Hogwarts: Voldemort, don't stop me from studying

Chapter 993 The Dream Weaver

Braun frowned slightly and approached cautiously.

Around the cottage, several brightly colored blue jays perched fearlessly under the eaves, tilting their heads to sized up the visitors;

A fluffy squirrel, clutching an acorn, perched on the windowsill, its large, round eyes filled with childlike curiosity.

Braun even spotted one or two shy white-tailed deer peeking out from the edge of the woods a little further away, their eyes soft and bright.

Anyone would relax at the sight of this, but Braun became even more vigilant. He walked over almost silently, gently pushed open the door, and quickly slipped inside, head down and sideways.

The room was higher than expected, allowing Braun to stand up straight, but he could easily bump into various jars hanging from the rafters.

The place was dimly lit, with a cluttered and peculiar arrangement of items. The crooked bookshelves along the walls were crammed with parchment scrolls, and tools such as grinding bowls, hammers, and tongs were scattered on the workbench. Dried, unidentified plants hung everywhere, and the crucible on the stove was bubbling away.

It appears that its owner was here not long ago, but for some unknown reason temporarily left.

The most striking feature of the room was the opposite wall—where six or seven wands of varying lengths and materials hung prominently, like a hunter hanging an animal's head above the fireplace in the living room.

Abigail's expression shifted dramatically as more fragments of memory surged into her mind—

A cold, withered finger, its tip seemingly gleaming with silver light, was slowly pointing towards her. She stared blankly, even able to count the rough calluses on the finger, yet she had absolutely no intention of running away or resisting;

A hoarse, aged voice rang out at close range: "Forget it, forget those feelings that made you betray yourself... You hate wizards, they are your most hated enemies... You will be loyal to the Purifiers, loyal to... me..."

She opened her eyes on an old wooden bed, not knowing who she was, or even having the will to sit up. All she felt was a sense of emptiness and void, as if her soul had been hollowed out.

Suddenly, a soft laugh came from the side.

Abigail turned her head and saw Brolin standing not far away, with a condescending smile on his face that was both mocking and admiring.

Their eyes met, and Brolin seemed to realize something. He quickly adjusted his expression, strode over, and bent down to ask with concern, "How are you feeling, Abigail?"

……

Abigail gasped sharply, instinctively taking a few steps back before slamming her head against the table with a loud thud.

Braun swiftly reached out and caught a bottle that was about to fall, then turned to look at Abigail, who was covered in cold sweat, and said knowingly, "Remembered something?"

"I remember... I was here... I forgot everything..."

Abigail said in a dry voice.

Her heart was still pounding wildly in her chest. The emptiness and fear of being forcibly stripped of herself, even if it was just a few seconds of memory, made her dizzy, and her stomach felt like it was churning.

Braun stared at her for two seconds. Seeing that Abigail had no intention of explaining, she simply closed her eyes tightly. When she opened them again, all that remained in her eyes was hatred and determination.

He nodded, no longer paying attention to Abigail, and walked to the bookshelf, quickly flipping through the parchment scrolls.

—The crooked scratches, if not for their regular arrangement, would look like something a bored person had scribbled on a piece of paper.

Braun: "..."

—Great, I can't understand a single word.

He decided to take all of these back so his master could study them at his leisure—after all, his backpack had been enchanted with an Unseen Stretching Charm by Vader, so he could fit not only this small roll of paper, but even a hundred times more stuff inside.

Just as Braun continued his search—

"squeak……"

With a scraping sound, a wooden sliding door in the corner of the room, seemingly no different from the surrounding floor, was opened from below.

The two men suddenly became alert and drew their weapons with lightning speed. They saw a figure carrying a kerosene lamp climbing up the simple wooden ladder.

It was an old fairy, shorter than the average fairy, with a severely hunched back, and its dark brown skin covered with layers of wrinkles.

His pointed ears drooped, and his nose was long and sharp with tear-like scars along the edges. The clothes he wore looked like a wizard's robe, only shorter, making them more suitable for moving around in the forest.

When the old witch saw Abigail, who was on high alert inside the house, there was no surprise in her cloudy eyes. Instead, it was as if she had expected it.

He grinned, his voice hoarse, and said, "Ah...you've come back again, child. This time you were a little slower than I expected."

Abigail's heart pounded. Gripping her wand, she demanded sharply, "You are the Dreamweaver?"

“That’s what they call me.” The old goblin waved his hand. “If you need a name, you can call me Grimson.”

Abigail stared intently at him, a thousand questions swirling in her mind, but she opened her mouth and only managed to utter, "You... seemed to know I was coming?"

Grimson chuckled softly, walked to the bubbling cauldron, picked up a long-handled spoon, stirred it, and said, "Of course I know. Otherwise, why do you think... why are your memories starting to resurface?" Abigail's breath hitched: "You tampered with it?"

“Oh, don’t be so wary, child,” Grimson said slowly. “And tell your servants to put down their knives; those little things can’t hurt me.”

Abigail still gripped her wand tightly, just as Braun still held his knife; neither of them showed any sign of relaxing their grip.

Grimson sighed, extended his slender fingers, and snapped them—

"Snapped!"

"boom!"

The knife in Braun's hand slipped instantly and embedded itself in the wall like lightning, the hilt still vibrating with a "buzzing" sound.

“Look, this toy is no threat at all... and so is the wand in your hand.”

Grimson's gaze swept over the wands displayed on the wall, his meaning clear.

"Why?" Abigail pressed on persistently. "Why do you want me to regain my memories? Brolin's request shouldn't be this, should it?"

"A little bit of 'insurance'."

Grimson readily admitted it.

“When Brolin brought you here last time, wanting me to completely erase your memories… I left a backdoor. As time goes by, or if you are subjected to strong stimulation, the real memories will slowly seep out, like olive oil in a barrel.”

He winked slyly and said, “But you’re not much of an actor, kid. They realized something was wrong and asked me what happened. I said you’d learned a little bit of rudimentary Occlumency before, and the resistance was stronger than expected… They believed me, hehehe… a bunch of idiots.”

"So why are you helping me?" Abigail ignored his assessment of Brolin and the others, and asked again, "Aren't you the 'Dreamweaver' among the Purifiers?"

"'Dreamweavers'? Hmph! We've been working together for so long that Brolin and his cronies have treated me like a dog, completely forgetting why I even worked with them in the first place!"

Grimson said angrily, putting down his spoon, turning around, his eyes fixed on Abigail, his tone becoming more serious:
“Because I see it clearly, child. Brolin… he is not a true warrior, not the one who can accomplish the great cause of ‘purification’ with me.”

"Since you've gotten this far, I guess you've probably already figured it out—Blorin has long since secretly allied himself with certain wizarding forces. To him, the Purifiers are nothing more than stepping stones to climb the ladder, tools to use you hot-blooded fools!"

"He only wanted to use this identity to gain benefits; he had no intention of truly eradicating the scourge of wizards in the world."

"Ha, he thinks I don't know! Doesn't he realize how many people he's sent here... I already know everything from the brains of those poor wretches!"

Grimson was annoyed for a moment, but seeing Abigail, he said with satisfaction:

“Thank goodness for you, Abigail… I see flames and hope in your eyes! You are one of the few who truly uphold the meaning of the Purifier’s existence, more steadfast and more valuable than him.”

"But first, you have to wake up and see the true colors of the parasites and traitors around you, and you can no longer be deceived and used by them."

"Of course, I can't just watch you give up on your dreams completely, or even turn to the wizarding world—what's the difference between that and death?"

"You are a warrior! A vengeful spirit! I haven't lied to you about that... So, child, don't betray your past self!"

“So…” Abigail trembled slightly, “For this, to make me break with Brolin and the others, you have repeatedly altered my memories, yet you haven’t let me completely forget everything?”

"Yes! But don't worry, I've kept all your memories!"

Grimson extended a withered hand and said fervently, "If you promise to uphold the Purger's faith and continue to cooperate with me, I can return your true memories to you completely!"

"This was your dream all along, wasn't it? Cooperation would be completely cost-effective for you, allowing you to escape Brolin's control and gain the complete loyalty of the other Purifiers!"

"How about it? Let's renegotiate the contract?"

Abigail looked at the hand in front of her, then at the eyes opposite her—the fairy's cloudy eyes became round and bright, filled with an air of unwavering confidence and joy.

A tremendous sense of absurdity washes over you.

[—He actually thought I would agree? Who does he think I am?]

Just as she was about to speak, Braun, who had been silent all along, suddenly spoke up:
"How can you guarantee that what you return to her is her true memory, and not a distorted story you've fabricated?"

Grimson's smile vanished instantly. He whirled around, glaring fiercely at Braun, and shrieked:
"Who do you think you are? Do you have the right to speak here? Abigail, is this the servant you brought? How dare he question me like this?!"

Abigail took a deep breath, suppressing the turmoil in her heart. She didn't correct Braun's identity, but simply stepped forward and said firmly, "If you want to cooperate with me, answer his questions, Grimson!"

The old witch's expression shifted several times before she slowly said, "Guarantee? Hmph... Because when I want to modify or control someone's memories, they have absolutely no chance to resist. Like this—"

Before he finished speaking, his hand drew a short, jet-black wand with incredible speed, and with a quick flick, a bolt of silver light shot out from the tip of the wand, heading straight for Braun!
(End of this chapter)