Hogwarts: Even Voldemort Can't Stop Me From Studying

Chapter 1005: Chapter 93: Traveler

Vid leaned back in his seat, pinched the bridge of his nose, and adopted a look of someone not fully awake, resting against the cabin wall with his eyes closed, thereby avoiding any conversation from the passenger next to him.

At this moment, he sported slightly disheveled short black hair, maintaining an average height, with the collar of his semi-old Oxford shirt open, revealing his wheat-colored skin.

In terms of height or appearance, he did not stand out; all potentially attention-grabbing traits were cleverly hidden under a nondescript exterior.

The economy cabin was gradually filled with passengers, and Vid could hear a booming voice from afar:

”Let me tell you, last week, that death flight returning from New York—yes, the one struck by lightning! I was on it at the time!”

The surrounding people rudely doubted him: ”Oh, come on, stop bragging! I’ve already heard three people say they were on that plane today!”

”Absolutely true!” the man declared in an exceedingly loud voice, ”I still have the ticket stub at home! It’s a pity my newly bought game console went up in flames with the plane!”

Hearing about the ticket stub, other passengers couldn’t help but believe him a bit more, and someone couldn’t resist poking their head in to ask:

”What exactly happened on that plane? I heard it was a very close call for the passengers back then?”

However, the man who was so eloquent a moment ago immediately lost his momentum in the face of this simple question, stammering:

”Uh... well... actually, actually, I fell asleep at that time... By the time I woke up, the plane had already landed, and there were police cars and ambulances everywhere outside...”

”Ew—”

The cabin suddenly burst into a chorus of boos and laughter, the merry atmosphere spreading around.

Someone ridiculed, ”Bluffing without even drafting a plan! Everyone else can explain the events on that plane clearly!”

Another person quickly flaunted some news they heard from who-knows-where: ”I heard that when the plane landed, there was a fuel leak, which is why it burned like that afterward! Truly, those passengers were lucky to be alive!”

Amid the noise, listening to the passenger’s unconvincing rebuttal, Vid’s lips curved slightly upwards.

It was evident that the man most likely did fly on that flight, which is why he couldn’t say anything.

As for the ones who were talking so eloquently, they were merely piecing together what they thought were ”facts” from the news to boast to others.

Vid had no interest in joining this dull discussion, he observed the boarding passengers one by one, ensuring there were no apparent threats among them before pulling down his eye mask, sinking back into the seat, and entering a short rest.

...

”Squeak—”

The taxi stopped on a not-so-busy street, at the street corner stood a three-story inn named the ”Traveler’s Inn,” with a neon sign missing several letters, flickering on and off, appearing as if it had turned into the ”Magic Tavern.”

Vid paid the fare, ignored the sewage flowing by the street, looked up at the sign before carrying his suitcase into the dimly lit lobby.

Behind the front desk, an old man watching TV raised his head, glancing at him lacklusterly.

”Single room, one week.” Vid placed a crumpled wad of cash and his passport on the counter.

The old man didn’t inquire about anything, skillfully recorded and collected the money, then tossed a key with a plastic tag onto the wooden counter, making a clattering sound.

”Third floor, 307, no breakfast, but the sandwiches and burgers at the restaurant next door are good.”

Vid picked up the key, carried his suitcase upstairs.

The room was just as he expected—small, dated, but fortunately tidy, with a faint scent of disinfectant lingering in the air.

Vid locked the door, pulled the heavy curtains, and stood quietly in the darkness for a while, his fingers under his cuffs subtly swaying, releasing an invisible magic power.

Moments later, he confirmed there were no extra eyes—of any kind—in the room, finally relaxing.

Vid rubbed his face, and when he lowered his hands, he had returned to his original appearance, even his clothes were slightly oversized.

Taking into account the various inconveniences of the Polyjuice Potion, Vid ultimately chose to alter his appearance using the Transfiguration Technique.

After mastering Animagus, he quickly became adept at Human Body Transfiguration Technique, especially with the help of the two best teachers in the world.

The changes in the appearance of ”Vid Gray” and ”Yor Blake” weren’t significant, he merely made himself a bit taller and subtly adjusted his features, making him appear so ordinary that even acquaintances wouldn’t recognize him face-to-face.

Then, Vid opened his suitcase, which contained only ordinary clothing and toiletries, indistinguishable from any young traveler heading out of town.

The real key lay in the pocket on the side of the suitcase.

Vid tore off the pocket stuck on the side, shook it out onto the floor, and a wardrobe taller than a person suddenly appeared; this was where he could truly rest peacefully.

As night fell deeper, Vid altered his appearance to that of ”Yor Blake” again, changed into a black coat, and went out once more.

The old man at the front desk was replaced by a young man around twenty, engrossed in playing a video game, completely oblivious to someone passing right by him.

Vid bought a hot dog at a street stand, walked to a nearby park bench to sit down, and ate slowly, his gaze discreetly sweeping over everything around him:

Office workers hurriedly striding by in suits, teenagers laughing and horsing around, delinquents swaying with their jackets slung over their arms, homeless people rummaging through trash cans under the street lights...

From this location, he could also see the White Bridge Inn on another street.

Travelers dressed in a blend between Muggles and Wizards, inconspicuous in either realm, were coming and going within.

Vid didn’t see the familiar faces who had been lodging at the inn a week ago, but he did spot a few individuals that seemed like government officials entering.

Vid’s sleeve shook slightly, and a small wasp flew out, swiftly heading straight for the White Bridge Inn, slowing down abruptly as it approached, then gliding through a window.

A voice with a cold, firm quality suddenly spoke in Vid’s ear:

”...All accommodation records need to be immediately sealed and handed over; this is an order from the Magic Congress.”

”I’m sorry!” the innkeeper said languidly, ”Two days ago, when I was smoking, I accidentally burned the register, what we’re using now is new, holding only two days of records. Do you need them? If so, take them away!”

An infuriated voice followed, ”How is it possible that it just happened by chance! Just when we’re about to ask you, your register got burned!”

”It wasn’t by chance; it accidentally burned two days ago already,” the innkeeper said, ”Don’t believe me? Ask them, or use that detection magic to check if you’d like.”

”Yes, yes.” The two or three guests in the lobby chimed in, ”We all saw it, it really was an accident.”

”Very well.”

Moments later, the Ministry of Magic official’s icy voice resounded again:

”The British Ministry of Magic will arrive shortly, for the overall safety and stability of both magical societies, Mr. Henderson, the Magic Congress demands that you maintain absolute, permanent silence regarding all unconventional events recently occurring here!”

”Any form of information leakage will be considered a serious crime endangering magical safety!”

After a pause, the innkeeper spoke quietly: ”Understood.”

...

Across the street, Vid squinted slightly.

The colorful neon lights cast onto his face, rendering that ordinary façade into a multitude of colors, his expression indistinct.

A somewhat old ice cream van slowly crossed the street, passed in front of Vid, and leisurely disappeared around the corner.