A certain broken Hogwarts

Chapter 211 Kurt Garnier

The grassy area in front of the church was a mess, with charred plant remains riddled with holes of all sizes, and thick, foul-smelling smoke rising from some places. Some of the remaining grass blades were frozen stiff and covered with glistening white frost.

Many people lay sprawled on the grass. The wizards in black cloaks had all lost consciousness and were tightly bound together with ropes. Some of the remaining people rushed towards the church without stopping, while a few wounded remained where they were, groaning softly.

With a muffled "poof," a burst of intense black flames suddenly shot up high on the grass among the crowd, causing those around to raise their wands in alarm.

Owen emerged from the flames, a beautiful black bird perched on his shoulder, and carrying a prisoner and a burden in his hands.

"Phew—you're finally out. I thought that was some nice place you wouldn't want to leave." Albert finally breathed a sigh of relief, gestured for the others to put down their wands, and scolded them with a stern face.

Irving threw the prisoner on the ground, released the boy he had brought out of the dungeon, and blinked innocently at his father.

He looked rather disheveled. His robes were dusty and grimy, with a large tear in the hem, probably from rolling around trying to escape the spell. His pale face was smeared with black ash, a patchwork of white and black that made him look somewhat comical. Even his usually tidy hair was standing on end in a mess, with strands near his left ear curled up from the heat.

Adeline gave Owen a sharp look, and after confirming he was alright, her expression relaxed slightly. She then asked without hesitation, "How's the situation inside?"

No sooner had he finished speaking than a loud "boom" resounded in the church.

The out-of-control purple flames were no longer content to be confined to the small space. They transformed into the forms of phoenixes, fire dragons, and chimeras, violently ripping off the wooden planks nailed to the arched windows. They stretched out their cursed, scorching claws through the doors and windows, and extended their insatiable tongues of fire to lick anything that could be used as fuel.

"Wow, that's spectacular." Facing the wave of heat, Albert raised his left eyebrow and tossed his long black hair, which had been draped over his shoulder, behind him. He suddenly waved his wand and muttered in a low voice, "End of all curses!"

"All curses end." Owen and Adeline also released the spell at the same time, their voices intertwining and overlapping, like a beautiful duet between a man and a woman.

The golden light suppressed the scorching flames back into the church. The fiery monster struggled ferociously and violently, raising its head and letting out a silent howl, but it could only shrink smaller and smaller in the light screen, eventually turning into a wisp of smoke and disappearing into the air, leaving only a pile of charred ash and ashes.

"You used the breaking spell well." Albert smiled with satisfaction, even looking a little smug. The spell "All Curses End" was not something a young wizard like Owen could easily master, and it was enough to make him proud.

He waved his wand again, a gust of wind sweeping away the oppressive heat, then gazed into the distance through the gate: "Where are they?"

"Um... while I was fighting those guys, I knocked out a few people, and Nyx was a huge help... then a crazy guy unleashed a Fiendfyre spell that went out of control and swallowed everyone up," Owen fabricated without batting an eye. "So I grabbed the nearest prisoner and some people I rescued from the dungeon and escaped..."

"Really?" Albert looked at him suspiciously. "So all those people were burned to death? I know you can't apparite inside a church, otherwise your mother and I would have gone straight in to find you."

"Yes!" Owen said with a sincere and innocent expression. His pale, delicate cheeks were smeared with black ash, making him look pitiful, which only made his wide, bright eyes stand out even more, like a disheveled but still adorable stray cat.

"Hiss, since the matter has been resolved, I'll believe it!" Albert was completely charmed, instantly abandoning his intelligence and morals.

Adeline gave Owen a deep look, then took his left hand, which had several deep scratches, and frowned with some heartache as she gently chanted a healing spell for him.

The bleeding wound stopped quickly under the spell, slowly contracting and healing, leaving only a few faint pink marks. Owen smiled gratefully at his mother and waved his wand to clean himself up.

"How did you find us?" he asked curiously, raising his hand to gently stroke Nyx's long tail feathers.

"Heh, door keys are easy to track, much easier than Apparition." Albert examined the wounded and said casually, "You don't think your mother and I would let you go to Diagon Alley alone, do you? After you were just attacked not long ago."

He shrugged helplessly as he spoke, "Your mother always felt that the attack on us wouldn't be over so easily, so she's been very careful about your safety. We even made a bet..."

He pursed his lips, clearly not wanting to discuss the topic anymore. He had almost never won a bet with Adeline.

"Adeline had your cats follow you from a distance—those little guys are really good at sensing and tracking—and she went to Diagon Alley herself, notifying me the moment you were teleported away by the Portkey. I immediately gathered a team and came after you with Adeline."

As he spoke, he comforted the wounded and cast a healing spell on the injured leg of a young sorcerer with freckles all over his face.

Pure-blood families like the Shafiq family, which still maintain their glory, are all forces to be reckoned with. Their core consists of a group of direct subordinates responsible for family management, operations, and security; a group of business associates; members of affiliated families; officials of the Ministry of Magic recommended by the family; and extensive networks of connections.

"I see." Owen nodded thoughtfully. If Melett was secretly following him, it would indeed be difficult for him to notice in a bustling place like Diagon Alley.

"Speaking of which, how is Blaise?" he asked, looking at his mother.

Adeline straightened her slightly askew wide-brimmed hat, her magnetic voice calm and gentle: "That child was hit by a Confusion Charm, but he's fine now. He should still be waiting for you in Diagon Alley. We haven't caught the person who cast the spell on him."

She glanced at the boy Owen had brought out of the church basement and asked softly, "Who is he?"

"I don't know, he was imprisoned by those people in the church's basement." Owen shook his head and glanced at the boy who stood there helplessly.

The boy looked to be about ten years old. He was wearing a dirty and tattered robe, and his exposed skin was covered with deep and shallow, hideous scars, which made it easy to imagine the kind of abuse he had suffered.

He was very thin, with blue eyes, a long nose, and a few freckles on his pale, gaunt face. His gray-brown curly hair was filthy, and he stood there all alone like a poor, abandoned puppy. But his gaze toward Owen was bright and intense from time to time.

Irving felt a chill run down his spine under the boy's gaze. It was the first time he'd been looked at like a fanatical idol; in his previous life, his fans had been much more rational. He raised a hand to touch his cheek, looked into the boy's eyes, and asked in a gentle, persuasive voice, "Tell me, who are you?"

A flush of excitement rose on the boy's haggard face as he spoke rapidly, "I'm Kurt, Kurt Garner, and I've been locked up here for a long time. Uh, I don't remember how long..."

"Garnier..." Owen pinched his chin with his fingers and asked thoughtfully, "What's your relationship with Craig Garnier?" His bookstore was bought from this man.

"Those are my father's and grandfather's names," Kurt said honestly.

"Can you tell me about your family?" Owen asked softly.

Kurt nodded obediently and said without any concealment, "My family moved to Knockturn Alley more than ten years ago. Before that, we lived in France. My grandfather used to be a very skilled thief..."

He glanced at Owen cautiously, and finding no disdain or rejection on Owen's face, he breathed a sigh of relief and said, "Since coming to Knockdown Alley, Grandfather hasn't made a move. He bought some properties and shops, opened a few stores, and lived a very low-key life."

"My father didn't inherit my grandfather's talent, nor did he learn his thieving skills. He preferred doing business. But he didn't have much talent for business and always lost money. My grandfather kept a tight rein on him. Everyone called him a spendthrift, but he was pretty good to me and my mother." Kurt looked reminiscing, then his expression turned painful.

"Until that day, my grandfather passed away unexpectedly," he said in a hoarse voice. "Without my grandfather's supervision, my father devoted himself entirely to his business. In order to keep the business afloat, he sold many valuable things that my grandfather had hidden away, ignoring all the advice from my mother and me."

"Then those people came knocking on our door," he said in a low voice, his cheeks taut. "Grandfather must have offended someone back then to hide in Fandao Alley. It was probably the things my father sold that gave us away and caused us trouble."

“I was brought here last summer. Those men broke into my house in the middle of the night…” Kurt’s expression was a complex mix of sadness, fear, and resentment. “My parents were fighting with those men in black cloaks in the foyer. I had just come out of my room when I saw my mother fall down…”

His blue eyes welled up slightly, and his pupils became somewhat unfocused: "She was struck by a rebounding shattering curse and died instantly. A man in a black cloak shouted to take her alive, and my father and I were captured and imprisoned in this dungeon..."

"They tortured my father in front of me, forcing him to reveal where my grandfather hid his treasure, and demanding to know who my grandfather's friends were. They wanted to find some treasure that my grandfather had hidden." Kurt's expression was filled with a numbness.

"They got the location of all the houses and properties my grandfather left behind from my father, coerced him into taking everything stored in Gringotts, and questioned him in detail about everyone who had contact with my grandfather, forcing him to recall all sorts of details about him..."

"But they still didn't find what they were looking for. Later, my father was so weakened by the torture that he died in the dungeon, and then they started interrogating me..." Kurt lowered his head blankly. "But I don't know, I really don't know. My grandfather died unexpectedly, and he didn't have time to tell us anything."

"After that, they found they couldn't get anything out of me, so they kept me locked up there and tortured me from time to time, forcing me to recall more about my grandfather in an attempt to find some clues."

"I heard them say they'd kill me after they found something. Actually, I think dying would be better, but I'm just not willing to die like this," he muttered absentmindedly.

"How much do you know about this organization?" Irving reached out and patted him on the shoulder in a comforting gesture, then asked softly.

Kurt's legs visibly went weak, as if Irving's hand weighed a ton. He stammered, "I know very little. Sometimes I would crawl up to the basement door to eavesdrop on their conversations. They rarely talked about their organization; what I overheard was mostly about that treasure."

"Then tell me," Owen said in a friendly tone.

Kurt's expression calmed considerably, and he tried to recall, saying, "They've been searching for Grandfather's secret hideout, investigating anyone who had contact with him..."

"Oh, right! They call my grandfather a traitor!" He suddenly remembered this important matter. "It seems that my grandfather and a group of people stole the treasure from their organization back then. They couldn't find anything from us, so they wanted to capture his accomplices."

"Later, they did find a clue about one of my grandfather's accomplices, but that person escaped, and they spent a long time doing everything they could to track him down," Kurt said. "At the same time, they also sent their subordinates to search the properties left by my grandfather."

"Industry... Do you know that your grandfather owned a stain remover shop in Knockturn Alley?" Owen narrowed his eyes.

"I know that store." Kurt looked at him blankly, not understanding why he brought it up.

"Later, that store became a bookstore. Have you heard anything about the bookstore from those people?" Irving rephrased the question.

"A bookstore?" Kurt paused, then his eyes lit up. "I did hear two people talking about a bookstore."

He frowned, deep in thought: "One man said that bookstore is difficult to investigate, that it was bought by a mysterious force and is not to be trifled with. Another person said that the goods wouldn't be hidden in such a place, and told him to focus his efforts on capturing his grandfather's accomplices first..."

"As expected..." Owen nodded slightly, finally figuring out where all the trouble in the bookstore came from.

"However, they came to interrogate me again a while ago. Before that, they had ignored me in the dungeon for a long time," Kurt suddenly said. "They asked me what my grandfather's relationship was with the Shafik family."

"This is the man who came to question us, the leader of those people." He looked at the man Owen had thrown to the ground, his expression a mixture of hatred and fear. "They took this very seriously, tormenting me for a long time... but I had no idea what to do with it."

He shuddered violently, biting his lips until they turned white, his pupils trembling unfocused as he was lost in painful and desperate memories.

"It's alright, Kurt. Look, they're finished." Owen comforted him in a soothing tone, patting his head.

Kurt stared at him blankly, his eyes regaining their light, and large tears suddenly slid down his face. He was no longer so numb, and he truly cried like a boy his age, but he tried his best to suppress his sobs, making weak whimpers like a wounded little animal.

When he raised his arm to wipe his tears with his dirty sleeve, Owen noticed that his hands hung limply at his sides, and the shape of his bones was strange.

Adeline listened quietly to Owen, then raised her eyebrows and gestured to him with her eyes: "It's up to you."

Irving nodded almost imperceptibly, pointed to the man on the ground, and said, "Give him to me first." He still had many questions about this organization to answer.

Adeline glanced at the unconscious man, pursed her lips slightly, and said, "Since you caught him yourself... be careful." She turned and went to deal with the aftermath with Albert.

Irving turned to look at the sobbing boy and smiled gently. "Is your hand injured? It looks like it's broken. Let me treat it for you."

He raised his wand and pointed it at the other man's hands, casting a bone-setting spell. With a few soft "crack" sounds, Kurt's limp hands returned to normal, regaining their strength. Then he glanced at the various wounds on Kurt's body, cast a healing spell, and finally added a cleansing spell.

"Th...thank you!" Kurt cried, hiccuping, and hurriedly wiped his face with his hands, looking at Owen with eyes full of worship and longing, like a fanatic facing the god of his faith.

Faced with that fervent gaze that sent chills down his spine, Irving crossed his arms in exasperation. He could more or less understand the other man's state of mind.

During this long year, Kurt experienced the darkest and most painful period of his life. He lost his grandfather and mother in succession, watched his father being tortured to death before his eyes, and was imprisoned in a small, dark cell, where he was frequently tortured. His mind became numb, and he was on the verge of a mental breakdown.

When he was mired in a despair worse than death, Owen descended like a god and rescued him from hell. Having lost all his support, Kurt naturally regarded Owen as his only pillar of support, infinitely idealizing Owen's image in his mind and taking him as his faith.

Only in this way can his empty and numb heart be filled again, and his spirit on the verge of collapse be supported and redeemed.

This extreme personality cult amused Irving, but also bothered him. Overall, it didn't fit his aesthetic.

A magician doesn't want others to worship him like a god and take all the miracles he creates for granted. He wants people to see him as a human being, to be amazed and speechless by his miraculous magic.

Under Irving's cold gaze, Kurt tried to stop sobbing, looking at him with red eyes and pleading.

"Don't you have anything else to tell me?" Owen said softly, lowering his wand to cast another stun spell on the man lying on the ground.

"I...I don't know..." Kurt said weakly. "After being tortured last time, I was mostly out of it and didn't pay attention to anything anymore."

Owen smiled at him and said, "You're free now. Are you planning to go home, or somewhere else? Hmm, I don't recommend going home. I'm not sure if any of the remaining members of this organization will come after you. It's best to find a place to hide for a while..."

"Hmm, you're not a student at Hogwarts, are you?" He was certain he had never seen this face at Hogwarts, nor had he heard of any student from any year going missing for an entire year.

"I didn't go to school; I stayed home and learned from my grandfather," Kurt said softly, his head down.

Owen nodded knowingly. Not all wizarding families are keen on sending their children to magic schools, especially places like Knockturn Alley. Many wizards prefer to homeschool their children or send them to various wizarding schools, large or small.

"Can...can I come with you?" Kurt finally mustered up his courage and asked, his eyes filled with expectation, but also with uncertainty and fear, as he looked at Owen.

Sure enough, trouble was brewing. Irving's expression remained unchanged as he slowly said, "Why are you following me?"

"I have nothing left." Sensing Owen's refusal, Kurt looked like he was about to cry. "I'd do anything for you, just let me be with you. I don't want anything, I just want to help you."

His expression was both devout and humble.

"You don't want anything? Do you want to starve to death?" Irving thought to himself.

He thought for a moment, then adopted the demeanor of an interviewer and said meticulously, "What are your special skills? Why should I hire you? You have one minute to impress me."

Kurt was so nervous he didn't know what to do with his hands, stammering, "I'm very good at stealing. My grandfather took me in and taught me all the thieving techniques he knew. When I was thirteen, I broke into the Ministry of Magic and wandered around the top-secret Department of Mysteries without being discovered by anyone!"

He raised his hands: "Those people broke my hands because I'm good at picking locks. I once escaped the dungeon by picking a lock, but there were always guards outside, and I got caught and beaten up..."

He glanced at Irving furtively, and seeing that Irving seemed interested, he felt instantly encouraged, and his speech became much smoother: "Oh, by the way, I'm a Disguise Magus, very good at disguise!"

Kurt pointed to his face. He quickly transformed, his face widening, his skin turning brownish-black, his nose becoming hooked, his mouth and eyes enlarging, and his hair and eyebrows changing to the same black as Irving's.

Irving straightened his posture and became genuinely interested. He observed the other man's changes with great interest and realized that having another employee like this was definitely worthwhile. This guy had potential.

"Good." He nodded, satisfied. "You can come with me."

Kurt cheered, his hair instantly turning a vibrant orange-yellow. He jumped up excitedly, so weak he almost fell on his backside.

Seeing how excited and out of control he was, Owen waited until the other man calmed down before extending his right hand to introduce himself: "I am Owen Shafik. Nice to meet you."

"Please...please guide me!" Kurt touched Owen's hand tremblingly, then pulled back as if he had been electrocuted, his ears turning red.

"But I'll be going to Hogwarts soon, so you can help out at my bookstore then." Owen withdrew his hand and said casually, "By the way, how old are you?"

"Fifteen years old," Kurt replied immediately.

"Oh, older than me," Owen muttered. Although the other person was small and looked younger than his actual age.

"Really?" Kurt chuckled. "But you're amazing! I saw it through the crack in the dungeon door. You know so many powerful spells, you can unleash such beautiful flames, and that black shadow... So cool!"

Owen looked at him intently, calmly toying with his wand, and said softly, "These things... you don't need to tell anyone else."

"I understand!" Kurt nodded quickly, like a chick pecking at rice, and kept his mouth tightly shut.

That concludes the conversation with Kurt.

After arranging the remaining matters, Irving said goodbye to his parents and Apparated away.

(End of this chapter)