A magical journey that begins in Azkaban.

Chapter 526 Death, Darkness, and Fate

The god of death stared at Rogge, and saw a hint of amusement in the eyes of the mortal in front of him. A bad premonition suddenly arose in his heart, and his cold body felt vaguely uneasy.

"Impossible! Absolutely impossible!" He shouted in a rage, "Only intelligent creatures have souls! The deadline for collecting the debt has come, and you don't have enough time to give me enough souls to make up for this gap!"

The corners of Roger's mouth curled up in a relaxed arc, and his eyes flashed with a light of "as expected".

Just now, the God of Death clearly said: Death needs death to pay, and soul needs soul to redeem. Rogge secretly guessed that every fugitive who escaped death was a bad debt that needed to be recovered by the God of Death.

The principal is life, and the interest is the soul.

He quickly thought of Nicolas Flamel's Philosopher's Stone, the mysterious alchemical object created during the Black Death, which was most likely a small treasury filled with souls.

"I assure you, I have sacrificed countless souls." Rogge said confidently, his eyes firmly pointed at the unbalanced scale in front of him: "And I agree with your judgment, it is destined to be unbalanced! But the weightlessness is on this side."

He pointed to the towering, empty trays, his face lit with triumph.

Hearing this, his heart trembled. He frantically pulled the thread that symbolized his fate in his hand, and immediately felt an indescribable heaviness.

The god of death had to increase his strength, and soon he saw the countless lines of fate that were broken because of Rogge. Those lost lives were intertwined, like a kite with a broken string, and had already plunged into their own river of Hades.

Recently, it has been immersed in an almost morbid pleasure. It has been waving its sharp sickle with joy, harvesting one batch of "leeks" that have matured early after another.

However, it was completely unaware that Rogge had quietly influenced the fate of countless people and created this joyous feast for it. The gift of fate had already been secretly marked with a price.

"This... This is impossible!" It let out a scream, as if it was pierced by an invisible sharp blade. It hurriedly let go of Rogge's fate and interrupted the judgment represented by the scales.

Of course, the God of Death can do this, because compared to Rogge on the other side of the scale, it is undoubtedly a superior. The judgment it initiated can be interrupted at any time and anywhere without incurring any cost.

However, fate gave it a powerful response at this moment!
The darkness behind Rogge rose quickly, like an invisible ancient beast, enveloping the god of death. The deep darkness seemed to be roaring silently: it would never allow its chosen people to become the playthings of death.

The scales fell with a loud bang, and the trays collided with each other with a crisp metallic sound. Ariana's soul quietly returned to her body along the thread of fate.

The Grim Reaper was terrified and turned into a gray-white smoke and tried to escape from the cloak, but he was tightly wrapped by the inky black vortex and could not move.

Suddenly, an inexplicable voice exploded in Rogge's mind: God cannot be looked directly at!
Rogge closed his eyes involuntarily, and the sharp whistling sound of the scythe waving rang in his ears. Then, the air began to flow violently, like an invisible giant hand stirring the entire space. A piercing chill penetrated Rogge's nose and skin, making him shiver.

Slowly, he began to feel his blood pulsating in his body again; his heart beating in his chest; and not far away, he could hear the sound of snowballs hitting the ground.

Rogge glanced at the panel and found that Forced Judgment and Dark Asylum disappeared almost at the same time.

Death is gone.

He slowly opened his eyes and exhaled a long, foul breath. On the snow in front of him, the items of the god of death were left behind. Just like a beach after the tide receded, only a faint trace of water was left.

"Don't sign any contract with those in higher positions!" Rogge warned himself secretly.

A magic wand made of osmanthus wood lay quietly at his feet, exuding a mysterious atmosphere. Although Roger suspected that there was a backdoor left by the god of death, he still picked it up. He played with it for a while and then put it in the wooden box.

"The black robe covering the god of death may allow me to avoid some prying eyes..." He muttered to himself, and just as he was about to reach out to grab it, the darkness quickly rushed towards it.

This familiar dark force was like a skilled tailor, instantly splitting the black robe into countless tiny threads. Then, the threads frantically danced in the air. Against the backdrop of the white snow, they were rewoven into a light cloak, which gently fell into Rogge's hands.

"Should I thank you, or should I...thank you?" Rogge curled his lips, knowing in his heart that the darkness was paying attention to him.

This cloak that felt like water was a gift from the darkness. After all, he had just demonstrated his worth in front of the darkness, causing the almighty God of Death to interrupt his judgment. This feat undoubtedly greatly pleased the mysterious being who favored him.

Rogge folded it carefully, secretly pondering the intricate relationship between the gods.

His appearance affected fate, but fate never told the god of death about it. So in the eyes of the god of death, the "leeks" who were harvested before were all normal.

His eyes fell on the scale that could weigh souls. If the trial just now continued, those broken fate lines would completely destroy it. After all, some things are not as heavy as two taels if they are not weighed, and they cannot be weighed even a thousand pounds if they are weighed.

The Death God was afraid of the result of the scale tipping towards Roger, and was even more worried about the possible conspiracy of darkness, so it fled in panic. As for this scale, it was just a toy made by Zhi.

But Roger was keenly aware that in the hands of a wizard, it might play an unexpected role.

"Knowledge is power. This scale may be the key to unlocking the soul." He thought to himself and put it in his pocket without hesitation.

At this moment, Rogge's peripheral vision caught a glimpse of a strange object on the snow not far away. He walked slowly closer and found that it was a fragment only the size of a thumb. The surface and cracks of the fragment were covered with blood-colored spider web patterns, reflecting a dazzling cold light.

"Could it be... that the blade of the Grim Reaper's scythe has broken?" This thought flashed through Rogge's mind like a flash of lightning, causing him to shiver involuntarily.

What earth-shattering event happened in the instant when he closed his eyes that could damage the soul-harvesting weapon in the hand of the god of death?

There was a strong desire for knowledge flashing in Roger's eyes. He began to carefully recall every word that the Grim Reaper had said before, trying to find clues from them.

For a true wizard, the unknown is not a source of fear, but a signpost leading to the treasure house of knowledge. He gazed at the rolling mountains in the distance, his heart full of desire.

Unfortunately, death and darkness were too far away from him. After this thrilling encounter, the god of death would probably not easily meet him again.

Right now, the only clues to solving these mysteries are possible fragments of the sickle, scales, wand, and cloak of darkness.

Roger carefully waved the Kirin wand and used the levitation spell to pull the fragments on the ground. When the fragments touched the magic, a weak but not negligible pulse came from the bottom of his heart, as if it was a call from another dimension.

After hesitating for a moment, a bold idea flashed in his mind. Roger immediately took out Slytherin's pendant box and prepared to put it in it.

Salazar's pendant box has always been regarded by Roger as the most useless of the four founders' relics. Even Helena, who lives in the crown, has mocked its uselessness with disdain many times.

After all, Ravenclaw's diadem can improve thinking, Hufflepuff's golden cup can preserve a lot of food, and Gryffindor's sword can at least chop wood. But this locket seems to be useless except for holding photos.

As the box slowly closed, a miracle happened before his eyes: the strange fluctuations that made the soul sway and throb disappeared without a trace in an instant.

Roger let out a long sigh, and a complex emotion surged in his heart. He couldn't help but curse Grindelwald for being so smart. Although that guy's original intention might not be bad, his behavior almost killed him.

There was a burst of cheerful laughter from the other side of the courtyard, and Hermione and Ariana were walking briskly towards him.

Roger stared at Ariana and muttered to himself, "Miss Dumbledore, you really owe me one!" "Why are you sweating so much?" Hermione looked at him with concern and picked up her sleeve to wipe his forehead.

"Ah..." Rogge was stunned for a moment, and subconsciously reached out to touch it, only then did he realize that his chest and back were soaked with cold sweat.

"Where is the wizard in black robe? How did he get in?" she asked curiously, and Ariana stared at him thoughtfully.

Roger took a deep breath and decided to hide the truth: "Maybe it was through the tunnel." He didn't want to say more, and didn't want to bring this danger to them. Some secrets are better left to him alone.

They chatted about Ariana's early exam and walked into the hot Three Broomsticks Tavern together.

The bustling crowd and the endless noise made Roger's tense nerves relax a little. After drinking a few glasses of butter beer, he burped with relief.

While Hermione was ordering food, Roger lowered his voice and asked Ariana, "Miss Dumbledore, how did you survive?"

"After the Obscurus exploded, Mr. Green found me. Then, I survived. What happened?" She looked straight at Roger with her clear blue eyes, without any evasion. This frankness made Roger even more confused.

"And then? After you were resurrected, didn't you see Green interacting with other..." Roger paused, carefully choosing his words: "Other things?"

"Are you referring to the black robe standing in the shadows?" She leaned her head closer and took the opportunity to ask back: "I feel that the black robe is very strange, it seems..."

Ariana frowned slightly, not knowing what words to use to describe that feeling.

"It seems to be able to capture your soul."

"Yes, that's the feeling!" Ariana nodded quickly, "It's not a wizard, right? What you said at school just now..."

"I don't need to lie to you." Roger said frankly, "I did know it in France. It's just that I used the Forgetfulness Spell to make myself forget that experience."

"Ah?!" Ariana stared at him in surprise. It was the first time she heard of someone casting a forgetfulness spell on herself.

At this time, Hermione came back with French fries and roast chicken, and the two of them tacitly did not continue the topic.

"I am the beneficiary of the contract..." He chewed the fries slowly, his thoughts still lingering on the conversation with the god of death just now, "The remaining names will be judged by death..."

The wooden door of the tavern creaked, opened and closed by the customers. The light outside the house was like a jumping elf, passing over Roger's face from time to time. Suddenly, a flash of inspiration flashed into his mind like lightning.

"Wait," Roger murmured in a low voice. Hermione and Ariana, who were about to enjoy the roast chicken, stopped in confusion.

"Why do I feel that the Grim Reaper came to me because of Ariana? The real reason why it came to me was because of the contract. What on earth did that bastard Grindelwald do?"

Roger grabbed the chicken leg on the table irritably and took a big bite, as if he wanted to vent all his doubts and anger on this innocent roast chicken.

Under the gazes of the two Gryffindor policewomen, Roger completely devoured the roast chicken without noticing. They had reason to believe that the "wait" just now was just a trick to deceive themselves.

Hermione and Ariana were busy doing homework all day and didn't even have time to eat. They finally came out to relax, but they watched their beloved roast chicken turn into a pile of bare bones at a speed visible to the naked eye!
The two of them stared at Rogge with a common hatred. The anger in their hearts could be imagined. They just wanted to shout, "How can we repair it!"

Roger finally noticed the solemn atmosphere around him, swallowed the last bite of meat awkwardly, and suggested with a wry smile: "Well...how about we order another one?"

"No!" Hermione snorted in intolerance and crossed her arms over her chest. "The new roast chicken doesn't taste the same as the previous one! No two roast chickens in the world are exactly the same!"

"I'm full too," Ariana agreed later, looking at the chicken bones on the plate with a sly smile on her lips.

She patted her belly and teased softly, "Girls need to maintain their figure. Roger, thank you for helping us finish the roast chicken."

Roger scratched his head helplessly. He guaranteed with his death's urinal head that he definitely didn't do it on purpose.

Listening to the rumbling sounds in Hermione and Ariana's stomachs, he said enthusiastically: "Hey, I know a wonderful way to roast chicken! You must have never tasted it, and the taste is absolutely unforgettable. How about it be my apology to the two beautiful wizard ladies?"

"Really..." Ariana's eyes sparkled with anticipation, but before she could say anything, Hermione stopped her with a look.

"Ahem." She secretly pulled Ariana's sleeve and signaled her with her eyes to remain reserved.

Ariana curled her lips and complained in her heart: "You are the least reserved one."

Since they don't refuse, it means they accept.

Roger stood up and walked to the counter and bought some ingredients for the barbecue from the charming Ms. Rosmota.

The chickens in the bag had been gutted, their heads and tails cut off, and all their feathers removed. They gathered together, as if silently shouting, "Hurry, don't put me in the pot yet, I can still be saved!"

He also asked for a jar of golden honey, a small bottle of olive oil, and a few red apples... Finally, he waved to the two of them, indicating that they should go out together.

Hermione resisted the urge to stand up and tried to maintain her cool attitude of "I'm not interested in your roast chicken at all".

However, her reserve and aloofness were soon broken down by her curious companions.

"Let's go, my stomach is protesting. Even if I don't eat, I have to see what tricks Roger is going to play." Ariana exerted a little force, and Hermione's butt lifted up from the stool on its own.

Although Hermione followed him out, she still pouted and followed Roger proudly. In order to prevent her eyes from falling on Roger's broad shoulders, she forced herself to appreciate the surrounding scenery.

The Scottish Highlands are spectacular in winter. The vast and mysterious Forbidden Forest is covered in thick snow, as if it were wearing a glittering silver magic robe.

Not far away, the frozen Black Lake was bustling with activity. Many students were spinning gracefully on the ice, and from time to time there were cries of pain from falling.

"Wow, the ground is frozen as hard as rock!" Rogge led them to the edge of the Forbidden Forest. His wand spurted out a ball of blazing fire, quickly melting the snow and frozen soil under their feet.

Ariana tightened her checkered scarf and tilted her head to ask curiously, "Rogge, you can actually cook! Besides my brother Aberforth, you are the second wizard I know who can cook."

"Probably so."

"Ah!" Hermione opened her eyes wide in surprise and asked in a suspicious tone: "So, this is your first time cooking?! Otherwise, let's go back to the pub."

(End of this chapter)