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Chapter 417: The Snake-Faced Baby
Chapter 417: The Snake-Faced Baby
"Professor Abigail resigned?"
Upon hearing this news, the three students were visibly shocked.
Harry asked in disbelief, "Why would Professor suddenly resign? I didn't hear any news about this before the holiday!"
Michael, however, stroked his chin and said, "Wait... Now that I think about it, Professor Abigail did seem to be bidding farewell during the last day's banquet."
"I heard she had some family matters and returned to her country," Ryan Troca quickly explained, not wanting to be disliked by his future students before even starting his job.
"I see." Vold patted Harry's shoulder comfortingly, "You'd better get used to it early on! We just can't seem to keep a long-term Defense Against the Dark Arts professor."
Ryan Troca glanced at Vold, thinking, Could this student have also heard the rumors about the curse on the Defense Against the Dark Arts position?
However, feeling he hadn't done anything wrong and only intending to be a professor for half a year, he didn't pay much mind to the curse.
Ryan Troca said, "I heard that Professor Abigail was an excellent teacher. I came to the bookstore to buy the textbooks she selected for you, so we can continue with the same curriculum next semester. Would you mind helping me find the books? You can also tell me about your progress."
"Of course, leave it to us!" Harry quickly replied.
After the professor had just helped him avoid trouble, Harry was naturally eager to lend a hand.
Vold and Michael exchanged glances and headed towards the bookshelves as well.
The textbooks varied across different grades, but Vold, having read them all, quickly gathered the necessary books.
Michael went out onto the street and randomly approached a few students from other grades to help the new professor understand the students' overall level.
"Hmm, so next semester we'll be learning about vampires and werewolves, as well as Boggarts..."
A fleeting unease crossed Ryan Troca's face as he said, "They are dangerous creatures, and we need to learn their weaknesses and strategies to deal with them... Of course, this includes their culture and history. For example... Do you know who the first vampire was? There's an uninteresting story behind it..."
Ryan Troca spoke with ease, and soon, the surrounding students fell silent, listening intently.
He exuded a strong scholarly aura, with deep knowledge, refined manners, and humble and gentle speech, quickly winning everyone's favor.
"Although Professor Abigail was good, the new professor is not bad, right? At least he won't go around beating people up."
Michael whispered, seemingly pleased with the new professor.
Harry pursed his lips.
Although he was grateful for Professor Troca's help and understood that the new professor seemed more like a typical professor, he didn't want to say it out loud, as it would make him feel like a traitor.
Vold tilted his head slightly, watching the witch who had just left the bookstore with two books in hand.
Despite appearing like an ordinary middle-aged woman...
Serra Abigail.
She had the exact same name as his resigned Defense Against the Dark Arts professor.
And those two guys beside her...
...
Abigail exited the store with her books, only to be met by Baird's smirk.
"Wipe that smirk off your face!" Abigail said coldly.
"If you're feeling hurt, don't take it out on me," Baird retorted sarcastically. "You even changed your Patronus for those students, but what good did it do? As soon as the new professor arrived, they adored and forgot about you just as quickly."
Abigail looked at him with a mocking expression and asked, "Have you ever cared about anyone, Baird?"
Baird's face turned cold.
"If you had..."
Abigail continued, "You'd understand that even when apart, you'd still wish the other person well. That's what a normal person would think."
As he watched Abigail leave triumphantly, Baird's face turned pale with anger. He grabbed Ilari, who was peeking through the window, and dragged the embarrassing fellow away.
"Wait! Wait! Let me take one more look! Can I say something to him? Just one sentence!"
Ilari struggled, and as they pulled at each other, he accidentally hit the arm of a wizard holding a child.
The two locked eyes for a moment, and the wizard glared at him fiercely. Ilari shuddered and instantly fell silent.
Baird sensed something was amiss and looked cautiously at the wizard in the black robe, asking quietly, "What's wrong?"
"Something's odd..."
Ilari whispered, his face turning pale, "The thing he's holding... It doesn't seem like a person!"
Baird frowned, "Isn't there a baby in the swaddle?"
"You didn't see its face..." Hilary pondered for a moment. "I think I've heard of similar witchcraft before... That thing... seems like a Kuman Thong!"
"Kuman Thong..." Baird recalled.
It was said to be a form of witchcraft from Southeast Asia, also known as "Raising a Little Ghost," something he had heard of but didn't understand.
As the black-robed wizard walked towards Knockturn Alley, Baird scoffed, "This launch event has attracted all sorts of monsters! Let's go, it has nothing to do with us!"
"He's not after Vold Grey, is he?" Hilary asked worriedly. "What if he takes little Vold away? We don't understand Southeast Asian witchcraft."
Baird dismissed the idea, "We didn't have a chance, and neither will they, just because they're new here. Do you know how many Aurors are guarding this street today?"
"I don't know..." Hilary asked innocently.
Baird choked, "Anyway, stop asking questions. Let's go! If we stay any longer, we'll be noticed!"
...
After entering Knockturn Alley, the black-robed wizard paused by the wall, using the reflection to ensure the passing wizards didn't suspect anything. Only then did he relax.
An old wizard, his face covered in black soot, approached, his unfriendly gaze fixed on the black-robed wizard. She smiled, revealing a mouthful of black, broken teeth.
The ragged old wizard rasped, "Anything you'd like to buy? All top-quality goods."
He opened his cloak, revealing over a dozen shrunken heads hanging inside. Some muttered curses, while others stared at the black-robed wizard with sticky, evil eyes. A few even struggled to bite the heads next to them.
Without hesitation, the black-robed wizard drew his wand and waved it forcefully, creating a deep crack on the dirty ground that passed right by the old wizard's toes.
Startled, the old wizard stumbled back and fell. The heads in his cloak immediately cheered, and several mouths bit down without hesitation.
The old wizard howled and rolled around, tearing the heads off his body. He grabbed a bone stick and beat each head, causing them to scream.
The black-robed wizard gave him a cold glance, carefully moved the swaddled bundle to his chest, and quickly walked past the old wizard, entering Borgin and Burkes.
The heads' screams stopped, and several pairs of eyes stared intently in that direction.
"Darkness... Darkness..."
They whispered:
"Such evil darkness..."
...
"Ding-a-ling..."
The bell on the counter rang, and the hunchbacked Mr. Borgin hurried out from the back.
"Welcome, sir—how may I help you?"
He spoke in an oily tone, his eyes quickly scanning the black-robed wizard, lingering for a moment on the bulge at his chest.
—A child? Or a corpse?
Having run a shop in Knockturn Alley for centuries, Mr. Borgin had encountered all sorts of dark wizards and dangerous dark artifacts.
He wasn't interested in the black-robed wizard's identity or secrets; he only cared about how much money the wizard could bring him.
The black-robed wizard placed a heavy bag of coins on the counter. With a loud thud, the bag opened, revealing a pile of gleaming Galleons.
Mr. Borgin's eyes widened, and his smile became more sincere and radiant. "What can I get for you, my esteemed sir?"
"I have a long list of items to purchase," the black-robed wizard said in a deep voice. He took out a scroll of parchment from his pocket and placed it on the counter, asking, "Can you get me everything on this list?"
Mr. Borgin put on a pair of pince-nez and examined the list carefully.
"Hemlock, mandrake, wolfsbane, phoenix tail feathers, unicorn horn, troll heart..."
He smiled, "Except for the sphinx feathers and wendigo claws, which will take a few days, I can get you everything else right now."
"Good." The black-robed wizard poured a pile of Galleons onto the table. "I don't have much time, so please prepare them quickly."
"Yes, yes! I'll do it right away!"
Mr. Borgin scurried into the back room, and the shop fell silent.
A few minutes later, the black-robed wizard emerged from Borgin and Burkes, carrying a box.
The old wizard by the entrance was gone, and in the distance, a few suspicious figures lingered—a unique and permanent "scenery" of Knockturn Alley that the black-robed wizard ignored.
At that moment, a soft, sharp voice emanated from his chest—
"Snake poison... Go to Bagwell's shop and buy it."
"Yes, Master," the wizard in black robes whispered, bowing his head.
He glanced around and spotted Bagwell's shop sign not far away. He strode towards it.
As he walked, the collar of his robe flapped open, revealing a bizarre-looking baby inside.
The baby appeared red, as if it had no skin or hair, its body covered in fine scales. Its head bore a strange snake-like face with glowing red eyes.
It peered out from the gap, its gaze malevolent and fierce, as if a terrifying soul resided within its tiny body.
A cold wind blew, lifting snow from the roof's edge, and the black-robed wizard quickly gathered his robe to shield the baby from the cold, also concealing the peculiar face.
...
"Ding!"
The elevator emitted a crisp sound, and the iron gate-like door slid open with a clatter.
"Department of Mysteries."
A cold, female voice spoke.
"This way, please follow me."
A wizard with a wooden expression led the way, followed by several formidable wizards, including the lion-like Auror Chief and Kingsley Shacklebolt.
They hurried through an empty corridor and eventually stopped in front of a simple black door.
"Bodd, is this the Department of Mysteries?" one of the Aurors asked curiously from behind.
"Yes, this is it," the wooden-faced wizard replied.
He pushed open the door, and they all entered.
Inside was a massive circular room with black walls and a black floor. On the walls were twelve identical black doors, each with a candle emitting blue flames in the center.
As soon as they entered, the candles lit up automatically, but the room remained dim, as if the light was being devoured by the floor and walls.
Bodd identified the direction and headed straight for one of the black doors, opening it to reveal a bright light from within.
Scrimgeour and the others followed, and the younger Aurors at the back of the group strained their necks, eager to catch a glimpse of the room's interior.
It was a square room with a table and, in the center, a large glass tank filled with an ink-green liquid. Inside, white objects floated slowly, resembling a group of jellyfish.
"Is this the Brain Room?" Scrimgeour asked.
"Yes," Bodd replied.
"Are those... human brains?" the young Auror asked in horror, then covered his mouth under Scrimgeour's stern gaze.
"You said someone broke in here..." Kingsley inquired, "Did you lose something, or did the intruder do something here?"
Bodd slowly raised his head and looked at Kingsley. After a long pause, he said, "We don't know."
Kingsley was taken aback. "What do you mean?"
"The number of brains here isn't fixed," Bodd explained. "Sometimes they suddenly increase, and other times they decrease to just one or two. So, we don't know how many there are, nor can we tell if any have been stolen."
"We have no way of knowing what the intruder did here either," he continued. "The Brain Room is one of the most mysterious places in the Department of Mysteries because thoughts are elusive and intangible."
"Alright, let's get to work," Scrimgeour interrupted. "Try to find traces of the intruder... but stay away from that tank."
"Yes, sir!"
The Aurors responded and began their investigation.
Each of them possessed unique skills and abilities in their respective fields, and they quickly detected faint magical traces and several footprints, which they meticulously recorded.
Kingsley used his wand to draw a thin, green mist into a crystal bottle, preserving it.
"He's an experienced one," he heard his colleague mutter. "Almost all valuable clues have been destroyed, except for..."
They all looked towards the tank.
There were more traces left near the tank, probably because the intruder didn't want to cause any severe damage to the brains inside.
The traces extended into the tank, but Scrimgeour forbade them from approaching it for investigation, and Bodd, the silent one, stood guard, watching them as if they were the thieves.
(End of Chapter)
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