Hogwarts: Voldemort, don't stop me from studying

Chapter 996 You are such a good person
Abigail was stunned for a long while, until Braun squatted by the stream, washing away the obvious bloodstains on his body, before she suddenly realized—

Grimson is dead.

The dream weaver who held her past and could tell her who she truly was had become a mute corpse, her brains smeared on the stone, dark red liquid spreading through the cracks between the moss.

A profound sense of bewilderment instantly overwhelmed her.

She still didn't know who she really was... nor did she know how much of her past memories were real, and how much was just fabricated by that fairy.

Braun wiped the water off his hands and walked over from the creek. When he saw Abigail's expression, he paused and then glanced in the direction of the cabin.

“Go back and take a look,” Braun said succinctly. “That fairy said he could ‘return’ your memories to you. He can’t possibly store every memory he’s ever handled in his head. There must be a place for it.”

—If he hadn't casually destroyed or discarded it.

Abigail understood what Braun hadn't finished saying. She nodded silently and turned to follow Braun.

After walking a few steps, the two suddenly felt that something was wrong with the sound.

They turned around at the same time and saw the cloak that had been quietly draped over was actually manipulating the fairy's corpse—

It circled the corpse several times, first pulling at its clothes, then its legs, and finally, probably disgusted by the blood all over its body, it pulled up one of the corpse's arms instead.

If the puppet's nerves could transmit emotions, Braun's forehead veins would definitely be throbbing right now.

"What are you doing?" he frowned and said in an unfriendly tone, "Don't play with everything, throw it away!"

"No!" the cloak argued. "I want to wear it!"

Braun said disdainfully, "Why are you wearing it? Do you think you're too clean?"

The cloaked figure argued, "Although this old guy is dead, his corpse might still be of some use, right? Don't many dark magic spells like to use blood, bones, and the like for identification? Even Voldemort used his father's blood when he resurrected, didn't he?"

Braun: "..."

Although I hate to admit it, this guy's idea seems to make some sense!
Seeing his silence, the cloak immediately began to flutter: "How about it? Don't you think Lord Cloak is wise and mighty? Here's what we'll do: as long as you help me carry this thing, I'll forgive your rude tone and your misunderstanding of my wisdom!"

As it spoke, it dragged the goblin toward Braun, blood dripping onto the grass, its trousers scraping against the ground, and one of its shoes falling off.

Braun's gaze became even more disdainful, even carrying a hint of "Why don't you just dream?"

He turned and walked away, rejecting the cloak's offer with his actions, but he didn't insist on throwing it away.

The cloak paused for a moment, then turned to face Abigail. Before he could speak, the woman seemed not to have seen him and quickened her pace to catch up with Braun.

Cloak: "...Are they all so lazy? What lazy people!"

It turned its head to "look" at Grimson, pondered for a moment, and nodded to itself, as if it had made up its mind.

Then, a corner of the cloak parted and wrapped around Grimson's wrist like a rope, lifting the goblin up and making him float about two or three feet off the ground, swaying and slowly flying alongside the two people in front of him.

Then, Abigail turned around and saw an even more bizarre and terrifying scene—

A dark cloak, unworn by anyone, floated in mid-air, below which hung the corpse of a goblin with its head sunken. The corpse hung limply, swaying slightly with the movement of the cloak, its toes occasionally brushing against the grass on the ground.

The afterglow of the setting sun shone down from the mountains, illuminating them and giving everything a blood-red hue.

Accompanying this was the sound of the fairy's blood dripping all the way down—"drip, drip, drip," as if it were never-ending.

Abigail, who was originally a fierce warrior who wouldn't even utter a sound even if someone stabbed her in the stomach, suddenly shivered and goosebumps on her arms reappeared.

She endured for a moment, but finally could not suppress the eerie feeling that sent chills down her spine. She stopped and silently let the cloak float in front of her.

"Thank you, you're so kind."

As he passed by her, the cloak politely nodded in thanks, while complaining, "...that bastard Braun couldn't have waited for me a minute."

This time, Abigail no longer felt like the dead man was watching her from behind, but the wide cloak swaying in the wind and the corpse were constantly in her view, so the eeriness hadn't lessened much. She remained silent for a while, then finally sighed and followed him, saying, "Mr. Cloak, let me help you carry it."

As she spoke, she waved her wand and cast a levitation spell on the corpse.

"Wow, you've really been a great help!" the cloak exclaimed happily. "To be honest, carrying this thing makes me feel a little... well... actually, I don't really mind it, but I'm worried that my master might dislike it when he wears me in the future!"

It seemed to suddenly remember that Abigail was the one doing the work, and quickly added:
"Wizards are so good! Look, using the levitation charm, so clean and respectable! So professional! Anyway, if you ever need cloak services again—whether it's for warmth, wind protection, or even as a rope in an emergency—just call me! I guarantee it's a million times better than those dull, stupid cloaks on the market!"

Abigail's lips twitched; she didn't want to say a word.

However, she is now "carrying" the fairy's corpse. Although she still feels a chill, the subtle sense of control gradually makes her horror fade away, and even her resentment towards the "Dream Weaver" seems to be purified in the process.

Not long after, the group returned to the dilapidated little house.

Braun quickly searched the room but found no trace of Abigail's memories; however, he did gather some potentially useful information:

Ancient parchment scrolls and thick books on the bookshelf, rare herbs and minerals hanging on the shelves, and a few wands that look to have some history, which are used as decorations by the fairies.

After a quick search, the two opened the movable wooden door that the fairy had previously crawled out of.

Beneath the door panel, a narrow staircase extends downwards, and in the darkness, a very unique smell, like the scent of broomstick oil, permeates the air.

"Fluorescence."

Abigail spoke softly, and a gentle light emanated from the tip of her wand, dispelling the darkness.

The basement was much more spacious than I had imagined, almost three times the size of the small cabin on the ground. The walls were covered with all sorts of strange forging tools, and the workbench and display shelves held many completed or semi-finished magical artifacts.

Fairies are born half alchemists. After learning, they can almost be called the top craftsmen in the magical world, and the weapons they forge sometimes have very peculiar properties.

However, compared to top alchemists, fairies, while skilled in precise manufacturing, lacked a certain amount of unrestrained imagination and creativity, which led them to be regarded only as craftsmen rather than recognized as alchemists.

Abigail stroked the gleaming weapons—daggers, hammers, crossbow bolts, longswords, scimitars…

Each one was sharpened, making them extremely razor-sharp.

She could almost see the goblin Grimson, filled with such deep-seated hatred, forging these weapons day and night, hoping one day to personally slay the wizard.

However, it was not brave enough to leave the sanctuary to seek revenge; it was also too stingy, having crafted so many weapons, but whether it looked down on the Purifiers or did not trust them, it did not give a single one to Brolin and the others.

Suddenly, a loud, boisterous shout came from outside the access door:

"Hey! You two, come quick! Look what I've found! I guarantee you'll be amazed!"

Abigail snapped out of her reverie, suppressing her occasional sentimentality, and helped Braun pack up all the magical items in the basement. Then, the two of them left the basement via the stairs.

Behind the hut was a stone building shaped like a steamed bun, which looked like a barn, hidden among tall trees and inconspicuous.

The cloak was fluttering about, calling out as it carelessly tossed the corpse into the grass by the door. Upon seeing the two, it excitedly pointed to an open stone door and shouted:
"Haha, I knew blood was useful! Look, look! Isn't this what you've been looking for?"

Braun went in first, followed closely by Abigail. Once inside, both of them involuntarily held their breath.

The "barn" contained no other miscellaneous items, only rows of simple wooden frames built along the walls.

On the wooden shelf, countless crystal bottles were neatly and densely packed together. Each bottle contained a wisp of silver mist, which slowly rotated and emitted a pearly luster.

memory.

Thousands upon thousands of memories were stolen, altered, or simply sealed away by Grimson, the "dream weaver." They lie quietly in this crystal prison, like a galaxy solidified by time.

Abigail's heart pounded. Her past, her lost self, perhaps... lay right here!
　One update tonight

　　
　
(End of this chapter)