Orléans, a picturesque city located in central France. It wasn't far from Paris, just over a hundred kilometers that would take only an hour by car, or mere seconds by Floo Powder.
Although war and industrialization had diminished much of the scenery here, many natural landscapes still remained. There were numerous Muggle historical sites and monuments, and for wizards, there was the largest magical forest in all of France.
Though it couldn't compare to the Forbidden Forest, the Orléans Forest's scale and resources were sufficient to support dozens of wizarding communities. However, since entry had only recently been permitted, not many people lived in the vicinity.
In a remote cottage on the outskirts of Orléans, amidst complete silence, the crackling sound of a fire suddenly broke through.
Dark green flames suddenly ignited in the ash-covered fireplace, burning brighter and brighter, sweeping all the ash in the fireplace skyward. A few seconds later, a figure emerged from the flames, stepping out slowly and taking a deep breath of what should have been the sweet air of the Orléans countryside.
"Cough cough cough!"
After bending over and coughing for a long time, Evans finally remembered he was a wizard. He pressed his wand to his throat, and after a flash of pale blue light, the feeling of his throat being filled with dust gradually dissipated.
"Phew! How long has no one been to this wretched place? Hasn't anyone used this fireplace in the past two years?"
Looking around at the thick layer of dust covering everything, Evans shook his head and walked to a table and chairs.
Everything that had just happened was still echoing in his mind. Evans could roughly piece together the specific course of events.
According to Mr. Smith's frantic description, it seemed someone had visited his grandmother years ago, and he had personally opened the door for that person.
Combined with the fact that it was only when he asked about Hufflepuff's cup that the man revealed this information, it was obvious that the cup had been stolen long ago. The thief was most likely Voldemort, which also confirmed what Dumbledore had said. This was intelligence related to a Horcrux.
But Dumbledore probably hadn't expected this so-called Mr. Smith to be a Death Eater, and a Death Eater of considerable skill at that.
To perform forced Apparition right under his nose... this wasn't something an ordinary wizard could accomplish.
After all, compared to Apparition, his own flash ability had far too short a wind-up time. Even though he had been somewhat distracted by wanting to call Tim out, it would require extremely high proficiency to escape before he could interrupt.
As for that photo frame, it should be a container, though he didn't know what was inside it.
He should write a letter to report this.
Drawing his wand and cleaning the dust from the table and chairs, Evans sat at the table and pulled out a piece of parchment and a quill enchanted with a Never-Ending Ink charm from his pocket.
Dear Headmaster...
Writing all the intelligence he had just gathered unchanged in the letter, Evans folded it and walked to the window, shaking a pale gold bell hanging outside.
After the bell rang for half a minute, the sound of flapping wings came from outside the window. A gaunt owl with somewhat lazy eyes landed by the window and lightly pecked at the wood by the windowsill.
Looking at the owl's emaciated appearance, Evans pulled out a deep red ball from his pocket. "Here, eat something first."
The owl moved closer to sniff it, then quickly pecked up the small ball and swallowed it, hooting cheerfully. Its lazy eyes immediately sparkled with newfound energy.
"Then I'll leave it to you. Deliver this to Hogwarts, to the Headmaster's office."
Tying the letter to the owl's leg and watching it fly away with strong wingbeats, Evans's lips curved into a cold smile.
Regarding this matter, he had roughly formed an investigative approach. Following this line of inquiry, he should be able to find traces of that Death Eater, possibly even locate that Horcrux directly.
But he wouldn't do it!
A professor's salary was paltry, and vacation was less than three months. Investigating this matter would take at least over a month.
Wanting him to get involved in this matter out of curiosity, then track down that Death Eater's whereabouts, go through countless hardships to finally capture him, and then escort him to Hogwarts to report the situation?
He had seen through the old turnip's scheme!
Although Dumbledore might not have known beforehand that this person was a Death Eater, he definitely knew what clues this person possessed!
He could already imagine the situation he would face. Finding clues from fragments, then engaging in battles of wit with that Death Eater, perhaps even facing various dangers, breaking through layers of obstacles to finally capture that Death Eater and enjoy the fruits of victory.
The more he thought about it, the more obvious Evans's cold smile became.
Really treating him like a free private detective, weren't they?
Heh, clean up your own cultivated Dark Lord yourself!
After finishing all this, Evans left the cottage feeling completely relaxed.
Now he was going to start enjoying his vacation!
The French Ministry's Floo Network point was set up near the Orléans Forest, only a ten-minute walk away.
Although the Orléans Forest was a hidden magical forest, its perimeter could be seen by Muggles, just like the Forbidden Forest.
Even though it wasn't very well-known, in this era any forest with decent scenery inevitably had Muggles present.
Ten minutes later, looking at the two Muggles on a bench not far away who were pressed together, lovingly whispering sweet nothings to each other, Evans couldn't help but get goosebumps all over.
He really couldn't enjoy these French people's so-called "passion."
Quickening his pace, he passed by the two people. Only when he could no longer hear those sounds did Evans slowly breathe a sigh of relief.
Further ahead was the Orléans Forest.
An Orléans Forest that Muggles didn't know about.
"That person looked a bit strange."
The embracing couple slowly separated. The woman's cheeks were flushed. She seemed not to have recovered from their previous kiss and looked somewhat dazed.
The man across from her was looking at the back of the person who had just passed by, a trace of confusion in his eyes.
Why did he feel that person was somehow off?
As her intelligence returned to her brain, watching that person's gradually retreating figure, the woman pursed her lips disdainfully.
"Obviously an Englishman. Completely unable to handle our 'passion.'"
Hearing the woman say this, the man also looked enlightened.
"Englishman? Ah, no wonder he felt so strange." His tone also carried some mockery. "Hmph, how could someone from a country where the only edible food is fried potatoes and fish possibly understand our passion?"
Saying this, the two were about to continue their "passionate" interaction, but just then, the man suddenly frowned, turned his head toward where that person had disappeared, and his face gradually lost all color.
"What's wrong?"
Noticing her partner's abnormal expression, the woman asked with concern.
"Didn't that person walk in that direction?" The man's voice carried a trace of trembling as he slowly extended his hand, pointing in one direction.
Sitting up and following his gaze, the woman's face also turned white instantly.
She also remembered that the Englishman had indeed walked in that direction, but she had been busy with their interaction at the time and hadn't paid much attention.
But now looking...
That location was a cliff face of the Orléans mountain range, with only a ravine in the middle that looked as if it had been split open by a giant axe.
Bottomlessly deep.