A certain broken Hogwarts

Chapter 98 Assistant

The wizarding quarter in the distance, after a brief commotion, had now quieted down. Many wizards held their wands aloft, searching for any trace of the arsonist. From afar, the scattered fireflies looked like stars fallen onto the dark earth.

At this moment, the vicious arsonist Owen sat on a rock on a distant hillside, indifferently inspecting the contents of his briefcase. The specialties he had brought from the Nightmare Forest had been mostly consumed, and along with some of his own belongings, he had thrown them into the Fiendfire.

However, what he cares about now is not this loss, but the change in his own mentality. The feedback from this latest abuse and killing of dark magic has reached a qualitative change. It's as if a spring of malice has opened up in his heart, constantly gushing out. Evil and desire are spreading and growing wildly, making him increasingly indifferent to life and beauty. At the same time, it seems that a tempting voice is whispering to him at all times, bewitching him to vent his desires as he pleases, to completely throw himself into the embrace of darkness, to accept his truest self, and to embrace freedom and rebirth.

Owen shook his head dazedly, then slammed the suitcase lid shut with a "snap," the sudden sound in the silence jolting him back to reality. The solution to the side effects of dark magic wasn't yet complete, but the situation had become increasingly urgent. He felt himself slowly sliding into the abyss, becoming less and less like his former self.

Dark magic is undoubtedly a type of magic that is easy to learn quickly. Many powerful dark spells are surprisingly simple, requiring little to no talent from the wizard. The most important element is simply genuine malice. The stronger the malice, the more people harmed, and the greater the power. No wonder so many wizards are madly addicted to it.

Black magic represents plunder; perhaps it draws power from the suffering of others, like a monster that spreads despair and pain, absorbing nutrients to grow stronger.

This time, Owen clearly felt that the Dark Lord's power had increased, their killing speed was faster, and their movements were quicker. Moreover, for some reason, he felt that his mental strength had also suddenly increased slightly, as if it were a strange effect brought about by a qualitative change.

After months of continuous training using Ravenclaw's mental cultivation techniques, coupled with the recent small boost, Owen felt that his current magical power should surpass that of most adult wizards, and at least reach the level of some elite wizards.

"We need to hurry." Owen slowly lowered his eyes, one hand resting naturally on his suitcase, his fingers tapping lightly on it. He glanced at Natasha, who was staring blankly at the night sky. This woman, who looked no more than twenty years old, now looked tired and haggard, her long, deep red hair hanging limply behind her head.

After successfully avenging herself, Natasha lost all her goals and seemed to have lost even the will to live, appearing listless and dispirited.

"What do you plan to do in the future?" Owen asked softly, his clear voice slightly hoarse. He took out the items he had obtained from the last black wizard he had killed, checked each of the wizard's belongings one by one and tossed them aside, then opened the black cloth bag and began rummaging through it.

"I don't know," Natasha said blankly after a long pause. "I'll take care of that information broker first, then I'll go back to Knockturn Alley. At least there's a... place to stay there."

Owen didn't speak, but a slow smile appeared on his lips. The bag in his hand looked small, but it was actually enchanted with a Stretch Mark Charm. Although he didn't care about most of the items inside, there were a few things that were worth his attention.

For example, there was a silver-white, leaf-shaped amulet; Owen found several similar fragments among the man's belongings. Such amulets could temporarily ward off the Dark Lord's guards, perhaps even involving the soul realm.

For example, there was an ancient book that had been carefully preserved. Owen took it out and flipped through it. The cover was dark black, with intricate and mysterious red patterns drawn on it. The title was "The Book of Secrets." The title page was completely red, as if smeared with blood, and in the lower right corner was written a name: Meral. The following yellowed pages were all blank, without any patterns or words.

At that moment, Natasha suddenly asked incredulously, "How did this book end up with you?"

"What's wrong with what I found in here?" Owen glanced at her, shook the cloth bag in his hand, and had a playful smile in his eyes.

"This book... is the treasure my father stole!" Natasha's deep red eyes flashed violently, her expression filled with resentment and despair. "I heard those people say... its name is the Book of Secrets. How did this book end up in that person's hands? How could the leader of Trif's organization not know about it?"

"Who told you that Trevor is the leader of the Dark Spirits?" Owen asked calmly, and before Natasha could answer, he said leisurely, "What leader of a dark force would wear conspicuous clothes and swagger around announcing their identity? Trevor is just a double at most."

"I think the man I killed was the true leader of the Dark Souls organization. He always stood at the back of the crowd, seemingly inconspicuous, but whenever Trevor said certain things, he would instinctively look over there, and the surrounding dark wizards would often glance in that direction as well, showing little respect for Trevor..."

"Such an obvious problem, you could have noticed it if you had just observed a little more." Owen glanced at her helplessly, thinking that this woman was indeed a bit stupid, or rather, careless and single-minded.

Natasha's fair cheeks turned red at this moment, and she stammered, "I... I just didn't think about it that way..." After saying that, her expression turned gloomy again, and she realized that she had not killed her enemy at all.

Owen let her continue her existential turmoil, rummaging through his bag and pulling out several notebooks and parchment, opening them one by one to examine them. The parchment was filled with lines of names, many of which were crossed out; it appeared to be a list of members of the Dark Spirit organization. He tossed the parchment to Natasha, telling her to figure it out herself.

Several notebooks contained research notes on dark magic, memos of important matters, and a very hastily written diary. Owen flipped to the last few pages of the diary and found a description of the "Book of Secrets."

"...This ancient ruin has been under development for over a year, and quite a few people have perished along the way. It seems the owner of the ruin was very skilled in curse-type dark magic. Although he showed no mercy in killing, the things he left behind are indeed genuine and extremely valuable..."

"The Book of Secrets, the most precious possession of the deceased's owner was actually a book? Its greatest ability is to keep secrets. As long as the secret to be kept is written on the title page, and others write their names on the following pages, they cannot reveal the secret in any way... This oath of secrecy is very binding, but not very useful..."

"Wait, the name on the title page, Meral? I feel like I've heard that name somewhere before..."

"Old Valente stole the book; I knew he had ulterior motives for joining the organization..."

"After half a year, I finally managed to intercept old Valente. That old guy really knows how to hide. I got my hands on the 'Book of Secrets,' but no one knows its true purpose! This book can only belong to me; no one else can know about it! I need to cast a Soul-Stealing Curse on old Valente, and then send him to his death..."

"The ancient manuscript records the name of Meral; she was a genius in curse magic who was ahead of her time! Her most famous feat was creating a book of curses and secretly using it to control most of the dark magic organizations at the time, making them completely obedient to her!"

"The Book of Secrets should actually be called The Book of Meral's Curse! The oath of secrecy on it isn't important; it's actually an extremely powerful medium for cursing. As long as someone writes their name on it, the person who possesses the book can curse that person anytime, anywhere, even if they run to the ends of the earth!"

"With it, I too can achieve Meral's feat. As long as I keep a low profile, I can become the king of the darkness!"

Owen snapped his diary shut and muttered mockingly, "The King of Darkness is hopeless, but the Hell Pass is in hand."

It's not exciting to think that you accidentally killed the "king" of a dark world.

Owen casually tossed the ancient book in his hand; it wasn't really of much use to him. Threatening others with curses was ultimately the dumbest method. If Owen wanted to develop any power, he could easily cultivate a group of loyal subordinates through his own methods and charisma. As a magician, he always had ways to make himself popular. Therefore, the only use of this book for him was its ability to keep secrets; it was well-suited for keeping secrets for a large group of people.

"Natasha, do you want this book?" Owen asked, looking at the woman staring blankly at the list in her hand.

Natasha glanced at the book in Owen's hand with a complicated expression, then shook her head without hesitation, saying, "No, it will remind me of those bad memories. Since you've got it, it's yours."

"Since you don't know what you'll be doing in the future, how about you do something for me?" Owen smiled and put the book into his briefcase, saying in a light and gentle tone, "I'll get paid for it."

Natasha looked at him with her bright, deep red eyes, and nodded very seriously. "I already owe you a life, and today you even avenged me. You can make me do anything, even take my life..." She paused, then added seriously, "So, I don't need a salary."

She gazed intently into Owen's dark eyes, her expression resolute to the point of reverence. She was genuinely grateful to Owen, even though he hadn't intentionally helped her. She hadn't known many people in her life, nor had she ever received help from others, but she believed in repaying kindness—a principle she had learned from books and held as a truth.

The child before her had displayed extraordinary skill in dark magic at such a young age; he was sure to be something extraordinary in the future. Natasha didn't know how long the child could withstand the corrosive influence of dark magic, or whether he would turn into the same mad and cruel person as his father. Working for him was clearly not a good path, and it was destined to be accompanied by darkness and danger. But Natasha had never dared to hope for a normal life anyway.

She was a dark wizard, impoverished and living a precarious life, destined to be rejected by those in the light of day. Even without Owen, she might die at any moment in a sudden accident or attack, dying alone in some unknown corner—a fate shared by almost all dark wizards without power or backing.

"Who makes people work for free? That's exploitation. Your life wouldn't be of any use to me," Owen winked, adding humorously, "Besides, I'm not short of money."

He rested his chin on his hand, looking at the serious and proper woman in front of him, and chuckled, "I don't know what you're thinking. Actually, there's nothing I want you to do right now. It's just a habit of preparing in advance and having a backup plan... I can afford to support an idle person."

He simply acts on impulse, doing things as they come to mind and saying things as they come to mind; this can be considered his attitude towards life.

"Perhaps one day, as a magician..." Owen paused, then continued in his pleasant voice, "I, too, will need an assistant, and I hope you won't refuse then."

"After all, there are many performances that can't be done by one person alone," he said quietly.

"Of course I won't refuse, so what do you want me to do now?" Natasha shifted uncomfortably. "I can't just sit idly by and accept your kindness without a clear conscience."

"Hmm, what are you good at?" Owen looked at her thoughtfully.

"Tracking, assassination, torture, and theft," Natasha replied after a long period of serious thought, sitting upright as if facing an interviewer.

"Uh, besides that, do you have any normal strengths or hobbies?" Irving's eyebrows twitched.

"I know some of the dark magic modification experiments I learned from my father, I've mastered some dark magic spells, and I'm experienced in coordinating experiments..." Natasha racked her brains for what she knew, and seeing the growing rejection on Owen's face, she hurriedly blurted out, "I'm good at housework, and I like reading..."

"That's right, how about we try opening a bookstore?" Owen clapped his hands and casually suggested.

"Huh?" Natasha looked confused, her eyes like those of a bewildered puppy.

"Since you're familiar with Knockturn Alley, why don't you open a bookstore there?" Owen's gloomy mood, which had been somewhat depressed, began to lighten, and even the restless evil thoughts in his heart seemed to have faded a bit. "The pocket money I've saved up over the years is enough to invest in a few stores in Knockturn Alley, which can serve as a secret little hideout."

"Oh." Natasha didn't know what to say, so she just gave her usual generic response.

Owen smiled and tilted his head, then slowly extended his right hand toward the other person's grimy face. He then gently pinched his five fingers together, and a white rose appeared out of thin air in his palm.

"There are still many interesting things in this world. Don't always be so tense. You're still young, and there are so many new and interesting things you can try." He tucked a rose into Natasha's slightly messy hair, his tone gentle and kind. "See, you look even prettier this way."

"It's time to move on from your unhappy past. You're free, Natasha. You should think more about yourself and live for yourself. A beautiful girl like you will definitely be popular," Owen said with a bright smile.

Natasha stared at him, a glimmer of tears seeming to well up in her deep red eyes. No one had ever said such things to her before; apart from her dependent brother, no one had ever truly cared for her; the world had never been kind to her.

Looking at the boy with his elegant and gentle smile, she suddenly felt that this wasn't so bad after all. She didn't know what the future held, but at least she had something to look forward to.

"Oh right, I still don't know your name." Only then did she realize this.

"Owen, Owen Shafik." Owen casually swung his foot slightly. "You can call me Owen."

"Shafik?" Natasha's eyes widened as she asked cautiously, "The Shafik family of the Twenty-Eight Pureblood Families?"

Seeing Owen nod casually in response, Natasha shook her head in disbelief. For the first time, she questioned the reality of this world.

In her eyes, powerful and wealthy families were always high and mighty. She couldn't understand why a member of a large family like Owen would risk infiltrating the wizarding black market alone, putting himself in such a dangerous situation. She also couldn't understand why his family members would be so carefree as to teach their children so much dangerous black magic.

"So...you haven't started school yet?" she asked tentatively.

"I'm a first-year student at Hogwarts, and it's the holidays now," Owen said innocently.

The two looked at each other for a long time before Natasha finally said, "If the traces on your body are detected, they will have no choice but to flee."

"It's taken care of." Owen blinked.

The two then chatted harmoniously, with Owen mainly making jokes, while Natasha, somewhat oblivious to others' antics, remained completely serious. It wasn't until dawn that they headed towards the distant wizarding community.

(End of this chapter)