manynovel Chapter 113 Granger sacrifices himself for his younger brother
Chapter 113 Granger sacrifices himself for his younger brother
Chapter 114 Granger sacrifices himself for his younger brother
When Ron and Hermione heard that the dark magic item was in Harry's hands, they were so shocked that they almost jumped out of their chairs.
Upon hearing Harry mention the artifact again, the two exchanged bewildered glances.
"A magical artifact?" Hermione touched her lips with her slender finger, pondering, "Does it refer to a rare magical item?"
"But why did you leave it behind? This thing must be dangerous, right?"
Ron couldn't figure it out no matter what he did, and scratching his red hair, he said, "Since Harry chose to keep this notebook, it must be more valuable than handing it over to the Ministry of Magic, right?"
Upon hearing this, Harry clapped his hands and laughed, "Brother, you're a wise fool! You're truly a shrewd man!"
He then proceeded to recount the secrets of the Horcruxes and the Basilisk parasitism in detail. Before he had even finished speaking, Hermione's face had already turned pale, and Ron was speechless, as if he were a statue.
Ron stammered, "So... the mysterious man is living inside the book?"
"No, Harry means he's been subdued by the Basilisk."
Hermione carefully took the book of monsters, poked the tightly closed snake eye on the cover, and asked, "Harry, does this diary, which combines the basilisk and the mysterious man, have any special effects?"
"I just can't figure it out, which is why I came to ask someone as astute as you, elder sister."
It turns out that during his time recuperating, Harry had thoroughly examined this evil book.
Even if you soak it in yellow soup, not a single page will get wet; even if you throw it into a brazier, it won't burn a bit. But alas, apart from these two unique features, no other wonderful use can be found.
When asked, Salazar also said that he shouldn't have only such rudimentary talents. It's a pity that Dumbledore visited him day and night, and Lady Pomfrey was very attentive to his well-being.
Even though it was just the two of them, they surrounded the sickbed like an iron barrel, leaving no space for Salazar to observe and discuss.
Hermione opened the book and examined it closely, but still couldn't figure it out.
She pondered, "If Salazar is right, and a soul that loses its memories and emotions becomes a magical hybrid, then its repetitive behavior must be the most important thing in its subconscious."
"Otherwise, all the strange things that happen in all the haunted places in the world should be the same."
Ron frowned in thought, then said, "Since the mysterious person manipulates others by communicating through diaries, why don't we try writing in them too?"
Harry shook his head. "I've tried this bird book a thousand times, whether it's written in ink or blood, whatever material I use, but this fellow just keeps eating and doesn't give a single response."
Upon hearing this, Hermione frowned and gently bit her lower lip.
That shouldn't be the case. How could a magical item that's based on a diary have no reaction when you write on it?
Ron shrugged. "If you ask me, we should just wait until we get back tonight and ask Mr. Salazar."
"No. He can't see me, I don't want to ask him."
Hermione was lost in thought, a row of teeth marks appearing on her lower lip, when suddenly her eyes lit up.
"I see!"
"Harry, you shouldn't have questioned him!"
Harry quickly cupped his hands and said, "Please explain, elder sister."
"Think about it, since he's become a mindless mixture of magic, how could he possibly respond to you?"
"You should give him the order directly!"
Hermione immediately pulled a quill from her bosom and wrote in the book:
I want a glass of pumpkin juice.
As I finished writing, I felt my own magic surge forth and seep into the book.
"It really worked!" Hermione exclaimed, her spirits lifting. "I can feel my magic being drained!"
Ron muttered those words to himself, then asked doubtfully, "Pumpkin juice? Isn't there some right in front of you?"
"It's not the same thing for me to pick it up myself versus for him to hand it to me."
Before Hermione could finish speaking, a thunderous cheer erupted from the other side of the banquet. Fred and George had already jumped onto their chairs, raising their silver cups and shouting.
"Guys, let's cheer for the Lion King!"
"Move aside, Fred, I want to get this party started."
George took the firework tube and lit the fuse with his wand. Suddenly, he felt an unbearable itch in his nostrils, and with a "sneeze," the firework tube slipped from his hand and fell to the table.
No sooner said than done. The opening of the pot was directly facing Harry. As the fuse burned out, a fiery serpent burst forth, spreading like wildfire. It first pierced through the gaping mouth of the roast suckling pig, then swept past the mountain of chickens, ducks, geese, and fish, and shot straight at the silver pot in front of the three of them.
With a loud bang, the silver pot was blasted three zhang high into the air, spinning wildly in mid-air. When it fell, it landed squarely on Hermione's head.
The pumpkin juice cascaded down like a waterfall, soaking her completely, making her look like a drowned rat.
Upon seeing this, George immediately sat down and buried his head deep in his hands without saying a word.
Ron's eyes popped out of his head, his chin drooped to his chest, and he couldn't close his mouth for a long time.
"Is this... a coincidence? Or did this happen because you wrote that sentence?"
On a normal day, if Hermione were to have someone throw a bucket of sweet juice over their head, she would have already used a groin kick and two throat locks to teach the little thief who threw the juice a lesson.
Unexpectedly, after being thoroughly soaked, she showed no anger or resentment. Her rosy face, glistening with water, blossomed with a radiant glow, and her phoenix eyes shone brightly.
"I guessed right! The mysterious person, now devoid of self-awareness, will only act according to what's written in the notebook!"
"What I just wrote wasn't perfect enough. I need to write it in more detail so that it can fully understand it."
Hermione's pen flew across the page, now with a hundred-word limit added:
I need a glass of non-toxic pumpkin juice from Hogwarts, and it needs to be poured into the glass next to me within an hour…
Ron was puzzled by the detail in her writing. "Does it have to be this detailed? I only write like this when I'm working on a Potions class paper."
Harry and Hermione cast a cleansing spell and laughed, "As the ancients said, 'A misspelling is as small as a hair's breadth, and the difference is as great as a thousand miles.' If you write so carelessly, I'm afraid this evil book will misread the characters and think that it's going to knock down the man nicknamed 'Pumpkin Juice' in the martial arts world, chop him into a pulp, and pour it into a cup to drink as juice."
"Harry's right. Have you forgotten the example Professor Flitwick gave when we learned the Levitation Charm in our first year?"
Hermione, without looking up, said, "That man only mispronounced a single syllable, and yet he was ridden by a bison."
"Things involving magic cannot be taken lightly."
Hermione wrote with swift, flowing strokes, quickly producing over a hundred characters. But as she finished the last stroke, her face turned ashen, and most of her magic was drained away.
His body swayed twice, like a willow in the wind, and his head was about to fall into the table of wine and meat.
Harry reacted quickly and caught her, saying, "Big sister, be careful."
"Oh, Harry, I'm fine, I'm just a little dizzy... It must be because I wrote too many restrictive words, which increased the magical drain on the journal..."
Just as they were talking, Percy grabbed George by the collar and came toward the three of them.
"Stop making me talk nonsense, George. What's the big deal if Hermione kicks you?" Percy said irritably. "If you've done something wrong, you should admit it."
George squeezed his legs together, leaned to the side, and said cautiously, "Uh... sorry, Hermione. But I have to clarify, that firework wasn't a prank, I just accidentally sneezed..."
He kept talking and then quickly took a silver pot and filled Hermione's cup with pumpkin juice.
"Don't be angry. If you absolutely must kick me—could you let me use an armor spell first?"
Hermione stared at the glass of pumpkin juice for a long while, then suddenly smiled. "It's okay, George, we're friends. I've already forgiven you."
Upon hearing this, George sensed something was wrong. "You might as well kick me. If that doesn't work, I won't use the armor charm."
"They've already forgiven you, why are you still looking for a beating?" Percy grabbed George by the collar and dragged him back.
After the two left, Hermione tossed her hair back, picked up the silver cup, and drank the pumpkin juice. Only then did her face regain some color.
She grinned and said, "Looks like we've figured out how to use this book."
Ron swallowed hard and clicked his tongue, "No wonder it's a magical item made from the soul of a mysterious person. With this book, even murder won't be detected."
Hermione shook her head. "That would require an enormous amount of magic; the restrictive words would need to fill at least a page."
"And have you forgotten what Harry said? Professor Dumbledore put a curse on the notebook, so I guess it can't kill anyone."
Hermione closed the book and solemnly handed it to Harry, saying, "Harry, you must use this diary carefully, and it's best not to tell anyone about its existence."
Harry glanced at the book and pushed it back, saying, "I'm a rough man, good with knives and sticks, but not with this kind of delicate stuff."
"As the saying goes, a precious artifact needs a wise master, and a fine steed needs a discerning eye to recognize its worth. If this book is not given to my elder sister, then there will be no one else who will appreciate it."
Hermione was taken aback for a moment, then stammered, "Huh, Harry, you, you mean you're going to give me this diary?"
Harry laughed loudly and pointed at Ron, saying, "I don't think you're the type to be used to such exquisite things."
“That’s right, Hermione, I don’t think anyone is more suited to use this diary than you,” Ron agreed. “If I were to do it, I might end up writing myself to death.”
Despite Hermione's thousand words of apology for their insistence on declining, only one word came to her lips.
"Um."
Harry slapped the table and laughed, "That's what brothers are like, no need for formalities."
Then she asked, "Elder sister, do you have any catchy names for this book? You should know that this book doesn't have a name yet."
"Want to choose a name?"
"Then let's call it... Death Diary?"
Just then, a clear shout came from the head of the table.
"Please be quiet, little wizards."
Everyone turned to look, and there stood Dumbledore, the speaker.
Once the surroundings were quiet, Dumbledore said, "I think everyone just saw that Harry, who killed the Basilisk, has recovered and returned from the hospital."
After he finished speaking, thunderous applause erupted from the audience, shaking the heavens.
"And as you may have noticed, Mr. Colin, Miss Penelope, and Mr. Flint, who were petrified earlier, are also in the crowd."
"Here, I would like to express my sincere gratitude to Mrs. Flint of the Board of Trustees. If it weren't for her timely provision of mandrake, these three students would probably have had to wait until the end of the semester, until Professor Sprout's mandrake matured, before they could recover."
In any other house, there would have been cheers by now. But Flint was from Slytherin, and all that could be heard from the Slytherin throng was a few scattered slaps. The hundreds of people from the Gryphon, Hound, and Badger houses all glared at him coldly, snorting under their noses.
Readers have heard that when the Basilisk was rampant, Slytherin and his gang took advantage of its power to act arrogantly and domineeringly.
After the basilisk was defeated, it was discovered that the mastermind was from Slytherin, and that he had over a hundred people working in his place. Now that the Ministry of Magic is investigating, everyone claims to have been bewitched. How can anyone believe such an explanation?
Seeing this, Dumbledore could only sigh inwardly.
It seems we'll really need Harry's help when school starts next year...
He smiled and said, "The turbulent days are finally over, and thankfully we haven't lost anyone."
"I guess your families are mostly worried, so I've decided to give you a five-day holiday so you can spend time with your families."
Upon hearing this, the entire courtyard erupted in cheers, with Fred and George wishing they could carry Dumbledore on their shoulders as well.
Wood couldn't contain himself any longer and stood up, asking, "Professor Dumbledore, will the Quidditch tournament still be held this semester?"
"Oh, Wood, you should consider our teaching schedule. Or perhaps everyone should agree to turn these five days of holiday into Quidditch matches."
"I disagree!"
"I choose to take a vacation!"
Fred and George both shouted in unison, "I don't play Quidditch!"
Wood glared at the two of them and sat down sullenly.
"A five-day holiday!" Ron exclaimed excitedly. "Harry, Hermione, what are your plans?"
Harry laughed and said, "I must go to Nottingham with Professor Flitwick so that the goblin can take my knife back."
"Oh! Can I come with you? I also want to see what the fairy king's descendants look like."
"That's alright, we can just add my name to the graduation papers." He then turned to Hermione and asked, "Would you like to come along, elder sister?"
"Ah, of course," Hermione said with a smile, snapping out of her reverie. "There's really no need to go home these next few days."
The three of them high-fived to seal their agreement, and then began a grand feast. Large chunks of roasted meat were torn apart, and large bowls were filled with butter. Knives and forks clattered together, and the table was a mess of cups and plates amidst laughter.
When curfew arrived, all the students stayed in their dormitories writing letters home and packing their belongings.
Hermione remained curled up on the four-poster bed, taking several bottles of potions purchased by Tofred from her bosom and arranging them. She then unfolded her death diary, picked up a quill, and intently wrote:
Harry Potter, the savior, will leave Hogwarts at 9 a.m. the day after tomorrow to travel to Nottingham in search of the goblin king's descendant to reforge the broken sword.
As soon as she finished speaking, before the ink was even dry, Hermione suddenly felt all the magic drain from her body. She quickly grabbed some potions and drank several bottles. Once her face regained color and she caught her breath, she picked up her pen again to continue writing.
But an unexpected change occurred during this process: Harry Potter's sword was not only successfully reforged, but it became even more powerful than before, comparable to the Gryffindor sword...
Before I could finish writing, I suddenly heard a continuous ticking sound.
Looking down, I saw several spots of blood blooming on the paper, and the stench was overwhelming.
Hermione was stunned for a moment, then raised her hand to touch her philtrum, only to find her fingers covered in scarlet blood.
The sorcery, though wondrous, comes at a high price. Words written become reality, Tom secretly reports. Ordinary tricks use magic in vain; to turn it into a divine weapon is like climbing to heaven. Hermione's heart is set on Harry; blood splatters like flowers, true love prevails. To find out what happens next, stay tuned for the next chapter.
(End of this chapter)