if she can't go to school, then it would be too…"

"Heh… there is no old guy like Albus Dumbledore here. Could it be that I can let Irina go to Hogwarts? What else can I do, I can only teach Irina myself. As for what the future holds…"

Yermak Ivanovich smiled bitterly, put down the wine bottle, and sighed.

"Wait, what did you just say?"

Just then, Newt Scamander suddenly paused.

"I can only teach Irina myself…"

"No, no, it's the previous sentence—yes! Of course! Hogwarts, Hogwarts… If, um, let me think… If it is Hogwarts this year… maybe I can…"

Newt's mind flashed the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry re-employment contract placed on his desk.

If he agreed to the request made by that little witch, then as a formal professor and former headmaster of Hogwarts, and current deputy headmaster, he would naturally have the right to add a few names to the list of Hogwarts students this year.

It's just that…

"Really? Do you have a way, Mr. Scamander!"

Yermak Ivanovich stood up and looked at Newt with an excited expression, stammering.

"Irina is very obedient! She is really a good child! By the way, her English is also particularly good, and she knows those difficult spells very well. When her father was alive, he would often tease Irina with the school's test questions and textbooks."

"I… I'm not sure…"

Newt nervously clenched his fists, subconsciously avoiding Ivanovich's expectant gaze. He also stood up, picked up the gray top hat on the table, and stammered as if someone had cast a tongue-tie curse on him.

"I'll try my best… I'll give you an answer in a few days…"

If it was just Irina alone, maybe… maybe he could ask Dumbledore to make an exception and help him with a small favor, but—if such a situation—

Newt recalled the file that the Ministry of Magic official who helped him find the Ivanovich family had shown him.

[1986, 'Pripyat Large-Scale Leak Case']

[Sealing Time: Permanent]

[Crimes: Violation of the International Statute of Wizarding Secrecy, Ignoring the Evacuation Orders of the Wizengamot Court and the International Confederation of Wizards, Seriously Affecting the Teaching Recovery Work of Koldovstorez School of Wizardry, Causing the Deaths of Multiple Wizards…]

[Number of Wizards Involved: 231]

This is…

More than two hundred families…

Walking out of the Ivanovich family's door, Newt raised his head to look at the sky, which was completely dark, and stamped his feet on the sparsely populated cobblestone streets of St. Petersburg, feeling confused and irritable in his heart.

The magical world, or rather this world…

And those laws that they once believed in and protected, what happened to them…

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