Alchemy professor at Hogwarts

Chapter 72
The last day of the Christmas holidays.

Hardy slept until noon before opening his eyes lazily.

He yawned, and just waved his wand, towel and clean professor robe, and he was obediently waiting beside the four-poster bed.

After a simple wash, Hardy was full of energy, "This is what a holiday should look like."

With a move of his right hand, the animal skin paper wrapped in dark mist flew over and landed firmly in his hand.

It was the black magic item I got from Oxyzogrui in the Three Broomsticks bar yesterday.

"Reveal the truth!"

Hardy spread out the animal skin and poked vigorously with his magic wand, a large dark red blood immediately gushed out of thin air.

In an instant, the entire alchemy professor's lounge was filled with a faint smell of blood.

Frowning, to be honest, Hardy didn't have much affection for black magic items.

But sometimes I have to admit that only they can do some special things.

"A professor at Hogwarts, who has secretly touched black magic items, if someone finds out, he will probably be expelled, right?"

Hardy blinked, the corners of his mouth raised, and he swung his wand to seal off the entire lounge.

As long as it wasn't a sudden attack by a powerful wizard like Dumbledore, Hardy would have enough time to react.

Seeing the large bloodstains forming a line of blood characters, Hardy began to study the curse recorded on it.

It was a curse to heal the loss of one's own soul and its negative effects at the expense of another's soul.

"The conditions of use are quite harsh." After reading this so-called "Punishment Curse", Hardy thought deeply.

According to the records on the animal skin paper, the effect of the punishment spell does not depend on the caster's will.

It is a passive evil spell, which requires the soul of the sacrifice to touch the caster actively, and there must be no conflict or resistance between the two parties.

Hardy took advantage of the situation and speculated: "If someone is not willing, then it will have to go through a careful design."

This kind of curse related to sacrifice, like the magic cup, originated in Africa.

In that barren land, there was a period of extremely turbulent dark ages.

Some frenzied believers have gone a long way on the road of sacrifice for the birth of the "god" in their minds.

The punishment curse is an insurance set up by Hardy for himself.

He has recently noticed that his sense of smell is gradually disappearing.

His condition is likely to be deteriorating.

If he hadn't found a way to heal himself before the worst of it happened.

Then, he would not mind randomly picking a vicious lucky guy in Azkaban.

"Oh, Hardy, you have never been a kind and pure good wizard."

Staring at himself in the half-length mirror, Hardy showed a big smile.

The self in the mirror was also smiling, and he said, "Yes, that's right, I have my own principles and bottom line."

Putting away the animal skin paper that recorded the curse, Hardy released Riddle's diary again.

A small half bottle of ink fell down, causing the slightly "tired" diary to flip through the pages immediately.

"Hello, Ollivander."

Riddle was the first to write.

Hardy deliberately waited for 5 minutes before writing with a quill pen dipped in ink.

"No, to be honest, Riddle, I'm not doing well."

"Since I mentioned the third-generation Dark Lord to you last time, he seemed to have noticed something. In the dream, he cast a curse of torture on me all the time."

"Would you like to talk to me about him again? Hagrid wasn't such a bright student in my day, you know."

In the diary, Riddle replied quickly, a little eagerly.

This is exactly what Hardy wanted.

Another 5 minutes passed.

"Yes, as all the professors at Hogwarts say," Hardy wrote, "Hagrid is too good at hiding."

"Dumbledore said that Hagrid was ambitious and cautious enough that even the Sorting Hat couldn't see through his mind."

Hardy praised Hagrid to the fullest in the stories he made up.

"The real him should be the best Slytherin, the most proud descendant of Salazar."

"Best Slytherin? Maybe not."

Riddle began to push back on Hardy's point.

"I don't know if that's correct, but everyone thinks so."

Hardy continued: "If he hadn't taken the initiative to stand up and declare that he was willing to be responsible for most of the black magic activities, the British wizarding community would not know so much."

"Wait," Riddle's handwriting began to grow wild, which represented his anger.

"You mean, all this stems from Hagrid's self-confession?"

Hardy seemed to be able to hear Riddle's sarcasm, "This is ridiculous, what does he say? The current public perception is so easy to be manipulated by others?"

"Of course, why doubt? Who would be willing to stand up and bear so much crime and hatred? Unless——"

Hardy put more pressure on the quill. "Those black magic activities, he did it, or at least planned it behind the scenes."

"You may not understand that the British wizarding world was once shrouded in the shadow of Voldemort, but Hagrid just used a little trick to let a baby in swaddle easily destroy the other party."

Speaking of this, Riddle's diary began to flip the pages violently, "Is this what he thinks it is?"

"Otherwise?" Hardy wrote after another 5 minutes.

"According to Hagrid's statement, a speculator who has been given a little guidance by him will forget about it after achieving sporadic results."

"Yes, that's right, what Hagrid was talking about was Voldemort." Hardy held down the diary that was shaking wildly with one hand.

"Arrogant Voldemort wants to get rid of Hagrid's control and try to provoke him."

"Then--"

Hardy revealed a thick sarcasm between the lines, "Hagrid doesn't need to do it himself, a baby named Harry Potter is enough to destroy everything Voldemort owns."

"The Death Eaters who once followed Voldemort quickly realized the great mistake they had made."

"They knelt before Hagrid's statue and begged for repentance, spurning Voldemort's arrogance and arrogance."

"They walked spontaneously in the magical world of various countries, trying their best to praise Hagrid, the greatest Dark Lord."

After writing so much in one breath, Hardy couldn't help but have an illusion, as if he was really a best-selling novelist who has been famous for many years.

It turns out that Gilderoy Lockhart feels like writing novels like this.

Hardy smacked his lips in satisfaction, not bad.

At the same time, Lockhart in the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor's office suddenly sneezed, "My God, this Christmas is really cold."

Swinging his magic wand to make the fire in the fireplace more vigorous, Lockhart held a quill and started writing his new novel according to a book of "Biography of Famous People: Salazar Slytherin".

"The hero of our story was born into a noble wizarding family, and before he even learned to walk, he was able to grasp his parents' wand and cast spells..."

Just after writing a few sentences, Lockhart frowned, crumpled the parchment in front of him into a ball and threw it out dissatisfied.

In the corner, balls of parchment had piled up into a hill.

Not long after, Lockhart angrily threw away the quill in his hand and smashed the pen holder on the table, "Merlin, why do I have to torture myself like this."

"I should just do what I do best!"

"Dumbledore, an old liar!"

In the office, Lockhart was venting his dissatisfaction at the top of his voice.

He kicked the legs of the desk angrily, but in the next second he hugged his toes and howled heart-piercingly.

Lockhart stood alone on one foot in the office, gasping for breath and jumping.

His right foot accidentally stepped on the pen holder on the ground, his whole body tilted, and with a "bang", his butt fell heavily to the ground.

"Whoosh!"

The pen holder flew out and just hit the ink on the table, and the jet black ink spread rapidly, destroying everything on Lockhart's desk.

"Ah, no—" Lockhart stared until his eyes nearly popped out.

"Curse! It's a curse! The curse taught by Defense Against the Dark Arts is real...I hate Dumbledore, I hate Hogwarts!"

(End of this chapter)