days at Hogwarts

Chapter 534 Gifts and Missions

The renowned wand-making master Gregorovitch was just an elderly scholar with sparse gray hair and a lingering smell of tung oil. He was hanging upside down in the air, and his back, which was hunched over from long hours at the desk, made a clicking sound under the heavy load.

With his cheeks flushed, Gregorovitch struggled to squeeze out a bit of strength from his body, and raised his head to look at the vicious British witch in front of him: "Please, I am willing to hand over my memory, you will understand after you see it..."

Bellatrix glanced at the struggling old man with contempt and covered her nose with some disgust.

The world-renowned wand maker was swaying slightly in mid-air. His bloated body secreted a lot of cold sweat because of fear. The sweat dripped from the top of his head along his upside-down body. The smell of sweat mixed with tung oil spread in the air, making people feel sick.

"Memory? I'll take a good look..."

Bellatrix smiled and waved her wand, "Crucio"

An ominous flash of blood sank into the old craftsman's body. Gregorovitch groaned, and the next moment, his screams and wails were blocked in his mouth and throat. The intense pain made him unable to make a sound.

The magic power of the Cruciatus Curse spread to every inch of the body. The muscles suddenly tensed, the tendons and bones twisted and spasmed, the blood vessels squirmed like snakes and worms, and every pore seemed to be nailed with iron nails, as if someone was swinging a huge hammer and hitting it continuously. The intense pain made every bone and every joint have self-awareness, trying to break free from the skin and muscle wrapping, tear the body apart, and extricate themselves from the endless pain.

Gregorovitch uttered a hoarse sound from his throat:
"Please spare...me...please spare me..."

"Please...I didn't..."

"I really didn't..."

An unknown amount of time had passed before the old craftsman collapsed powerlessly. His pupils were cloudy and unfocused, as if he could no longer see clearly what was in front of him. His nostrils and mouth were slightly open, and he managed to squeeze out a stagnant breath from his trachea, but he did not have the energy to complete the inhalation movement. He looked like he was about to die.

Bellatrix took a few steps forward and stretched out her metal hand to pinch the old man's neck, as if she was pinching a suffocating, slippery, fat fish. She applied a little force with her silver fingers and pulled a cruel smile at the corner of her mouth: "Now, let me see your memory..."

With a grunting and struggling breath, the old craftsman raised his head slightly, his cloudy eyes seemed to be fixed by some force, staring straight ahead, his pupils gradually dilated, like two black holes, connecting to the depths of his long-lost memory...

In the dim attic corridor, a series of hurried footsteps were heard, and Gregorovitch, holding a lantern, walked quickly into the scene. At that time, he was still a middle-aged craftsman, short and fat but strong, and agile.

They walked all the way to the room with a workshop at the end of the corridor. Hearing the noise in the room, Gregorovitch's face changed drastically and he pushed open the door angrily.

The lights in the workshop were bright, sawdust and gold powder flickered in the swaying light circles, and perched on the window was a blond boy with a handsome face and a posture like an elegant big bird.

The moment he met Gregorovitch's angry gaze, his handsome face was filled with joy, and then the uninvited guest shot a stunning spell with his wand, jumped out of the window, leaving behind a series of loud laughter.

"Who was that thief, Gregorovitch?" Bellatrix's face was gloomy. When she thought that she could only bring this memory back to report to the Dark Lord, she couldn't help but reveal murderous intent in her eyes.

"I don't know, I never knew, a young man..."

"[Heart-cutting out the bones]"

The shrill groaning sounded again and lasted for a long time.

……

Number 12, Grimmauld Place, Basement Kitchen.

A bright and hot golden flame was suspended above the long table, and the dazzling light fell on every corner of the dim room. The quietly burning flame gave off a warm and soft glow, which did not require external magic power to maintain or fuel supply. Hermione stood beside the long table, her beautiful eyes sparkling, and she whispered:
"The Gublai fairy fire... the eternally burning flame..."

"This... is a birthday present for me?" Loren looked at the golden flame floating in the air and burning quietly, a hint of surprise flashing in his eyes.

Not as fierce and violent as the fierce fire, nor as weak as the bluebell flame.

The golden flame seemed like a living magical creature. The magic power contained within it flowed along a special route, just like the magic power in the bodies of wizards and magical animals, endless and inexhaustible.

"I'm so sorry, Loren, that your birthday present is almost two weeks late."

Dumbledore scratched his hair in annoyance and sighed, "Because it is difficult to deliver, I once thought of using an owl to deliver it, but the postmen all refused this task..."

"..."

Loren and Hermione ignored his muttered jokes and came closer to observe the eternal fire that was said to never go out. Their breath blew over it, and the flame floated and jumped, swaying gently like branches in the wind.

Her clear eyes reflected the gently swaying flames, and many strange ideas suddenly popped up in Hermione's little head:
If the bellflower flame is also released in this shape, it seems to be more labor-saving...

When releasing the fire spell, the trajectory of the tip of the staff can also be adjusted...

Loren looked at the Gublai fairy fire burning steadily with a thoughtful look, and he also had many insights about fire in his mind:
While manipulating the transformation of the Fiendish Flame, using a similar method to build a magic cycle inside the flame, the Fiendish Flame should be able to burn more vigorously and for a longer time... The flame defense that is progressing slowly seems to be able to learn from the Gublai Fairy Fire and be improved...

Looking at the two children's sparkling eyes, Dumbledore smiled and said, "Gublay Fairy Fire is not as precious as you think. It is just a lost magic. Ancient wizards often used it to maintain long-term lighting, replacing torches, or placed it in the fireplace or on the stove. Many houses and tombs have traces of it burning."

"Hmm?" Hermione raised her head and asked in confusion, "Since it is a commonly used magic, why did the Gubler Fairy Fire disappear later?"

"Because accidents always happen to wizards who use it on a daily basis."

"Curse?" Hermione blinked.

"It was a fire."

Loren had a subtle expression as he explained to the little witch beside him, "The Gublai fairy fire never goes out. Over the years, over the years and decades, it will always cause an accident when a wizard is not on guard, causing a fire. Plus, it never goes out..."

"..."

Hermione fell into deep thought.

"The Gublerite fire is gentle and stable. It has remained the same for decades, which will make wizards relax their vigilance. By the time they realize it, the fire can no longer be stopped." Dumbledore nodded. "But you don't need to use it for daily heating and lighting. Just store it separately in ordinary candlesticks."

Loren thought for a moment, planned a way to store the flame in his mind, then looked up at Dumbledore and asked, "Principal, you said in your letter that you need my help with something. What is it?"

"I need you to pick up Hagrid for me..."

(End of this chapter)