days at Hogwarts

Nine floors underground, Department of Mysteries.

The chandelier swayed slowly, and the dim candlelight barely illuminated the spacious room. A glass jar filled with a dark green unknown liquid was placed in the center of the room. Brains like fish floated lightly in the liquid, and when they approached the glass, the gray-white cortex covered with grooves was vaguely visible.

Voldemort stared at the brain floating in the glass jar. His bloodless face was reflected in the liquid. A pale mass floated with the ripples. It was impossible to tell whether it was a reflection or the brain in the jar. The scene was indescribably weird.

He gradually became fascinated by the sight. His pupils relaxed naturally and his eyes became slightly unfocused, as if he was immersed in the world in the glass tank, swimming with those brains, thinking with them, communicating with them, their thoughts blending together as if they were one.

At this moment, someone walked in, and almost at the moment the footsteps sounded, Voldemort's vertical pupils suddenly contracted, and scarlet blood light bloomed in his eyes.

"Bella..."

"Owner."

"Rookwood came to see me not long ago. He said that you were tortured crazy by the Aurors of the Ministry of Magic. Is that true?"

"I'm crazy? Just because of those idiots in the Ministry of Magic?" Bellatrix laughed out loud, the sharp and piercing sound echoed throughout the room, she laughed so hard that tears came out.

When she had stopped laughing, she wiped her eyes and said sinisterly, "These young Aurors don't know anything about torture. Their Cruciatus Curse is just a useless red light. Rookwood should know that only with real malice can you make those poor creatures wail under the wand!"

Voldemort narrowed his eyes slightly, with a bit of pleasure on his face. "Yes, if it was the group of Aurors led by Mad-Eye Moody decades ago, they might still cause us trouble, but those guys are old now. Mad-Eye Moody is suspicious all the time. Crouch, who advocates iron-blooded methods, has become the material for his master's resurrection. The Wiptur brothers are dead, the Longbottoms have become timid, the hardliner Harold Minkan stepped down, and those who were elected ministers later were all idiots! Especially Cornelius Fudge. We can rise again thanks to his help..."

Bellatrix lowered her head and said in a heavy tone: "Only the damn Dumbledore..."

"Be patient, the final victory will definitely belong to us."

“I never had any doubt about it.”

Bellatrix paused, hesitated for a moment, and said, "Master, Severus..."

"He has proven his loyalty for the time being, but..." Voldemort slowly approached, stared at the witch in front of him, and said softly, "I know very well that you are my most loyal servant, right?"

"Yes Master!"

Bellatrix whispered in response, she crawled down tremblingly and put her forehead on the Dark Lord's shoe.

"I will share with you the glory of my victory over death."

"Thank you for your gift..."

Bellatrix's voice trembled with excitement, and her eyes were filled with fanaticism. "The Dark Mark will shine in the night sky again!"

……

It's the second Saturday in March, and there's a Quidditch match today.

It was perfect weather for a Quidditch match. There was little wind, white clouds, and occasional bright sunshine.

Instead of sitting in the back row of the auditorium as usual, he picked a good spot to bask in the sun. Hermione sat on his right. He naturally grabbed the girl's hand, put it on his lap and played with it, pinching his knuckles and kneading the tender flesh on his palms. The boring Quidditch game also became interesting.

Hermione tried to pull her hand away, but failed.

"open."

"I do not."

"Take out your stones and play with them."

"Stones are not as fun as your hands."

Loren has been accustomed to holding the stone in his hand recently. I clearly saw him put the stone in the palm of his right hand, clenched his fist and turned his hand over. The next moment, when he opened his palm, the stone disappeared. It might be in the palm of his left hand, in his pocket, or in Hermione's hat. It seemed like a Muggle magic, or some magic that he had never seen before.

Hermione pulled her hand back even harder, and was immediately pinched by his fingers. If she continued to use force, both of them would feel pain, but she still tried it unconvinced.

"Hiss..." Loren immediately looked at her reproachfully, "What are you doing? Just watch the game."

Hermione pursed her lips and gave up resisting.

After all, he was the one who chose her boyfriend, so she just let him do what he wants.

Following Madam Hooch's call, players from both teams began to enter the field.

Gryffindor versus Hufflepuff, no matter from the player composition or historical record analysis, it is a crushing game, without any suspense. The student handicap is too lazy to set the odds for winning or losing.

As the players from both sides were shaking hands, a mysterious voice rang out over the field: "Welcome everyone to today's Quidditch match. I am today's commentator, Luna Lovegood..."

The unique ethereal voice of the Mad Witch of Ravenclaw is like the ripples on the surface of an autumn lake, ethereal yet peaceful.

Loren couldn't help but look up.

There was a familiar figure sitting in the hearing booth, with long blond hair and a necklace made of butterbeer bottle corks hanging around his neck. From time to time, he could hear a happy hum from the magic microphone. Professor McGonagall looked a little uncomfortable, as if she did regret the appointment.

The audience vaguely remembered that the previous commentator Smith was fired due to public reports for making random comments and belittling other players. There was also a notice for recruiting commentators on the bulletin board. No one knew when Luna applied and became the new commentator.

Loren grinned and looked into the field.

"Luna is really something. She didn't even come to me, the former former commentator, to ask for advice."

"Yeah, I was banned after only commentating one game."

"I don't like to hear this, I advise you to take it back."

"I do not."

Loren frowned at her, bent her hand into a middle finger position, and then was hit.

This girl was a little unreasonable. It was clearly her own hand that gave her the middle finger. Why did she hit him? If she had the guts, she could hit herself. Fortunately, he was broad-minded and didn't bother with her for the time being.

A few minutes later, Madam Hooch's whistle sounded, and players from both teams grasped their broom handles and jumped up.

"Hufflepuff's Smith got the Quaffle. He was the commentator last time. Oh, and Ginny Weasley bumped into him. I think it was intentional because it looked like she was the same. Smith said something rude to Gryffindor last time. I think he regrets it now...

"Oh, look, he dropped the Quaffle and Ginny grabbed it. I like her, she's very nice...

"And now this big Hufflepuff guy has taken the Quaffle away from her. I can't remember his name, it was Bibble, no, Buckins, or something like that—"

"It's Cadwallader!" Professor McGonagall couldn't help it and leaned close to the microphone and said loudly.

The audience laughed happily.