A day at Hogwarts.

Chapter 567 Photos
Gringotts' deep underground passages are interconnected, the air is damp and cold, and a long-abandoned vault is filled with dust and the smell of musty mold.

A few dim magic lamps provided limited light, casting distorted shadows on the moldy and rusty walls.

This place has long been forgotten by Gringotts, far removed from the hustle and bustle and vigilance of the core vault.

Charles stood in a well-fitting, rusty hanging cage, wearing deliberately aged, tattered prison clothes that looked stained with dirt and blood.

He stretched his limbs and then squatted down. The cold iron bars of the cage had been newly fitted with thorns, and even the slightest touch would cause him to bleed profusely.

The fairies from Siberia were busy all around.

A fairy dragged a heavy iron chain across the damp ground, making a screeching metallic scraping sound, before hoisting it up from the top of a cage.

Another fairy used a specially made metal rod to rhythmically strike the iron bars of the hanging cage, producing a dull "clang...clang..." sound.

Zeta put on the old-fashioned fairy armor she had brought from France, and wore a helmet that covered most of her face.

The other fairies were the same, wearing ancient yet brand-new armor, looking quite impressive under the lights.

A fairy came and did makeup for her companions. When they stepped into the shadows, their expressions changed, and they all looked fierce and menacing, but their facial features were not clearly visible.

Zeta saw Charles being hung up and directed her other fairy companions to begin the next step of their work.

"Dim the lights a bit more, yes, just illuminate the cage and the area around it."

"Is the treasure vault over there ready? We need to reveal the emblem."

Zeta gave various instructions in a low voice in fairy language, arranging and preparing various props.

His companions quickly adjusted the angle and brightness of several magic lamps on the wall, focusing the light on Charles while casting deeper shadows around him.

Zeta walked up to the cage and, in her heavily Siberian-accented fairy language, sternly rebuked Charles with phrases like "behave yourself" and "tell me how to get into the vault," while deliberately splashing a bucket of cold, dirty water onto the cage.

Charles cooperated by letting out a suppressed groan, his body twitching painfully in the cage.

Cold water droplets dripped down his disheveled hair and cheeks, making him look particularly pitiful in the dim light.

“Okay, that’s it!” Zeta whispered to her companion who was holding the magic camera, “Make sure to capture the lip movements.”

The photo cannot produce sound, but the lip movements can be seen, allowing people to judge what was said.

The fairy holding the camera said somewhat helplessly, "Comrade Zeta, do you think it's normal for a fairy to interrogate a British wizard in fairy language instead of English?"

Zeta thought it made sense and immediately wanted to rehearse it.

Charles immediately said, "No need, I understand the language of fairies."

Zeta said, "But the audience doesn't understand."

As he spoke, another bucket of dirty water appeared in his hand, which he then splashed at Charles.

Charles was speechless. He had taken the pills to fake his illness and was now unable to move, so he could only let the dirty water be poured on him.

The photographer kept adjusting the camera angle to make sure he could capture Zeta's blurry but ferocious face, parts of the cage, Charles's ravaged appearance, and several armored fairies in the surrounding shadows.

“I don’t think this is good.” He put down his camera and said to Zeta, “Torture and interrogation are not enough. I suggest you torture him for your own amusement. That will be more effective.”

Charles blinked, wondering if he had offended him.

Also, Zeta, don't nod right away!

Zeta said, "We can consider shooting one set according to the original plan first, and then shooting the set you suggested, with everyone standing closer together so that we can barely see the expressions on their faces."

“One last rehearsal.” Charles pursed his lips and curled up again.

"what!"

This time, instead of the promised cold, dirty water, a bucket of boiling water was poured on him. The steaming Charles suddenly jumped up in the narrow cage, his back and arms slamming hard against the sharp thorns. Several new bloodstains immediately appeared, flowing down with the hot water, accompanied by short, real cries of pain.

Zeta let out an exaggerated, triumphant laugh, and the fairies behind him immediately joined in, as if they had seen something extremely amusing.

"Crack! Crack! Crack!"

The sound of camera shutters echoed continuously in the silent, abandoned vault.

After the photo was taken, Charles immediately gave Zeta a thumbs up and said through gritted teeth, "Perfect! Thanks, comrade!"

Zeta adjusted his helmet, a sly smile spreading across his face, and replied, "No problem, want to try again?"

Charles said definitively, "I think that's enough."

Zeta shook her head and said, "I don't think it's enough. Let's shoot a few more sets. We're not worried about not having enough props."

Charles: ...

Late at night, Zeta's figure appeared like a ghost near Rita Skeeter's residence.

He made sure no one was around, took out a thick brown paper envelope containing the developed photos, and with a flick of his wrist, the envelope slid precisely through the crack under the door and disappeared into the darkness of the foyer.

Having done all this, Zeta quickly blended into the night and disappeared.

The house's security system immediately responded to the intruder.

As Rita, dressed in her bathrobe and holding her wand, carefully descended the stairs, three magical dolls surrounded the envelope.

She didn't know if the letter contained information from someone or if someone she had offended was going to expose her, and that a doll was to be opened only after she left.

Fifteen minutes later, all was well, and Rita returned home to find some photos and a letter inside.

Her pupils contracted sharply when the first photo came into view.

Charles Smith, the wealthy tycoon who brought her immense wealth, was imprisoned in a terrifying thorn cage, his body filthy and soaking wet, his eyes filled with pain and despair. Around him, a blurry goblin in Gringotts-style armor was poking him with a blacksmith's dagger, seemingly asking him something.

Rita gasped, and the photo slipped from her hand with a clatter.

Her heart was pounding. She quickly picked up the photos and flipped through the remaining ones with trembling fingers.

Charles was scalded with boiling water in a cage, his skin turning red instantly; he was stung relentlessly by a swarm of wasps, writhing in pain to escape; he was forcibly held down, his soles smeared with honey and licked by a goat, his expression contorted... Every picture is horrifying!

Several fairies surrounded the area, and through the photo, one could almost hear their ferocious and cruel laughter.

The last two photos show two storage rooms filled with a dazzling array of treasures, with the family crest clearly visible.

The letter was pieced together from letters cut from the Daily Prophet, and contained only one sentence:

"Below Gringotts—a goblin with a conscience"

The initial shock was quickly replaced by professional instinct.

Rita's eyes lit up with unprecedented excitement. Big news, earth-shattering big news!

(End of this chapter)