The Evil Thoughts of Hogwarts and the Genie

Chapter 101 Avada Kedavra!

On Christmas Day, in the second-floor cell of Nurmengard.

"Mr. Fass."

The English wizard named Barufeo always stared at him with those clear eyes, asking him timidly with longing in his eyes:

"When will I be able to go home?"

That's a good question, because Gerard didn't know the answer. So he just watched him silently until Barufeo turned and left, seemingly helpless, before Gerard seriously considered the question.

By the way, having helped his master fulfill two wishes—Gerald has redeemed nearly two-thirds of his soul, he is indeed able to think independently now, but his long-unused brain is filled with extremely negative content.

For example, home.

Before Barufio mentioned the word, Gerard could hardly recall ever having a home. This was not surprising—his parents were dead, and he had no wife or children; where was "home"?

However, Gerald now had hope. He was only one-third of his soul away from being freed. If he could fulfill just one more wish of his master, Gerald would regain his freedom and become a complete human again. How could he not yearn for freedom?

He was terrified of his master and terrified of the genie.

If he were a little smarter, he would have figured it out: since the genie has so many batteries, why should he only use him? He could assign the next wish to another battery, and Gerald would have to keep working for him.

It's both right and wrong.

The number "3" is magical, and there's no doubt that the genie is quite obsessed with it.

He has three magical artifacts, which can be used to obtain souls by granting three wishes. The souls are then sealed in a 33cm long brass vessel. There are many similar "designs." In short, since the genie grants the servant's three wishes by asking again, it is usually difficult for the genie to make a rational choice and randomly select another person to start over.

Moreover, this "wish" is particularly suitable for Gerald to make—but how exactly should he manipulate the other party? The third of the genie's soul that remained in Gerald's body let out a snicker.

The genie stirred up memories, reminding the pitiful prodigal son of his former home. He once had a father, Oscar...

He was killed by Soman; he had a close uncle who betrayed him at the last moment, becoming a supporter of the Soman family and stealing the keys to the Fass family's vault.

How tragic.

A cool breeze brushed against Gerald's back. His own voice murmured helplessly: "This is so pathetic, all of this..."

Everything I had has been completely consumed.

The long-lost emotions made Gerald tremble uncontrollably. He instinctively wanted to resist, but he had long been numb with despair.

His hatred was so piercing, mixed with a kind of resolute determination similar to his father's: he wanted revenge, he wanted those damned bastards to pay the price.

Was this really his own idea? Gerrard couldn't tell either, but what did it matter?

When his master gave him the order to "kill Oscar Somann, who was living at the Somann estate in Berlin, Germany, on Christmas Day, 1971," Gerard had no recollection that his master was the son of old Somann. He felt a long-lost surge of ecstasy, though it seemed highly suspicious that the joy had no lingering effect, but Gerard didn't care about such things now.

Two silent jailers brought him a suitable robe, and after Gerald changed, he subconsciously glanced at the water in his glass.

But all they saw was a haggard male wizard, his face bearing a strange neuroticism, bearing no trace of the carefree playboy he once was.

Gerrard knew it was time for him to hit the road.

But as he stepped out of his unlocked cell, Barufeo approached him again, the English wizard smiling eagerly and ingratiatingly, and cautiously asked:

"I know I might not be able to go home anytime soon, Fass."

Scrooge Barufeo blinked frantically, looking utterly honest.

"But you—you're going home now, at least you—you can go home, right?"

Gerald Fass stared at Barufio, who was completely clueless and had indeed been a law-abiding citizen before being tricked into Azkaban.

After staring for a while, he finally twitched the corner of his mouth and forced an ugly smile:

"Yes, I'm going home."

Upon hearing this, Balfeo, unaware that he had just left Azkaban and entered Nurmengard, seemed to breathe a sigh of relief. Phos didn't care what misunderstandings he had made; in any case, he would never return here.

"Okay, okay—bless you, Phos! You're a good man! Goodbye!"

goodbye?

Gerald left Nurmengard and Apparated away. The route was similar to before, but this time his destination was not England, but his former home.

When Gerald burst into Fass House, only the house-elf noticed his arrival. The little creature pounced on him excitedly, only to be pushed aside. He seemed to be just passing by his screaming niece, paying no heed.

Gerald knocked his aunt unconscious and saw her slumped in her favorite chair. Gerald paused for a moment, but ultimately left her alone.

Where is my uncle? Where did he go?

"Crushed to pieces!"

Gerald dodged the spell, and a surge of anger—a real rage—suddenly exploded, filling his chest.

"Heart-crushing! Heart-crushing!" Gerald cried out, feeling nauseous from the tearing pain of his own magic. But he tormented his only blood relative, whose temples were now gray, for a while before reciting the next incantation:

"The soul leaves the body."

Gerald indifferently directed his uncle to wipe his tear-streaked face clean, and then found the invitation with the one-time-use key attached.

The declining Fass family was not qualified to be invited. However, the new head of the Fass family had sold his own nephew to curry favor with Minister Soman, so it was not appropriate to treat them like stray dogs on the street.

Gerald had no objection. He put his arm around his uncle's shoulder affectionately, just as he had when he was a boy, and started the door key.

Thanks to the fact that the Soman family was still relatively new to the world, there were no alchemical artifacts set up outside the manor to test dark magic. Considering that there were already double-digit failed attempts to assassinate old Mr. Soman, and many wizards had died on the spot, he was probably so confident that he didn't think anyone could withstand even half a move from him.

Gerald greeted his uncle warmly and walked into the manor. The Fass family was so marginalized that no one even remembered his uncle had no sons. Gerald walked straight in, turning left and right until he arrived at the main hall.

His purpose was very simple, so he completely disregarded the tense atmosphere in the main hall. Gerald only had eyes for old Soman's old face—"Avada Kedavra!"