Hogwarts: Starting with full Unforgivable Curses

Within the beam of light, countless dust particles swirled and danced, like disturbed spirits of the dead. Deep within the hall, figures shrouded in black cloaks stood silently. Even with the sun generously pouring down, the hall offered no warmth, only a chilling cold permeating the air. These cloaked figures stood side-by-side, their tall silhouettes casting deep shadows on the ground, not only blocking part of the beam of light but also completely severing the last vestiges of life from those before them. Like indifferent spectators watching a gladiatorial contest, their eyes beneath their cloaks gleamed with a cruel and excited light as they stared intently at the brutal battle between the two Muggles in the center of the hall.

The fight was drawing to a close, the outcome a foregone conclusion. A tall, middle-aged man lay sprawled on the cold stone floor, his chest heaving violently. His face, stained with dust and blood, was contorted with pain and despair. A young girl huddled against him, her expression twisted like that of a wild, out-of-control beast. Her disheveled hair clung to her blood-soaked face as she frantically bit at the man's cheek. The sound of teeth tearing flesh was jarring and chilling in the silent hall.

The middle-aged man's eyes had long lost their former luster, becoming cloudy and empty. Only a weak instinct drove him to utter his final call, his voice hoarse and broken, carrying the breath of impending death.

However, the intermittent calls abruptly ceased as his last breath dissipated, and life completely drained from his body. The young girl, covered in blood, remained prostrate on the man's corpse, her back arched, limbs on the ground, like a wild beast that had not yet filled its stomach, emitting low moans from her throat, her eyes warily scanning her surroundings, ready to attack any approaching target at any moment.

"That's right, the materials from this dog can fetch a good price."

The cloaked figures whispered in agreement, and the dark atmosphere in the hall grew even heavier. A huge conspiracy targeting Muggles and the wizarding world was quietly brewing in this abandoned mansion.

"Should we go back to the same restaurant for lunch tonight, or try something new?" Ron rubbed his hands together, his voice full of anticipation, his eyes sparkling as he looked at everyone. "The crème brûlée at that restaurant was absolutely delicious, but with so many restaurants in Paris, maybe there are even better dishes waiting for us to discover!"

“I think it would be nice to try other restaurants.” Harry turned around, his gaze slowly sweeping over everyone around him, and asked for their opinions in a calm tone. “Eating at the same place all the time can get monotonous. What do you all think? If anyone wants to go back to that place, we can go with the majority.”

"Wait a minute! Look over there!" Before he could finish speaking, he suddenly changed the subject, pointing sharply at the Eiffel Tower not far away, his voice filled with undisguised surprise, "The tower is lit up! Look up!"

Following the direction Harry pointed, everyone was instantly drawn to the sight before them. The Eiffel Tower, which had been gradually blurring in the twilight, was now radiating a soft red light, as if enveloped in a warm halo, making it particularly striking against the darkening sky.

"Merlin's slightly smelly red underwear!" Ron gasped, his eyes widening as he frantically searched for the right words to describe it. His voice was filled with shock. "Is this Muggle magic? How else could it make such a huge steel tower glow? And such a uniform red color at that!"

“I almost forgot about that!” Hermione clapped her hands and said with a sudden realization, “It’s not magic, it’s light bulbs installed on the steel structure of the tower! I’ve seen it mentioned in Muggle books before. Every day after sunset, these light bulbs light up on time, creating a unique spectacle.”

Fred and George whistled loudly at the same time, their faces full of excitement. "Red lights against a steel structure, that's so cool!" Fred couldn't help but say, his eyes fixed on the glowing iron tower, unwilling to look away.

Hermione frowned, trying to recall the details from the book, and gently shook her head: "That's not right. I remember the description said that the lights of the Eiffel Tower should be golden, so why do they look red now?" She paused, then quickly found a reasonable explanation: "It must be because it's not completely dark yet, and the lights have only just started to come on and haven't reached their brightest point. Plus, the steel of the Eiffel Tower itself is dark brown, so the two colors combined make it look red."

“It’s as if an invisible blacksmith is forging this enormous steel tree in the night.” Luna stood to the side, her eyes seemingly tinged with a faint red glow from the tower’s red light. She spoke softly, her tone poetic, “Those lights are the firelight from the forging process, gradually warming and illuminating the cold steel.”

As time ticked by, the sky grew darker and darker, and the night, like a giant black velvet curtain, slowly enveloped the entire city of Paris. Meanwhile, the light emanating from the Eiffel Tower grew brighter and more dazzling. Just as Luna had said, it seemed as if it were truly enveloped by the high temperature, its color changing from an initial orange-red to a dazzling orange-yellow, and finally to a brilliant golden yellow.

As night falls completely, the Eiffel Tower undergoes a complete transformation, radiating a warm and bright golden glow. The light, like a flowing galaxy, spreads along every steel support of the tower, illuminating the surrounding night sky as bright as day. Nearby pedestrians, roadside buildings, and even the pebbles on the ground are all gilded with a luxurious golden edge by this golden light, making them appear exceptionally dreamlike.

"My God, this design is so interesting!" Fred jumped up excitedly, pointing at the Eiffel Tower and shouting, "It's a natural inspiration for fireworks designs!"

George nodded repeatedly, his eyes gleaming with fervor, and chimed in, "Our magic fireworks finally have a new, amazing design! If we design it like the Eiffel Tower now, it's sure to be a huge hit!"

Fred spread his arms and gestured towards the glowing Eiffel Tower, as if he had already sketched out the prototype of fireworks in his mind: "We can make the fireworks into the outline of the Eiffel Tower, and after lighting them, they will first bloom with red light, and then slowly turn golden yellow, just like the scene we see now!"

"Once we finish making these fireworks, we're definitely going to sell them in the magical world of France!" George's voice was full of anticipation. "We'll definitely make a fortune in Galleons, and maybe we can even establish a long-term partnership with a magical shop in France!"

Fleur Delacour stood to the side, watching the brothers' excited expressions. A rare look of interest appeared on her face, and a faint smile appeared on her lips: "That's a very creative idea. Your magic fireworks are indeed very interesting. Once the finished product is made, remember to let me see the effect."

As night fell, the golden Eiffel Tower stood silently, its warm light illuminating everyone's smiling faces. A relaxed and joyful atmosphere filled the air, temporarily dispelling the earlier worries about dark magical creatures. Dinner ended pleasantly at a charming French-style restaurant. While savoring the delicious escargot and red wine chicken, they discussed their upcoming itinerary. Considering the memorable moments of their Paris trip—the Eiffel Tower's beauty day and night, the unique structure of the Ministry of Magic, and their upcoming visit to Pierre Bonac-Courde—Sirius slapped his thigh and suggested, "We need to find something to instantly capture these moments!" He then led everyone to a nearby Muggle department store. After browsing the electronics section, they bought a brand-new Polaroid camera and stocked up on several boxes of photographic paper. Ron fiddled with the Polaroid, taking a test shot in the window. Watching the image slowly emerge on the screen, his eyes were filled with wonder: "This Muggle gadget is really interesting! It reacts much faster than magical photos!"

Then, led by Fleur Delacour, Dylan and his group passed through several bustling streets and turned into a quiet alley. The alley was lined with mottled stone walls, with sparse vines climbing the corners. The night breeze brought a touch of coolness. Fleur stopped and gestured for everyone to stay where they were, while she took a step forward and raised her wand.

With a slight twitch of her fingertips, she silently chanted a short incantation. A few seconds later, accompanied by a crisp, loud "snap," a soft white light shone in the center of the alley. When the light faded, a wizard appeared before everyone. He was an elderly wizard with wrinkles of varying depths on his face, as if etched with the marks of time. He carried an old leather suitcase with worn edges, which looked quite old.

He wore a dark blue cotton robe, the style of which was quite similar to the standard robes he had seen at the French Ministry of Magic, only the material was lighter. After landing, the old wizard's gaze slowly swept over Dylan and his group, first showing a scrutinizing look, then recognizing Fleur. His face immediately lit up with a warm smile, and he began to speak fluent French, engaging in a lively conversation with Fleur.

The conversation between the two did not last long. Fleur quickly turned around and looked at Dylan and the others, saying, "We are going to Pierre Bonacoud Village. It will cost each person ten silver shicos to take this teleportation network."

"Oh, by the way, would you like a souvenir?" she continued, as if suddenly remembering something. "If each person is willing to pay an extra four silver sikes, they can get a personalized souvenir. The souvenir is like this..."

As he spoke, the old wizard put down the leather case in his hand, opened the clasp, and took out an exquisite brass pocket watch.

The pocket watch had a small and exquisite dial with delicate patterns engraved on the edges. The surface was spotless and could clearly reflect a person's image. He passed the pocket watch around for everyone to look at. The pocket watch was not light and was cool to the touch, obviously made of high-quality metal.

"This souvenir looks quite nice; the workmanship is exquisite." Sirius took the pocket watch, weighed it in his hand, stroked his chin, and asked, "Is it a one-time offer, or can I get several as needed?"

"I...I want as many as I want...any of them!" Upon hearing Sirius's words, the old wizard's eyes instantly brightened, his previously somewhat cloudy eyes sparkling with delight. He immediately switched to broken Common Tongue, asking somewhat hastily, "Sir, you mean...one for each...everyone?"

“That’s right!” Sirius readily pulled a heavy money pouch from his pocket and tossed it over. “There should be enough silver coins in here. Count them yourself!”

"Ohlalalalalala!" The old wizard caught the money bag, felt its weight, and his face instantly lit up with a delighted smile. He exclaimed repeatedly, his tone even more excited than when the restaurant hostess met everyone. With a dexterity far beyond his years, he quickly opened the money bag and began to count the money, his fingers deftly flipping through the silver coins.

"Sirius..." Frank Longbottom watched this scene and couldn't help but want to say something—after all, buying so many souvenirs at once must have cost quite a bit.

"It's nothing, it's nothing!" Sirius waved his hand dismissively. "You know my situation, this amount of money is nothing to me. It's rare for us all to travel together, the most important thing is to have fun, and it's good to have a souvenir to remember us by!"

"Happy! So happy!" The old wizard had finished counting the silver coins, and his smile was like a blooming flower. Even the wrinkles at the corners of his eyes smoothed out, making him look exceptionally radiant. As if afraid that Sirius might suddenly change his mind, he moved very quickly, taking out more than a dozen identical brass pocket watches from the suitcase in one go, distributing them to everyone, and then quickly finding change and handing it back to Sirius.

“Welcome…welcome to France!” He picked up his suitcase, bowed deeply to the crowd, and said with gratitude, “Have a pleasant journey and all the best!” As soon as he finished speaking, there was another loud “bang” sound, like an explosion, and the old wizard’s figure instantly turned into a white light and disappeared into the alley in the blink of an eye, leaving only a faint magical aura.

Harry, Ron, and the others looked at each other, holding the pocket watch, their faces showing surprise.

“He’s running way too fast!” Ron couldn’t help but say. “It’s like he’s afraid we’ll return the pocket watch.”

Sirius Black fiddled with the pocket watch in his hand, then looked at Fleur and asked, "Miss Delacour, is this pocket watch the key to teleportation? How do we use it? Do we just open the lid?"

Fleur Delacour looked at Sirius's impatient expression with a hint of helplessness, sighed softly, and raised the pocket watch in her hand.

“Mr. Blake, there’s no need to open the lid.” (End of Chapter)