days at Hogwarts

Chapter 752: Conversation in a Blurred Illusion
A brand new day is coming.

In a tall building next to the airport, on an open-air platform.

A middle-aged witch dressed strangely sat in the air with her legs dangling in the air and half of her body leaning toward a height of a hundred meters. She looked up at the airport. One of her hands was as crystal clear as jade, and next to it was a magic wand with a phoenix tail feather core.

The closed airport was reopened, street lamps and billboards were emitting colorful lights, and the lights of passing vehicles dragged out lines of light, weaving a gorgeous spider web at a glance. The sky of the airport was clear of clouds and mist, and the bright moonlight fell obliquely, falling on the ground and the glass exterior wall, like a light frost.

Bellatrix rarely observed Muggles carefully, let alone so many Muggles. She was even unwilling to look at the Mudbloods. After her sister Andromeda married a Mudblood, she was directly expelled from the entire family.

Now it seems that there is no difference between Muggle appearance and pure blood.

This mindset changed in Azkaban.

The entire Azkaban is filled with Dementors and criminals who have been tortured beyond recognition. Only occasionally can one see patrolling wizard guards every few months. When they are free from avoiding the Dementors, the remaining rational prisoners will gather on the rocky shore of Azkaban, looking into the distance, hoping to see some living things.

At that time, the ocean was boundless, just like the sky. Sometimes she felt that the sky and the ocean were actually connected. At this time, a ferry would slowly pass by. It was a huge steel ship of the Muggles, sometimes a passenger ship, but most of the time a cargo ship. When the weather was good, the crew and passengers stood on the deck, looking around, talking and laughing, and slowly sailed towards the land they could not see.

The lowly Muggles breathe the free air at will, while the pure-blood prisoners quietly wait for death.

"..."

There were two slight tremors in the air, and two figures appeared behind the witch, with the tips of their wands pointed directly at her heart.

"Bellatrix, put your weapons down."

"Give up resistance, come back with us to the Ministry of Magic to stand trial and confess your crimes." Rita Skeeter shouted at the Death Eaters in front of her, but subconsciously stepped back and hid behind the members of the Order of the Phoenix next to her. "The You-Know-Who has been completely eliminated, and the Death Eaters have all been arrested. You are a smart person, don't try to resist, hand in your wand and cooperate with us. I have a good relationship with Dumbledore, and when I return to the Ministry of Magic, I can plead with the Wizengamot to reduce your sentence appropriately.

“Don’t make the wrong choice. Even though there are only two of us, it’s enough to deal with you. Besides, there are Aurors from the Ministry of Magic and the MACUSA nearby. If you resist, I will notify them immediately. Those people are not as easy to talk to as I am.”

Bellatrix's lips curled up slightly in a sarcastic arc: "You still don't dare to call him by his name."

Rita Skeeter was not angered. "I didn't call him by his name not because I was afraid, but because of a habit. You guys have been on the run since Easter, and I have been blending in with you. Didn't he find me? The Dark Lord, Voldemort, was defeated, and not just once. When I return to England, I will definitely write a book to record his story in detail."

Bellatrix looked at the person next to her slowly with cold eyes.

She was a witch whose age could not be determined. She looked to be only about 30 years old, but her eyes were extremely weathered, as if she was already in her 70s or 80s. She had a strange aura about her, and she did not look like a wizard. Instead, she looked like some kind of wild beast, like... a python.

Bellatrix narrowed her eyes slightly, and said with some regret: "If the master had seen you earlier, he would have been very happy."

He has always been close to snakes, snake-related accessories, and snake-related black magic, especially poisonous, ferocious and magical snakes.

Nagini frowned, her wand glowed faintly, and she pointed at the Death Eaters sitting on the wall: "Bellatrix, your master has been killed, your accomplices have surrendered, give up resistance."

Bellatrix tilted her head and reached out to grab the wand beside her. Just as the two of them tensed their muscles and were fully alert, she suddenly jumped down and fell straight down.

"Bella..." Rita Skeeter hurried forward to take a look.

Nagini was even more agile. She reached the wall in the blink of an eye, grabbed the railing with one hand, twisted her waist and swung out a long tail, which hooked the falling Bellatrix and quickly wrapped around her body. She strangled her with a little force, knocked her unconscious, and quickly threw her back to the roof.

"boom."

The sound of the body falling to the ground was a little dull.

Rita blinked, looked at the unconscious Death Eater on the ground, then looked at Nagini, whose scaly tail quickly retracted into her skirt, her eyes calm.

She was a little stunned: "You are also an Animagus? Why can you use the transformation like this? Why didn't you tell me before..."

Nagini lowered her eyes, glanced at Bellatrix's lower abdomen, and sighed imperceptibly, with a complicated expression.

……

Maybe it was a long time later, maybe it was no time at all, Harry's consciousness gradually woke up from the chaos and he slowly opened his eyes.

He was lying in a bright mist. This mist was like steam, or like the silver light emitted by the Patronus Charm, with a faint glow. Everything he could see around him was silver mist, and the ground he was lying on was also silver mist, neither cold nor hot, neither soft nor hard.

He had seen this silver mist before. It did not exist in reality, but was just a conceptual thing, between illusion and reality, between life and death.

"A hazy fantasy..."

Harry thought of the promise his mother had made, and everything came together for him.

He sat up and checked his body. His limbs were intact and his facial features were normal, but he felt a little embarrassed to be naked. As soon as this thought came to his mind, a complete set of wizard robes immediately appeared and he put them on easily.

Harry stood up and began to explore his surroundings. Wherever his gaze reached, the silver mist condensed into scenery with shape. Sunlight began to shine, the ground began to solidify, and a bright and clean space was constructed.

The desolate silence was no longer in my ears, and subtle sounds began to be heard -

Weird thumping and whimpering noises.

Harry looked in the direction of the sound and found a naked child under a seat. The child's skin was rough and red, as if it had been skinned. The child was curled up on the ground and trembling. The child was so small and weak that one should have felt pity for him, but when Harry saw the child, he felt an uncontrollable disgust in his heart.

"Stay away from him."

A gentle voice sounded, and Lily Potter was walking towards him, smiling, walking briskly, and wearing a flowing long dress.

"Harry, you're such an outstanding child, such a brave man..." Lily opened her arms and made a hugging gesture. Her body was solid without any sign of transparency. "I said, we'll see each other again..."

Harry paused, then rushed over, feeling his mother's real and warm embrace, and his eyes became hot.

Lily stroked his back gently, as if comforting a baby: "I said, I said..."

"Am I dead?"

"I don't think so, my dear son." "There are still some things I don't understand."

"Then we can only wait until you wake up and ask Headmaster Dumbledore. Now let's go and see your father..."

The two men strode away from the red-skinned child lying there sobbing, and the voices they left behind quickly faded away.

The figures of the two gradually disappeared in the silver mist. The illusion constructed by Harry's soul gradually dissipated. The silver mist slowly obscured the sunlight and disappeared under the solid chair. The whimpering and crying of the red-skinned child also gradually stopped. Just when the silver mist was about to drown it, a figure walked in.

Dumbledore was wearing a flowing dark blue robe. He looked around curiously and muttered to himself:

“Well… this adventure isn’t quite what we thought it would be.

"We are not really dead, we are just visiting here for a short while.

"Oh yes, Fox, I know, I know..."

Dumbledore saw the thing under the seat. It looked like an abandoned child. Its skin was cracked and frozen in the severe blizzard. A layer of flesh had peeled off, revealing bloody flesh. The little thing was shivering and struggling to breathe.

The blue eyes were deep and bright, but there was no mercy in them.

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Dumbledore came and sat down next to the chair. The quiet silver mist flowed like a stream, blocked outside, as if there was only a small chair left in the huge world.

He calmly took out a black gem from his arms. There was a strange symmetrical mark on the surface of the gem, including triangles, circles and vertical lines, with a crack in the middle.

Placing the gem on the red-skinned child's forehead, the strange magical power surged and actually set off a raging storm.

The quietly flowing silver mist suddenly rolled up, and the wind whistled miserably, as if a storm was brewing, or like the howling of evil spirits.

There is no concept of time here. I don’t know how long it has been, but a dark blue ghost suddenly emerged from the silver mist, circled around the seat several times, and went straight into the body of the red-skinned child.

Dumbledore had a calm expression as he sat in his chair and waited quietly, pushing his half-moon glasses and stroking his long beard. When the time was almost up, he slowly took back the Resurrection Stone.

Seven mists penetrated into the child's body one after another. Every time a ghost merged into it, the child grew a little. When the seven ghosts were completely integrated, the child had completely turned into an adult, Tom Riddle.

This face was not the one created by the resurrection ceremony. The nose was still there, but the eyes were not as scarlet, not as snake-like, and not as handsome as in his student days. The face seemed to have been boiled in a crucible, with blurred and distorted features, bloodshot whites of the eyes, pale skin, and a black cloak.

Dumbledore looked relaxed and not surprised. These changes were obviously expected. "Good evening, Tom. Take a seat."

"Dumbledore..."

Voldemort stared at him coldly, with fine lines appearing on his body from time to time. This body was just a temporary gathering of several soul fragments, and there was a risk of collapse and shattering at any time: "Are you dead too?"

"I don't think so. I just used the magical power of the Phoenix Nirvana and Harry's wonderful soul state to come here for a visit."

A hidden red light flashed in Voldemort's eyes: "Why am I here?"

"Perhaps Loren's flame contains the magic of salvation, or perhaps your messy black magic worked, who knows?" Dumbledore smiled, "In short, you are trapped here, unable to go to the world of the dead, and unable to return to the world of the living. Your eyes cannot see the scene, your voice cannot be responded to, and this body is only pieced together by the magic of the Resurrection Stone. Your soul will be divided into pieces, and you will be tortured forever in emptiness and nothingness."

Cracks appeared all over Voldemort's body, and the figure of the red-skinned child kept flickering, appearing and disappearing.

He tried to remain calm, but he couldn't suppress his ferocious and hateful expression.

Roaring, whimpering, crying...

Different sounds emanated from this body.

"Quiet!"

Voldemort's scolding was like several overlapping voices, echoing in resonance. He spent a lot of effort to calm down, and looked at Dumbledore with a sinister look: "Why are you telling me this? What do you want?"

"After experiencing the death you once feared the most, I thought that perhaps you would change a little." Dumbledore sat beside him and observed his struggle quietly, his attitude almost close to indifference. "Perhaps you would want to repent for your past crimes and take some measures to make up for it."

"You want to trade with me?"

Voldemort narrowed his eyes and slowed down his speech, as if he had turned back into the omnipotent Dark Lord. "I'm already dead. What are you worried about? Or... what do you want?"

"Tell me the memories you got from Slytherin, about the future, about the prophecy."

"What can I get?"

"Hmm..." Dumbledore hesitated for a moment and said solemnly, "In this endless void, before you completely sink, I can occasionally chat with you."

"Maybe a lot of people want to talk to you, but I'm not one of them."

Voldemort looked gloomy, staring straight into those blue eyes, trying to find some hints of bargaining and blackmail: "You are worried about Mr. Morgan, the wise man who was born for a timely reason. You wonder why the great Merlin and the fairy Morgan chose him. You are curious about what Slytherin left behind... You should also know what I want?"

But Dumbledore did not respond, his gentle and calm eyes were almost cold.

Voldemort sneered: "If you cannot meet my conditions, I would rather you die in endless regret. Then maybe we can meet again!"

Dumbledore looked at him for a moment through his half-moon lenses and said calmly, "Goodbye, Tom."

Just when Voldemort wanted to say something else, Dumbledore suddenly waved his sleeves, and his wide sleeves swept across the body, and the ghosts and children inside suddenly collapsed.

The quiet space became lively again, silver mist rolled, the hazy illusion flickered and trembled, the ghosts uttered sobs, resentful curses, and hysterical roars, all kinds of sounds intertwined together, making a mournful resonance.

Without looking back, Dumbledore stepped into the fog.

(End of this chapter)