The Evil Thoughts of Hogwarts and the Genie

Chapter 74 His Name

Scrooge Barufeo had a nightmare.

In his dream, he returned to that mysterious black forest, and the "red songs" sung by Albanian flaxseeds seemed to still echo in his ears. The weather was warm and pleasant, which made him, an Englishman, feel very uncomfortable.

But he really liked the place. The people there—mostly Muggles—were all very welcoming. More importantly, he made a friend there.

He was a tall, slender, and handsome wizard with a pale complexion. Even the faint dark scars that stretched upwards from his neck did not diminish his charm.

The man spoke elegantly, his manner haughty yet not arrogant. Barufeo suspected he was a Slytherin—nothing more—but after hearing his surname, the man became noticeably more polite and less dismissive than before.

This filled Barufeo with a mixture of pride and distress. The purpose of his journey was to prove to his family, friends, and teachers that he was worthy of replacing the pitiful and laughable "Buffalo Barufeo" and becoming the new representative of the Barufeo family. He wanted to ensure his children wouldn't suffer the ridicule of their classmates because of Professor Flitwick's admonitions.

Well, he didn't mean to complain about Professor Flitwick. Even he himself had to admit that many people in Barufeo's family were very proud to have such a "celebrity" in their family. Only a few people minded this matter like he did.

He wasn't the type to wallow in self-pity. He figured that since things were like this, then becoming the next family celebrity himself would eliminate any worries and make everything alright!

The goal is good. But what kind of great thing would it take to replace an educational joke?

Only Merlin knew how many young wizards Professor Flitwick had warned by using his family name to be careful with their spells. To be more famous than Buffalo Balfio was easier said than done!

When he shared this trouble with his new friend, the other person gave him a mocking look, as if he were ridiculing him for being so naive.

Even so, Barufio couldn't get angry, because this elegant and capable wizard actually said he was willing to help him restore the Barufio family's reputation! This seemed incredibly appealing to Scrooge Barufio, who had only recently graduated.

This is truly a wonderful thing!

Although they hadn't known each other for long, Barufeo had a feeling that the other person must be an important figure!

He had only known the other person for less than a week when he began to feel deeply honored that the other person was willing to condescend to befriend someone as insignificant as himself.

That was the beginning of the tragedy. Barufeo could hardly remember what happened after that. Even the slightest recollection filled him with terror, making him wish he were dead; the mere thought of his "friend's" hissing sound made him scream and wail.

In his hazy state, he vaguely heard someone snort coldly and ask in a hoarse, dry voice:

"Still not awake? That's impossible." The man poked him as if with a magic wand. "Kid, don't pretend to be asleep."

"My master has something to tell you."

Balfeo woke up. For a long while, he couldn't quite grasp his situation. After nearly a minute of stunned silence, he remembered that he was imprisoned in Azkaban because he had brutally murdered several Muggles with a Summoning Charm. The thought made him tremble uncontrollably. His mind was in a jumbled mess, preventing him from thinking any further.

This angered the people who had gone through so much trouble to get him out. Gerard kicked Barufeo to the ground.

A day earlier, this would have almost killed Balfeo. He was practically a walking corpse. Balfeo wasn't the kind of truly vicious criminal; he had already been tortured to the point of near death by the Dementors.

But now, despite being frightened by Gerard's kick, Barufeo wasn't injured. Even he himself was surprised. As for the reason, he said, "I... I can walk now, right?"

The prisoner who shared a cell with Barufio asked tremblingly, his expression terrified and his voice fawning:

"You...you promised that as long as I wished for this kid to get better, you wouldn't let me look for that damn stone and you'd let me go—"

"He is indeed awake. Sir, may I leave now?"

Gerard didn't even glance at the prisoner; he stared at Barufeo and muttered to himself:

"You're so lucky."

"grown ups--"

"Get out!"

Upon hearing this, the fugitive gave a pathetic smile and ran out of the Gaunt mansion without looking back. Just as he slammed the door shut, a scream suddenly rang out.

This wasn't Gerald discarding the fugitive after he had served his purpose; the lucky escapee had indeed fled to a new world. After all, in Edmund's calculations, he did need a living witness to relay messages, thereby completely disrupting the situation and making it easier for him to continue fishing in troubled waters.

Therefore, the scream actually came from inside the house. The dazed Balfeo was also startled by the sound and subconsciously looked into the depths of the Gaunt old house, only to see an old wall.

"Mr. Barufeo, you didn't notice anything unusual, did you?"

A relaxed, slightly childish male voice asked. Barufeo, still confused, nodded in surprise. "This is interesting. To be honest, even in my best-case scenario, I never expected things to turn out this interesting."

The leisurely voice carried a hint of amusement, but immediately afterwards, screams erupted from the old Gaunt mansion.

"...What's going on?" Barufeo asked weakly, turning his head to try and find the child who had spoken.

He couldn't find anything, of course, but fortunately Edmund was in high spirits and was happy to help him.

"Oh, that's a little hard to understand. I'll try to keep it short."

"This was the Gaunt family's private residence. They had some lineage, but now their bloodline is extinct. As you can see, this place has become a gloomy and terrifying haunted house."

"As for why there were screams echoing down this corridor, haha, that doesn't seem like magic the Gaunt father and son could use. Judging from the information on paper, they seem to be ridiculously incompetent pure-blood wizards. Therefore, someone must have completely remodeled this old house after they died."

Barufeo swallowed hard, looking puzzled, with an expression that suggested he wanted to ask but dared not.

"Please forgive me for skipping the point. Considering your pitiful state just now, I've kindly left you some room to think—based on my judgment, someone has cast a clever spell here, designing a terrifying corridor that only 'thieves' can find."

"And I just asked some kind people to help me find something."

Before he could finish speaking, Barufeo's vision blurred, and he was shocked to find that the old wall at the end of his line of sight seemed to have shed an outer membrane, revealing the "corridor" behind it.

Even though the children's voices had given him some mental preparation, when he actually saw the corpses scattered all over the ground, Barufeo's first reaction was still to scream.

Edmund, lurking in Gerald's consciousness, was somewhat confused.

"Your reaction is really unlike that of a tough guy who can practice the Summoning Charm using Muggles."

"However, that's not important right now. Thank you for helping to verify another possibility. It seems that the trigger condition for this corridor is the awareness that there is something to look for."

"This is truly ingenious—and it's increasingly unlike a trap that the Gaunt father and son could have conceived of."

Barufeo couldn't comprehend the child's calm demeanor at all. To the incredibly unlucky Ravenclaw, the scene before him was utterly hell!

"He, they—how could they—"

The poor fellow's voice trembled; he was utterly at a loss.

"Pfft, you've missed way too much, I'm too lazy to explain."

"Gerald, now that you've regained some of your consciousness, why don't you take over the work?"

Upon hearing this, Gerald, who had been silent all along, trembled and immediately began to recount the situation in a flat, emotionless tone.

The situation was quite simple. The most motivated and intelligent group was the first to discover this mysterious corridor. But before encountering real danger, they simply felt that the furnishings here were more abundant than in other parts of the old house, and therefore they had a better chance of finding what they needed—nothing more.

But then the situation took a sudden turn. Just as the two fugitives were touching the gilded wallpaper and discussing in astonishment that the owner of this haunted house had once been incredibly wealthy, another group discovered a mural covered in cobwebs.

What makes the mural so striking is the abundance of gemstones piled on it. These sparkling little trinkets are being nudged and pushed around by a group of large, unruly dogs, who seem to be trying to build a staircase to reach the cream cake on the other side of the mural.

These little bastards clearly can't comprehend the preciousness of gemstones—I really don't know what the mural's creator was trying to imply.

Just as the fugitives hesitated, unsure whether they should reach out and touch the gem in the painting, at least to try their luck, a dog suddenly rolled over and pulled out a jet-black gem ring from under its belly.

Seeing that the gemstone ring, which perfectly met Gerald's requirements, had appeared, one impatient fugitive gritted his teeth and immediately reached out to touch it. He was also careful, grabbing another fugitive's collar tightly, and the latter followed suit, grabbing another person as well.

"-Therefore, when the first prisoner was bitten on the finger by the dog in the painting and violently pulled into the painting, he only had time to let out a scream."

The second person fared much better. He left behind the words "Damn it!! Help me—help me—" and struggled outside the frame for a long time before being pulled into the picture.

The third person was taken aback, but reacted quickly, immediately tearing off his outer robe and preferring to tremble against the wall rather than approach the eerie painting again.

Just then, someone shouted, "Burn this damn thing!" and the eagle-shaped candles above the mural lit up on their own, illuminating the greenish-white water stains on the floor and the tragic scene in the painting.

Those who heard the sound seemed to be bewitched, and used their torn prison uniforms to start a fire.

At this point, the onlookers realized something was wrong and tried to stop the man from doing something foolish. They were unsuccessful and could only watch helplessly as the fugitive was engulfed in blue flames and instantly turned into a charred corpse.

Worse still, a strange cloud of smoke billowed from the blue flames, and soon everyone else in the corridor fell victim to the traps related to the eagle, all of which were instantly killed.

But a small number of people made it through, rushing straight towards the direction where the emerald green watermarks were thicker, and then disappeared around that corner.

The people were gone, but the screams didn't. Gerald was also regretful that the original victims hadn't even been able to tell him what had happened there.

■

Barufeo was stunned and couldn't speak for a long time.

Undoubtedly, he was terrified. And what Gerald said was only the part that was easier to say.

As for how Gerald waved his wand and used spells to force the remaining prisoners to continue exploring, and how he determined what the "thing" deep in the corridor was, Barufeo was trembling so badly that he had to swallow the latter part of his story.

Master, he looks like a good-for-nothing.

"Yes, I saw it too," Edmund said, puzzled. "That shouldn't be happening."

"My master asked me to ask you, are you really that flying spell prodigy, Skrull Balfeo?"

Upon hearing this, Barufeo trembled, his gaunt face filled with despair:

"I am no longer."

Although Edmund himself wasn't there, he still manipulated Gerald to kick the kid.

"You're in jail, not dead—stand up and speak properly!"

Gerrard glared menacingly at Barufeo, who wisely stood up, still trembling like a leaf.

Gerard, ever the good-natured one, asked again, and Barufeo finally confirmed. Once he was certain he hadn't made a mistake, Edmund allowed Gerard to continue questioning:

"Then why are you pretending to be innocent? Don't tell me you're being framed—even the British Ministry of Magic isn't this incompetent, is it?"

Upon hearing this, Barufeo not only trembled but also choked back sobs. He crossed his arms over his chest, looking utterly terrified.

"—No, no—" The Ravenclaw burst into tears. "That thing—those things, I really did it."

Before Gerard could continue his violence, Barufeo, cowering in fear, said in a trembling voice:

"I...I dare not recall it. I'm afraid I'll be manipulated by that voice again—I'm scared—"

"I don't understand why it turned out this way—I don't get it—I...I wasn't wronged, I was framed!"

"There was a man—when I was traveling in Albania, I met a wizard of extraordinary talent. He was much older than me, yet he was willing to patiently teach me. I thought I had met a great teacher and friend, but one day—one day—I accidentally overheard him hissing and talking to a large snake. Only then did I realize that he was a descendant of Slytherin, which made me feel even more honored—."

"But it was that day, he seemed to suddenly become interested and asked me if I wanted to see Ravenclaw's belongings—"

Barufeo trembled like a terminally ill old man. He raised his head, his pale face filled with despair:

"—He actually desecrated Ravenclaw's crown—"

"He placed the crown on my head and said he was going to award me a medal—then that voice came out—he was manipulating me."

He said he could help me become famous and give me a helping hand, to do some great things that I couldn't do on my own—"

A deep despair crept across Barufeo's haggard, ageless face. Edmund knew without him saying it what those "major events" referred to.

Gerald remained silent. Edmund pondered the character of the man Balfio had described, and after a long pause, he asked, almost as if possessed:

"What's his name?"

Barufeo answered, trembling:

"His name is Voldemort."