Hogwarts: This professor is too Muggle.

Chapter 219 The Birds Are Free

The magical torture device that the Purifiers had scoured through their ancestors' treasure trove, crafted using ancient magic and alchemy, and capable of imprisoning the Obscurial's collar, was now broken in two, lying quietly on the lawn, its neatly severed edges emitting a faint glow.

The situation unfolded in a way that surprised everyone. The little girl stared blankly at the broken rings on the ground. Her eyes were no longer empty; a strange light shone from her pupils, turning into a dazzling azure blue.

Gravis suddenly noticed that the loud gunfire had stopped. Sometime earlier, the stubborn cult members had stopped firing, and the surrounding grass had become quiet, a tranquility enveloping everyone.

A cloaked figure appeared on the lawn, accompanied by a crackling sound that reverberated through the air. The sound was crisp but not shrill, proving his superb apparition skills. Standing in front of the group of cultists, he proved that he was a descendant of the Purifiers and the dark wizard of the Second Salem.

"Bastad, pick up the collar."

The dark wizard turned to look at the little girl, his face hidden behind his hood, his expression unreadable. "Good girl, be a good girl. You know what kind of punishment those who disobey will receive."

Bastard, a lowly bastard?

Melvin and Grevis realized at the same time that this was the dark wizard who tamed the Obscurus.

Under everyone's gaze, the little girl shrank back, her body trembling unconsciously from the fear deep in her bones. She sniffed, as if to defend herself, or as if to herself: "I didn't disobey."

"Then pick up the collars and tear these people to shreds!" the dark wizard demanded, his anger making him impatient. "Don't argue with me. If you can't carry out my orders immediately, that's disobedience, and disobedient slaves deserve punishment! Do you want to end up like your mother?"

The little girl stubbornly argued, "Mommy didn't disobey either."

"Execute orders! Otherwise, a weak slave like you will be whipped to death in just a few strokes..."

The little girl stood there, her deep blue eyes filled with a sorrowful reminiscence. That winter, her mother had died under the whip.

While everyone else was celebrating Christmas, her mother came back from working in the kitchen and hid a small piece of candy in her sleeve. It was a small piece that she had saved from making bread. Then the people found it and she was whipped.

It didn't die immediately, but the winter was too cold, the wound couldn't heal, it slowly turned black and oozed foul-smelling fluid, and it died when the snow melted.

The little girl pursed her lips, unwilling to listen anymore or argue. She looked down at the sheepdog and the baby snake, forcing a faint smile to express her gratitude.

"I will remember you all."

The little girl closed her eyes, probably trying to smile, but glistening tears welled up in her eyes. She tried to smile but couldn't stop the tears from flowing. She seemed unsure whether to laugh or cry, and before she knew it, her face was covered in tears.

Centered on her, the wasteland lawn in the cemetery suddenly began to shake, and a whirlwind rose out of thin air. In just a few seconds, a tornado slowly began to rotate.

The sky was filled with heavy, leaden clouds, hanging down like an inverted funnel, swirling in circles with the wind.

Melvin, who witnessed the whole process, said softly, "The bird is free."

The tornado roared and took shape almost instantly, stirring the surrounding grassland into undulating waves. The sheepdogs' fur clung tightly to their bodies, the wizards' robes fluttered in the wind, and the armed cultists were blown about, forced to huddle together, almost being swept into the air.

The little girl disappeared, dissipating into a thick black mist.

A raging wind carrying black mist swept through, enveloping everyone. In the distance, waves of grass rippled, and the ground beneath their feet trembled and cracked, as if the entire world was shaking. Melvin had never encountered this kind of magic before, so he neither fled immediately nor acted rashly.

Melvin stood firm in the gale, his robes billowing in the wind, motionless, holding his wand out in one hand to create a shield of armor, protecting himself and Grevis.

At this moment, the bubble membrane no longer disappears into the air, but shimmers with brilliant golden light, like armor forged from gold.

The dark wizard on the other side also tried to activate the Ironclad Spell, but the surging convection winds gave him no chance. Before he could even chant the spell, his wand broke in two, and his cloak was torn apart inch by inch.

Only the sheepdog and the baby snake, located in a few square feet seemingly in the eye of the storm, were swept away by the strong winds and remained unharmed.

The dog hair clung to her body in the wind, as if the little girl were stroking their fur and scales, fulfilling the promise she had just made, and remembering them.

Mr. Grevis's pupils contracted as he watched. He was a veteran Auror with extensive dueling experience and had fought dark wizards at close range countless times in the past, but he was still shaken to his core and could hardly speak at the sight.

Woolworth Hall didn't have a legendary wizard like Dumbledore. When Dumbledore and Grindelwald had their legendary duel, Dumbledore was too young to witness it. At Ilvermorny, the professors each had their own strengths; dueling wasn't a major subject. There were occasional dueling lessons, but the duels between professors were merely instructional exercises, and their intensity was rather low.

On the contrary, the atmosphere of dueling was more intense at home. The father was a stubborn security chief who had never slacked off since the New York incident and had been reflecting deeply on his mistakes for decades. The mother was the president of Congress, who was exceptionally talented and powerful.

Their existence already puts them at the pinnacle of ordinary wizards. Grevis had watched their dueling practice since childhood and believed he had witnessed real wizard duels, but he had never seen anything like this.

The entire world seemed to belong to them. Silently, they transformed into black mist, stirring up the wind and clouds, like demons who had escaped from hell. Melvin stood motionless in the whirlwind, his robes fluttering, his shield gleaming, like a god.

Grevis looked up at the sky, his lips moving but he couldn't speak. The dark wizard had been swept into the air, his body swaying and floating in the black mist, his bones cracking and his skin being torn, revealing his face, which was covered in blood.

If this continues, it will definitely lead to a murder!

Just as Grevis was about to speak, Melvin gestured for him to be quiet and said calmly, "That dark wizard is still conscious. He cast a levitation spell on himself and is stalling for time while waiting for an opportunity."

Grevis's eyes widened; this seasoned Auror hadn't even noticed: "But..."

"Shh, don't disturb this Silent Serpent. The next period is crucial for her transformation."

Melvin noticed Mr. Auror's puzzled expression, paused briefly, and, having nothing better to do, patiently explained, "This Obscurus has gone through something, accumulating profound despair at such a young age, yet without much anger or resentment. Now, suddenly freed, not blinded by hatred, its emotions have triggered a transformation in its soul, unconsciously releasing power. It's not intentionally attacking anyone; we, like the grass over there, are simply affected by this power."

The soul is the source of magic. Even though the power of the Obscurus is a distorted and alienated form of magic, it is still closely related to the soul and remains an outward manifestation of the wizard's will.

Melvin looked up at the black, misty tornado that blotted out the sky and said softly:

"Once she adapts to this state and her soul stabilizes again, she might be able to control this power."

The grass around the whirlwind was almost uprooted, and fallen leaves, pebbles and soil fell like arrows, hitting the golden shield wall and making a crisp metallic sound. The wind grew more and more fierce, and when it howled, it sounded like the wailing of a banshee, which made people shudder.

Even the black wizard, suspended in mid-air, couldn't hold on any longer. The spun stones in the wind were like a meat grinder; if he kept going, he would turn into fertilizer and remain here.

The spare wand strapped to his hand wobbled with difficulty, and the dark wizard's body began to soar in the wind, swaying left and right, rising up and down. He captured several surviving cult members, and by the time Grevis noticed them gathered together, the dark wizard was already looking at his old boots.

“Melvin! Melvin!” Grevis called out.

The heels of the two boots collided, and the raging black mist tornado nearby seemed to slow down suddenly. The arrow-like whistling rocks and grass roots also temporarily stopped. A suction force surged from the heels, swallowing the black wizard and several cult members, and taking them away on the spot.

"The door key! Damn it, it's the door key again!" Grevis gritted his teeth in anger.

The boot-shaped key led the group of criminals to escape once again. "Activating the key in an unstable space, hopefully their landing points aren't too far apart, and that no pebbles get stuck in their brains or spines." Melvin looked up at the ripples left by the spatial magic; the passage opened by the key not only took away the criminals but also some rubble.

Grevis fell silent upon hearing this, quietly watching the raging black fog outside.

The tornado's vortex seemed to be slowly shrinking, and the raging black mist also slowed down, revealing blurry outlines that appeared to be two eyes.

Grevis wanted to talk to her, but he couldn't say anything. Her eyes stared at them for a few minutes before slowly disappearing into the thick fog. Then the black fog gradually dissipated, revealing a clear blue sky.

Grevis looked around but couldn't find any trace of the little girl. He only saw the broken collar and was overwhelmed with mixed feelings.

"Silence is sometimes invisible."

Grevis remarked that this was the information they had mentioned on the subway.

The sheepdog crouched there, trembling, its ears drooping and whimpering softly. Yulm leaned close to its ear to comfort it patiently. Melvin sighed, went over and cleaned the mud off the two little guys. The show was over, and everyone was left empty-handed.

"Even when she was unconscious, she was thinking about two animals. How bad could a little girl be?" Grevis walked over, his tone still unconvinced. Perhaps the girl didn't know how to face them, or perhaps she didn't want to face them.

Melvin looked up and glanced at him: "What you should be considering is that there's a silent one wandering around Paris right now."

Grevis paused for a moment, his eyes gradually becoming vacant.

He seemed to have already seen the headline of The Ghost:

"From New York to Paris, Grevis has once again plunged cities into crisis!"

……

Place de la Trette, 18th arrondissement of Paris.

A folk magician was performing on the street, dressed in a black tuxedo with a cape, wearing a top hat, and his snow-white gloves were particularly eye-catching in the sunlight. He spoke English with an accent, and because his stall was filled with dolls and candy, it attracted many tourists with children to stop and watch.

"How amazing... there's a little bird inside the hat..."

The children's chattering voices spread out, and the children in short sleeves stared wide-eyed at the white doves that flew out of their hats, their expressions full of amazement.

"If you believe, miracles will happen." The young magician smiled gently. "Children, does any of you believe in magic?"

"me!"

The child who shouted the loudest was chosen. He stepped forward with great joy, reached into his hat, and instead of finding a white dove, pulled out a handful of candy. He immediately grinned from ear to ear.

The other children immediately looked on with envy, eagerly standing on tiptoe and raising their hands, wishing they could shout themselves hoarse.

It's not that I'm craving candy, it's just that I want to experience magic.

Then another little girl was chosen. She had messy, long brown hair and when she smiled, she showed her two front teeth, like a beaver in a zoo.

"Little friend, do you believe in magic?"

Hermione frowned. "I'm already 13 years old."

“Alright…” The young magician rubbed his nose and reluctantly handed over the top hat. “Miss, do you believe in magic?”

"Of course!" The voice was clear and the answer decisive.

The young magician was speechless for a moment, realizing he was still just a child: "Then, young lady, what do you want to draw?"

“I can touch a white dove.”

The magician tossed his magic hat, thinking the young lady was going to be disappointed. It was a prop meant to interact with children; inside was only the pigeon for the opening performance, and the rest were candies and small toys.

He smiled and said, "Good luck, ma'am."

Hermione reached into the magic hat, her bright eyes darting around, and after a few pretend rummages, she pulled out a white dove.

The magician's eyes widened, and he even began to doubt himself, wondering if he had made a mistake when preparing the props. Looking around at the children watching, he saw another wave of amazement, their eyes filled with envy.

The little witch instantly raised her chin, tossed her hair triumphantly, and exited amidst cheers.

Traces? What traces?
The Reasonable Restraint Act for Minors is British law, so why should it apply to witches in France?

Does France also have relevant regulations?

Why should a little witch from Hogwarts obey French law?

After leaving the magic stall, Hermione looked around and saw that her mother was still picking out hand-painted postcards, while her father was waiting in line at the ice cream stand. There were three people ahead of her, and she would probably have to wait a few more minutes for her strawberry ice cream.

Bored, I looked around and suddenly saw a thin figure in front of the magic stall. It was only about three feet tall. It was the hot summer month of July, but the clothes it was wearing were inappropriate and it looked malnourished. However, its eyes were very bright.

Her eyes were fixed on the magician's hat, and they shone even brighter whenever someone pulled out candy.

For some reason, Hermione remembered that year on her birthday, when she stood outside the Quidditch pitch, watching others practice with longing eyes, and then two professors walked across the long path to her.

Hermione went over, looked down at the little girl, and asked with a smile, "There are two pockets in the hat. The left one has toys, and the right one has candy. You can get them even if you don't believe in magic. Do you want to give it a try?"

“I believe in magic,” the little girl said slowly, her eyes fixed on her right hand, which had just pulled out a white dove that wasn’t in her hat.

"Then you should definitely give it a try! Maybe you can find a white dove too!" Hermione encouraged.

The little girl shook her head and licked the dry skin off her lips: "I just want candy."

"There's candy in your right pocket, go try it," Hermione advised with pity. She started thinking about Professor Levent; if he were here, he would surely be able to pull out an endless supply of candy from his pocket.

It's a pity I didn't learn this skill.

(End of this chapter)