Hogwarts: Voldemort, don't stop me from studying

Chapter 1000 Memory 4
Abigail, wrapped in an ill-fitting coat—an old garment given to her by the farm owner—sat on a small stool in the motel, staring blankly at the man who had bought her with a single piece of "paper."

He was a thin old man, who looked to be about sixty years old. His silver hair was neatly combed and tied into a loose bun at the back of his head. He had a thin face with deep nasolabial folds on both sides.

He was wearing a well-tailored turtleneck sweater with a tweed hunting jacket over it, and his posture was exceptionally upright, giving him a very imposing presence.

Abigail glanced at it timidly, then immediately lowered her head, her fingers unconsciously tugging at the ball of yarn on her sleeve.

The old man stood opposite Abigail, his voice neither gentle nor harsh, simply saying calmly, "They told me that you once caused space to fold for a moment?"

Abigail shrank back and whispered, "I'm sorry, sir... I don't understand..."

Although the old man spoke in a questioning tone, he didn't seem to need Abigail's answer. His gaze swept over the girl's pale face, disheveled hair, calloused and scarred little hands, and torn shoes.

Abigail awkwardly pulled her feet back under the stool.

The old man's gaze returned to the girl's eyes, and he seemed to be talking to himself:

"Fear, desire, the will to survive, untamed primal magic... a terrible life, yet it didn't breed any dark power..."

"It's amazing how you kids always surprise me; you're much more interesting than those boring adults."

Abigail's heart pounded; she dared not speak, much less look up at him.

The old man's gaze was terrifying, making the girl feel as if she were being pierced.

The person opposite her pulled up a chair and sat down. He didn't try to comfort her or reach out to touch her; he simply sat there and calmly asked:

"Tell me, what did you feel when that moment happened? Was it the space itself? Or some kind of pull on you? Or did you simply not want to be there?"

His question was rather strange and beyond Abigail's knowledge.

But what's even stranger is that she was able to understand the meaning behind it and subconsciously began to recall it.

The feeling was too vague, too fleeting... it seemed to vanish in an instant...

But some force compels the girl to relive that moment again and again, as if she were picking out a deeply hidden thread from a tangled mess.

It's hard.

However, children without many distracting thoughts have fewer "tangled threads" in their minds. She tried for a long, long time before finally grasping that fleeting flash of inspiration.

Abigail couldn't help but start talking, not even knowing what she was saying. When she came to her senses, she felt her mouth was dry, while the old man opposite her gave her a satisfied smile.

"As expected," he murmured, "Underage children are most likely to approach that level when their magic erupts..."

Abigail blinked and looked at him blankly.

The old man came to his senses, smiled slightly, and with a wave of his hand, a stream of clear spring water fell from the sky, landing perfectly into the hotel's glass.

"Have some water," the old man said, placing a cup in front of the astonished Abigail. "You must be thirsty."

Abigail dared not ask questions, nor dared she refuse; she could only slowly drink a few sips of water.

The old man looked at her obedient appearance, and the smile in his eyes deepened.

He leaned forward slightly and said earnestly:
“My child, what you possess is seen by some as the devil, by others as a blessing from God, but in my view it is actually a material… an extremely rare and unstable material.”

"Put it in the wrong furnace, and this material will destroy everything, including yourself; but in the hands of the right craftsman..."

His gaze seemed to penetrate her, revealing a much grander vision.

"—It can be forged into a key to open some…doors forgotten by the world."

Abigail still didn't understand; she just listened silently and blankly.

Seeing her gaze, the old man couldn't help but smile, amused that he was speaking to a child about things even adults might find difficult to accept. He changed his tone, leaning back in his chair, and said gently, "Your name is Selena Abigail, isn't it?"

Abigail breathed a sigh of relief when she finally understood the sentence and quickly replied, "Yes, sir."

“Then I’ll call you Sera from now on.” The old man smiled faintly and said, “My name is Sophie Reck, you can call me teacher. I will teach you some… special knowledge.”

Abigail whispered, "Special...knowledge?"

The old man magically produced an old wand, placed it in front of Abigail, and said, "Pick it up and wave it."

Abigail glanced at the old man, reached out and gently grasped the "stick"; then glanced at the old man again, and awkwardly swung it around.

Abruptly, as if a strange force surged through her arm, instantly passing through the wooden stick and emerging from its tip—

"boom!"

A burst of flame shot directly onto the opposite wall, leaving a large, black mark on the white wall.

Abigail was startled and threw the stick away with a "whoosh," leaping off the stool.

Before the stick even hit the ground, it was suddenly pulled by an invisible force, suspended in the air, and then slowly floated to Rex's side.

“Don’t be afraid,” the old man said. “It’s nothing dangerous, just a magic wand. And you, Sera, you are a witch.”

……

For the next six months, Abigail followed her "teacher" Rick, traveling to many different places. They would leave one city in an instant and arrive at another unfamiliar one.

Teacher Rick said it was a kind of magic called Apparition, and that's what she did when the magic erupted.

Unlike the first time she teleported to the brink of death, every subsequent apparition was extremely painful, but Abigail was afraid of being left behind, so she endured it without saying a word.

She learned some simple magic from Teacher Rick, such as the Cleansing Charm. Whenever Abigail happily reported her progress to her teacher, she would always receive a gentle praise, which was the happiest time of her day.

She could sense that Mr. Rick was taking her around not for tourism or work, but to search for something. Abigail knew she couldn't help; the only thing she could do was not to cause the old man any more trouble.

Until that day, a mysterious visitor arrived at the hotel where they were temporarily staying.

When she knocked on the door wearing a cloak, Abigail thought it was a door-to-door salesperson, but when she took off the cloak, Abigail gasped in surprise.

The visitor had a very strange appearance. She was shorter than Abigail, but her head was disproportionately large. Her nose was sharp and long, and her ears looked like two willow leaves stuck horizontally on her head.

She glanced at Abigail, then turned to Teacher Rick and asked, "You've taken on another student? Aren't you afraid that, like last time, they'll send you to the magic prison?"

Mr. Rick said calmly, "This child will not betray me."

"Why not?" the visitor said sharply. "You're so old, do you still believe in those boring things like love and loyalty?"

Mr. Rick leaned back in his chair and chuckled softly. "Because I'll ask Grimson to help my little Sera reconstruct those painful memories... By the way, did you like this news article?"

He placed the newspaper in front of the visitor.

Abigail was pouring water for a guest, so she glanced at it as well.

The newspaper featured a very handsome man, who was laughing silently with his head tilted back.

Having worked with Mr. Rick for so long, Abigail had gotten used to these moving photos. She secretly wondered, "Did something good happen to this person? They're smiling so happily..."

The news headline was very long, and Abigail didn't know many words yet, so she could only pick out the parts she did recognize and read them aloud in her mind, albeit haltingly:
"Thirteen... Black... Potters?"

(End of this chapter)