"Little Sirius will soon be free again—"
"Smiling, Amorta said,"
"You spend all day in this room, and I'm sure you don't know what's happening outside, the Ministry of Magic has already published the truth on the Prophet Daily, and maybe in a few days, Wizarding will officially launch a trial against the real killer of the Potters—Pete Pettigrew, at that time I should attend, and after that, Sirius probably can return."
"Cleaver is happy for Little Sirius."
Hearing the news, Cleaver blinked its blood-shot eyes and said, it daringly raised its head and asked.
"Until Little Sirius returns home, and Regulus' funeral."
Well, as descendants of the same mother and belonging to the legitimate lineage of the Black family, the difference in treatment they enjoy is quite remarkable.
Amorta pursed his lips, did not answer Cleaver's question, he put his hand into his pocket, rubbed a while, a moment later, took out the exquisite locket that belonged to Salazar Slytherin himself and showed it to Cleaver.
This time, Cleaver's reaction was much 'normaler'.
Its bulbous, reddened eyes filled with tears instantly, and its body shook violently. It stared at the locket in Amorta's hand, showing an incredible expression.
"Y-Y. Oh, Cleaver can't believe it!"
Cleaver hesitantly extended his finger to touch the open locket, but he never mustered the courage to do so.
"Cleaver has tried so many times, but the powerful dark magic on the locket has always prevented Cleave from doing so. But you, Lord Brian, you have fulfilled Regulus's wish. You are the greatest wizard Cleave has ever seen!"
Amorta's cheeks twitched a few times. The old, toothy house-elf was quite adept at changing with the wind, but to be honest, it seems to have a great respect for Regulus Black.
"Yes, the magic on the locket has been destroyed."
Amorta said, while Cleave was already lying on the ground, sobbing loudly. He kept muttering something in his mouth.
Regulus's wish was also Cleave's obsession. For many years, it had been carrying the task that it could never complete, and had been living alone in pain. Now, Amorta has freed it from pain. It can be imagined that it is how grateful he is!
"Alright, Cleave—"
Amorta stopped Cleave from rolling on the ground with a soft voice,
"From now on, you can also live a little easier, uh, could you help me make some lunch? I'm a bit hungry——"
"No problem, Lord Brian!"
Cleave jumped up like a fish, wiped its snot with its hand, and excitedly prepared to go downstairs. Serving wizards is an instruction ingrained in the soul of house-elves, and they take pride in it.
"Since you can clean this house, Cleave," Amorta called out to Cleave who was running to the corner of the stairs, "Please clean yourself up before cooking!"
After enjoying a sumptuous lunch, Amorta returned to his room for a rest to alleviate some of the fatigue from the early attempt to control the titan skeleton, until the sun began to set, turning its golden hues into ruddy light. It was then that he opened his drowsy eyes and lazily got up from the bed.
Glancing at the clock on the wall, Amorta scowled and clapped his mouth. Perhaps because life has become more comfortable, he has felt lazy lately.
Regulus's body was placed in the room he had lived in, on the fifth floor, and Amorta's room was on the fourth floor. Out of respect for Regulus, Amorta came to a guest room on the third floor and spent some effort moving its furniture elsewhere and making changes. Then he ordered Cleaver not to enter the room again without being summoned.
Magical creatures possess intelligence that ordinary animals do not have. The vile witchbird, newly landed on the ground, screamed in agony. The sharp and scratching noise made by its beak and claws on the blackboard caused Amorta to feel a headache.
The Irish dwarf with two comical chestnut-colored mustaches was cursing Amorta with the most vile language it knew. If its body hadn't been restrained by a thin poisonous snake, it would probably have jumped up and hammered Amorta's knees. But even in this state, it didn't forget to make obscene gestures with its short thick hands.
Amorta waved his wand as calmly as ever, and the two squabbling little creatures simultaneously fainted and died.
The next magical experiment requires their souls to maintain a stable state, intense emotions are not conducive to the experiment.
The experiment on this spell had been carried out many times, and Amorta had already become an expert. After controlling the two small creatures to fly onto the experimental table, he closed his eyes to calm his mind. After a moment, when he reopened them, the purple eyes in front of him were devoid of any emotion and only contained cold intelligence and a desire for magical progress.
The outside world is full of spring, the mild warmth of the wind is intoxicating, while in the old Black family mansion, it seems to be experiencing a harsh winter.
A strand of pure white ice crystals quietly poked out from the gap beneath the locked door of the lab, spreading rapidly along the corridor on the third floor like ivy nourished by ample rain, covering the wall in a blink of an eye.
In the invisible world, a malevolent black evil magic was howling like a tar pit, guarding the door and waiting for orders. Cleave was shaking so much that it seemed as if every muscle in its body was trembling, yearning to escape from this house immediately. But the nature of a house-elf forced it to stay here and not leave.
It seemed as if a heavy fog had risen inside the lab.
The black silk mist filled with particles in the air, as if it were the ocean waves pulled by the moon, experiencing the rise and fall of tides. In this surging black tide, the only object emitting a white aura was the soul Amorta had extracted from the body of the vile witchbird.
The radiance emitted by the soul, as pure as the moonlight, carries a sense of viscosity. Because it has just separated from its body, the soul emitted by the vile witchbird is much brighter than those ghosts that have existed for hundreds or even thousands of years in Hogwarts.
Watching the soul, a joyous emotion rose up from the bottom of Amorta's heart, which he couldn't help but feel. Experience told him that success was on its way to him.
The wand cut through the air with an arcane trajectory, guided by a mysterious force. The floating black 'gravel' in the room converged into a pattern that looked like a symbol, an illustration, or an array at the tip of the wand, as if all rivers were converging into the sea. When this pattern appeared, its powerful and evil magic caused the air to tremble fiercely. The soul of the vile witchbird nearby also formed ripples like a lake's surface being ruffled by a gentle breeze.
Amorta's eyes narrowed as he held the wand against the pattern that had gathered evil will and immense magic, as if pushing a heavy object, slowly and laboriously bringing it closer to the soul of the vile witchbird.
At the moment of contact, a hideous screech suddenly resounded in the void, and the contour of the vile witchbird's soul began to violently tremble. The fear and despair emanating from it were so intense that even Cleave outside the door could feel it.
The dark pattern extended dozens of thin tendrils like plant roots, violently penetrating the soul's body. Originally pure soul was gradually becoming darker in color after being eroded by the pattern, emitting a dim glow with a hint of malevolence.
The mysteries of the soul are rarely seen. Amorta put aside all distractions, concentrating entirely on analyzing the various complexities of the soul suspended in mid-air. Combining his existing knowledge, he rapidly constructed a framework of knowledge for the soul system.
The bizarre transformation of the vile witchbird's soul lasted for ten minutes. When the pattern completely dissolved into its carrier, an invisible wave generated a gust of wind that pushed Amorta back a step.
Once the commotion subsided, a black spell with a flame-like appearance suddenly appeared before his eyes!
(Chapter End)
