"Professor Abigail resigned?"
The three students were visibly shocked by the news.
Harry asked, unwilling to accept it, "Why would the professor suddenly resign? We didn't hear anything about it before the holidays!"
Michael, however, stroked his chin and said, "No… if you think about it, Professor Abigail did seem to be saying goodbye at the final feast."
"I heard there was a family emergency, and she went back to her home country," Ryan Trocar explained quickly, not wanting to be disliked by his future students before he even started.
"So that's what happened." Wade patted Harry, consoling him, "You'd better get used to it! We just can't seem to have a long-term Defense Against the Dark Arts professor."
Ryan Trocar glanced at Wade, thinking, Did this student also hear the rumors about the curse on the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor position?
However, he felt he hadn't done anything bad, and he only planned to be a professor for half a year, so he didn't take any curses to heart.
Ryan Trocar said, "I heard Professor Abigail was an excellent teacher. I came to the bookstore because I planned to buy the textbooks she chose for you, so we can continue next semester—would you mind helping me find the textbooks? And telling me about your progress."
"Of course, of course, leave it to us!" Harry quickly said.
The professor had just helped him avoid trouble, so Harry was naturally eager to help in return.
Wade and Michael exchanged glances and also went to the bookshelves.
The textbooks for different grades weren't the same, but Wade had seen all of them and quickly gathered all the books.
Michael went out onto the street and randomly found a few students from other grades to help the new professor understand everyone's level.
"Hmm, will we be studying Vampires and Werewolves next semester? And Boggarts…"
A flicker of unease crossed Ryan Trocar's face as he said, "They're all dangerous creatures; we need to learn their weaknesses and coping strategies… and of course, their culture and history. For example… do you know who the first Vampire was? There's a rather uninteresting story behind it…"
Ryan Trocar spoke eloquently, and the surrounding students unconsciously quieted down, listening intently.
He was a man with a strong academic aura, profound knowledge, refined manners, and humble, gentle speech, quickly winning everyone's favor.
"Even though Professor Abigail was great, the new professor isn't bad either, right? At least he definitely won't beat people up."
Michael whispered privately, seemingly quite pleased with this professor.
Harry pursed his lips.
Although he was very grateful for Professor Trocar's help, and he knew in his heart that this professor seemed more like a "professor," he didn't want to say it out loud. It would make him feel like a traitor.
Wade tilted his head, looking at the witch who had just walked out of the bookstore after buying two books.
Although she looked like an ordinary middle-aged woman, still…
Sera Abigail.
The person had the exact same name as his resigned Defense Against the Dark Arts professor.
And those two guys next to her…
...
Abigail emerged from the store with her books, and was met with Byrd's knowing smirk.
"Wipe that look off your face!" Abigail said coldly.
"If you feel hurt, don't take it out on me," Byrd sneered. "You even changed your Patronus's form because of those students, but what good did that do? As soon as a new professor arrived, they embraced him and forgot all about you in an instant."
Abigail looked back at him with an equally sarcastic expression and asked, "Have you ever cared about anyone, Byrd?"
Byrd's face turned cold.
"If you had…"
Abigail continued, "You'd understand that even after parting ways, you'd still wish the best for the other person—that's what a normal person would think."
Watching Abigail walk away victoriously, Byrd's face turned green with anger. He grabbed Ilari, who was peeking into the window, and dragged the embarrassing fellow away.
"Wait! Wait! Let me just see one more time! Can I say something to him? Just one word!"
Ilari struggled, and in their tug-of-war, he accidentally bumped into the arm of a wizard carrying a baby.
The two made eye contact for a moment, and the other person glared fiercely at him. Ilari shivered and instantly quieted down.
Byrd sensed something was wrong and cautiously looked at the wizard wrapped in a black robe, asking in a low voice, "What's wrong?"
"Something's strange…"
Ilari whispered, his face pale, "What that guy's carrying… it doesn't seem to be a person!"
Byrd frowned, "It's not a baby in the swaddling clothes?"
"You didn't see the front of that thing…" Ilari pondered for a moment and said, "I think I've heard of similar dark magic before… that thing… it looks like a Kuman Thong!"
"Kuman Thong…" Byrd recalled.
It was said to be a Southeast Asian form of dark magic, also known as "Raising a Ghost Child." He had heard of it but didn't know much about it.
Watching the black-robed wizard walk towards Knockturn Alley, Byrd snorted, "This sale really has attracted all sorts of strange creatures! Let's go, it has nothing to do with us!"
"He wouldn't be after Wade Gray, would he?" Ilari asked worriedly. "What if he takes little Wade away? We don't know anything about Southeast Asian dark magic."
Byrd dismissed the idea, "We don't have a chance, so how could these newcomers from abroad? Do you know how many Aurors are guarding this street today?"
"No… how many?" Ilari asked innocently.
Byrd choked. "Just don't ask, let's go! If we stay any longer, we'll all be targeted!"
...
After entering Knockturn Alley, the black-robed wizard stopped by a wall for a moment. He used the reflection to check if the wizards he'd occasionally bumped into seemed suspicious. Only when he realized they hadn't was he able to relax.
An old wizard, whose face was so covered in soot that his features were indistinguishable, approached. Seeing the black-robed wizard's unfriendly gaze, she grinned, revealing a mouth full of missing, blackened teeth.
The old wizard, who looked like a homeless person, said in a hoarse voice, "Care to buy anything? All top-quality goods."
He pulled open his cloak, revealing a dozen shrunken heads hanging inside. Some were muttering curses, some stared at the black-robed wizard with slimy, evil eyes, and others tried desperately to open their mouths to bite the heads next to them.
Without a word, the black-robed wizard drew his wand and gave a forceful flick. A deep crack instantly appeared on the filthy ground, scraping past the old wizard's toes.
He jumped in fright, stumbled backward, and accidentally fell. Cheers immediately erupted from inside his cloak, and several mouths bit down without hesitation.
The old wizard wailed and rolled, tearing the heads off himself. He then picked up a bone stick and started hitting them one by one, making the heads scream continuously.
The black-robed wizard gave him a cold look. He carefully moved the bundle closer to his chest, covered it with his cloak, and quickly walked past the old wizard, entering Borgin and Burkes.
The heads' screams stopped. Several pairs of eyes stared intently in that direction.
"Darkness... darkness..."
They whispered:
"Such evil darkness..."
...
"Ding-a-ling-a-ling..."
The bell on the counter rang, and the hunchbacked Mr. Borgin quickly emerged from the back.
"Welcome, sir—how may I help you?"
He spoke in an unctuous tone, his gaze quickly sweeping over the black-robed wizard, pausing particularly on the bulge in his chest.
A child? Or a corpse?
Having run a shop in Knockturn Alley for centuries without fail, Mr. Borgin had naturally seen all sorts of Dark Wizards and dangerous Dark Magic artifacts.
He wasn't interested in the black-robed wizard's identity or secrets; he only wanted to know how much profit the other person could bring him.
The black-robed wizard placed a heavy money pouch on the counter with a thud. The pouch's opening was loose, revealing a large pile of gleaming Galleons.
Mr. Borgin's eyes widened, and the smile on his face became even more genuine and radiant. "What would you like to buy, my esteemed sir?"
"I need many things," the black-robed wizard said in a low voice. He pulled a rolled parchment from his pocket and placed it on the counter, asking, "Can you get everything on this list?"
Mr. Borgin put on a pair of pince-nez and examined it carefully.
"Hemlock, Mandrake, Wolfsbane Aconite, Phoenix Feather, Unicorn horn, Troll Heart..."
He smiled. "Except for Sphinx feathers and Wendigo claws, which will take a few days, I can get you everything else right now."
"Excellent." The black-robed wizard poured a pile of Galleons onto the table. "I don't have much time, please prepare them as quickly as possible."
"Yes, yes! Right away!"
Mr. Borgin scurried into the back room, and the shop instantly became quiet.
A few minutes later, the black-robed wizard emerged from Borgin and Burkes carrying a box.
The old wizard who had been at the entrance was gone. There were a few shifty characters in the distance—a unique "scenery" that would never disappear from Knockturn Alley—but the black-robed wizard paid them no mind.
Just then, a faint, sharp voice came from his chest—
"Snake venom... buy it at Bagwell's shop."
"Yes, Master," the black-robed wizard whispered softly, lowering his head.
He looked around and spotted Bagwell's shop sign not far away. He walked towards it.
As he moved, the collar of his cloak opened and closed, faintly revealing a very strange infant inside.
It looked reddish, as if it had no skin or hair, and its body seemed covered in fine scales. Its head was a bizarre snake face with glowing red eyes.
It peered out at the cold, vast world through the gap, its gaze evil and violent. A terrifying soul seemed to reside within its tiny body.
A cold wind blew, swirling snowflakes from the rooftops. The black-robed wizard quickly pulled his cloak tighter, lest the infant inside get cold, and also to conceal its strange face.
...
"Ding—"
The elevator chimed crisply, and the iron-barred gate rattled open.
"Department of Mysteries."
A cold female voice spoke.
"This way, please follow me."
A wizard with an impassive face led the way, followed by several impressive-looking wizards. At the forefront was the lion-like Head Auror Scrimgeour, closely followed by Kingsley Shacklebolt.
The group quickly walked through an empty corridor, finally stopping in front of a plain black door.
"Bode, is this the Department of Mysteries?" an Auror from the back asked curiously.
"Yes, this is it," the wizard replied, his face expressionless.
He pushed the door open, and everyone followed him inside.
They found themselves in a vast circular room with black walls and a black floor. Twelve identical black doors lined the walls, and between them, candles flickered with blue flames.
As soon as they entered, the candles lit themselves, but the room remained incredibly dim, as if the light had been swallowed by the floor and walls.
Bode quickly oriented himself, then walked directly to one of the black doors. He pushed it open, and bright light streamed out from within.
Scrimgeour and the others walked over. The younger Aurors at the back of the group craned their necks, eager to see what was inside.
It was a square room with a table in the center. A large glass tank filled with dark green liquid sat on the table, and inside, several white objects floated slowly, resembling a group of jellyfish.
"Is this the Brain Room?" Scrimgeour asked.
"Yes," Bode replied.
"Are those… are those human brains?"
A young Auror asked, horrified, then clamped a hand over his mouth under Scrimgeour's stern gaze.
"You said someone broke in here…" Kingsley asked, "What did you lose? Or what did the intruder do here?"
Bode slowly raised his head, looking at Kingsley. After a long moment, he said, "We don't know."
Kingsley paused. "What do you mean?"
Bode explained, "The number of brains here isn't fixed. Sometimes it suddenly increases, sometimes it decreases to only one or two. So we don't know how many there are, nor if any have been stolen."
"As for what the intruder did here, we also have no way of knowing—the Brain Room is one of the most mysterious places in the Department of Mysteries, because thoughts are elusive, without form or substance."
"Alright, let's get to work," Scrimgeour interrupted them. "Find any traces of the intruder you can… but don't go near that tank."
"Yes!"
Several Aurors acknowledged and began their investigation.
They were all individuals with unique skills and abilities in their respective fields. They quickly detected faint magical traces and a few residual footprints, which everyone meticulously recorded.
Kingsley used his Wand to guide a very fine wisp of green mist into a crystal vial, preserving it.
"An experienced one," he heard his colleague mutter. "Almost all valuable clues have been destroyed, except for…"
They all looked at the tank.
Only around the tank were there significant residual traces, perhaps because the intruder didn't want to cause any serious damage to the brains inside.
The traces extended into the tank, but Scrimgeour wouldn't allow them to investigate closer to it. Bode, the Unspeakable, also stood guard by the tank, watching them constantly, as if they were the thieves.
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