"Professor Abigail resigned?"
Hearing this news, the three students were visibly shocked.
Harry asked in disbelief, "Why would the professor suddenly resign? There wasn't any hint of it before the holidays!"
But Michael rubbed his chin and said, "Wait… now that I think about it, at the farewell feast on the last day, Professor Abigail did seem like she was saying goodbye."
"I heard something happened at home, so she went back to her country," Ryan Troka quickly explained, not wanting to be disliked by future students before he had even started teaching.
"I see," Wade patted Harry on the shoulder and comforted him, saying, "Better get used to it! We just can't seem to keep a long-term Defense Against the Dark Arts professor."
Ryan Troka glanced at Wade and thought: Could this student also have heard about the rumored curse on the Defense Against the Dark Arts position?
But since he had never done anything bad and only intended to teach for half a year, he didn't take the curse seriously.
Ryan Troka said, "I heard that Professor Abigail was a very good teacher. I came to the bookstore to buy the set of textbooks she had selected for you, so I can continue from where she left off next term — would you help me find the books? And maybe tell me about your current progress?"
"Of course, of course, leave it to us!" Harry said quickly.
This professor had just helped him avoid getting into trouble, so naturally, Harry was eager to return the favor.
Wade and Michael exchanged glances and also headed to the bookshelves.
The textbooks differed between grades, but Wade had seen all of them before and quickly gathered the complete set.
Michael went out onto the street and randomly found a few students from other grades to help the new professor understand the overall level.
"Hmm, next term we're supposed to study vampires and werewolves, right? And Boggarts too..."
A flicker of discomfort crossed Ryan Troka's face as he said:
"Those are dangerous creatures. We need to learn their weaknesses and how to defend against them… and of course, their cultural and historical backgrounds too. For example… Do you know who the first vampire was? There's a rather uninteresting story behind that..."
Ryan Troka spoke with ease and confidence, and before they knew it, the surrounding students had all gone quiet, listening intently.
He had the aura of a true scholar — deeply knowledgeable, refined in manner, modest and gentle in his speech — and he quickly won everyone's admiration.
"Professor Abigail was great, but this new professor isn't bad either, right? At least he probably won't punch anyone."
Michael whispered privately, clearly pleased with the new professor.
Harry pressed his lips together.
Though he was truly grateful for Professor Troka's help and knew the man looked and acted far more like a 'real professor,' he just didn't want to say it out loud — doing so made him feel like a traitor.
Wade tilted his head slightly and watched the witch who had just walked out of the bookstore after buying two books.
Although she appeared to be just an ordinary middle-aged woman…
[Sierra Abigail].
She had the exact same name as the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor who had just resigned.
And those two people beside her...
…
Abigail stepped out of the store with the books in hand, only to be greeted by Baird's half-smiling, half-mocking expression.
"Get that look off your face!" Abigail said coldly.
"If you're hurt, don't take it out on me," Baird replied sarcastically.
"You even changed the form of your Patronus because of those students, but so what? Now that the new professor is here, they adore him just the same — they forgot about you in no time."
Abigail looked at him with the same sarcastic expression and asked, "Have you ever cared about anyone, Baird?"
Baird's face darkened.
"If you ever had…"
Abigail continued, "You'd understand that even if you part ways, you'd still hope they're doing well — that's how a normal person thinks."
Watching Abigail leave with a sense of triumph, Baird was so furious his face turned green. He grabbed Illary, who was peeking through the window, and dragged the shameless guy away.
"Wait! Wait! Just one more look! Can I just say one thing to him? Just one sentence!"
Illary struggled, and in the tug-of-war, he accidentally bumped into the arm of a wizard nearby who was holding a child.
Their eyes met for a second — the other wizard shot him a fierce glare, and Illary shuddered and instantly fell silent.
Baird sensed something was off. He glanced warily at the robed wizard and whispered, "What is it?"
"Something's… weird…"
Illary whispered, pale-faced, "That thing he's holding… I don't think it's a human baby."
Baird frowned, "The thing in the swaddling cloth isn't a child?"
"You didn't see its face…" Illary muttered after thinking for a moment. "I feel like I've heard of something like this before… That thing… might be a Kuman Thong!"
"Kuman Thong…" Baird tried to recall.
That was supposedly a type of Southeast Asian witchcraft — also known as "raising a ghost child." He'd heard of it, but didn't know much about it.
As he watched the black-robed wizard walk off toward Knockturn Alley, Baird scoffed, "This release event really attracted all kinds of creepy things! Let's go. It's got nothing to do with us."
"He's not after Wade Grey too, is he?" Illary asked nervously. "What if he takes little Wade away? We don't know anything about Southeast Asian sorcery."
Baird wasn't impressed. "We didn't even get a shot — you think some guy fresh off the boat is going to pull it off? Do you know how many Aurors are stationed on this street today?"
"I don't know… how many?" Illary asked innocently.
Baird was momentarily speechless. "Just stop asking and move! If we stay any longer, someone's going to start watching us!"
…
After entering Knockturn Alley, the black-robed wizard paused by a wall for a moment. Using a reflective surface, he saw that the wizards he had passed didn't seem suspicious of him, and only then did he let out a quiet sigh of relief.
An old witch, with a face smeared with soot and indistinguishable features, approached with a malicious look in her eyes. She grinned, revealing a mouth full of broken, rotting black teeth.
The old witch, who looked like a vagrant, rasped, "Looking to buy something? Top-quality goods."
She pulled open her cloak, revealing a dozen shriveled human heads hanging inside.
Some were muttering curses, others stared at the black-robed wizard with sticky, evil glares, and a few strained to open their mouths wide, trying to bite the heads next to them.
Without a word, the black-robed wizard drew his wand and gave it a forceful flick. A deep crack split open the filthy ground, slicing just past the old witch's toes.
Startled, she jumped back and fell to the ground. Cheers erupted from within her cloak as several mouths sank their teeth into her without hesitation.
Wailing in pain, the old witch rolled on the ground, frantically tearing the heads off herself. She grabbed a bone club and beat them one by one, prompting shrill screams from the shrunken heads.
The black-robed wizard gave her a cold glance, carefully shifted the bundle in his arms closer to his chest, tucked it securely under his cloak, and briskly walked past her into Borgin and Burkes.
The screaming from the heads stopped instantly. Several pairs of eyes locked firmly in his direction.
"Darkness… darkness…"
They whispered among themselves:
"Such evil darkness…"
…
Ding-a-ling...
The bell on the counter rang as Mr. Borgin, hunched and wiry, hurried out from the back room.
"Welcome, sir—how may I help you today?"
He spoke in a slick, oily tone and quickly scanned the black-robed wizard from head to toe. His eyes lingered a moment on the bulge at the wizard's chest.
—A child? Or a corpse?
Having run a shop like this in Knockturn Alley for centuries, Mr. Borgin had seen all manner of dark wizards and dangerous magical artifacts.
He wasn't particularly interested in who the black-robed wizard was or what secrets he carried — he only cared about how much gold the man might bring.
The black-robed wizard placed a heavy money pouch on the counter with a thud. The top of the pouch opened, revealing a heap of gleaming golden Galleons.
Mr. Borgin's eyes lit up, and his smile became even warmer and more genuine. "What can I get for you, my esteemed sir?"
"I need a lot of things," the black-robed wizard said in a low voice. He pulled a scroll of parchment from his pocket and laid it on the counter. "Can you get everything on this list?"
Mr. Borgin put on a pair of pince-nez glasses and examined the list carefully.
"Hemlock, mandrake, wolfsbane, phoenix tail feather, unicorn horn, troll heart..."
He smiled. "Aside from the sphinx feather and the wendigo claw—which will take a few days—everything else I can get you right now."
"Good," said the black-robed wizard, pouring a heap of Galleons onto the counter. "I don't have much time, so please prepare it quickly."
"Yes, of course! Right away!"
Mr. Borgin scurried into the back room, and the shop fell into silence.
A few minutes later, the black-robed wizard walked out of Borgin and Burkes carrying a box.
The old witch at the door was gone. In the distance, a few shady figures lurked—an ever-present "scenery" of Knockturn Alley. The black-robed wizard ignored them.
At that moment, a faint, sharp voice came from his chest—
"Snake venom… go buy it from Bagwell's shop."
"Yes, Master," the black-robed wizard murmured softly, lowering his head.
He glanced around and spotted Bagwell's sign not far away, then walked toward it.
As he moved, the collar of his cloak shifted slightly, revealing a strange infant inside.
The baby was bright red, as if it had no skin or hair. Its body appeared to be covered in fine scales. Atop its head was a bizarre, snake-like face, and its glowing red eyes shimmered with light.
From within the folds of the cloak, it peered out at the cold, wide world with a gaze full of wickedness and rage, as though an incredibly terrifying soul was trapped within that small body.
A cold wind blew, lifting snow from the rooftop eaves. The black-robed wizard quickly tightened his cloak to keep the infant warm—and to hide that eerie face from view.
…
Ding—
The elevator gave a crisp chime as its iron gate clattered open.
"Department of Mysteries."
A cold female voice announced.
"This way. Please follow me."
A blank-faced wizard led the way, followed closely by several imposing witches and wizards. At the head of the group was the lion-like Head Auror, Scrimgeour, with Kingsley Shacklebolt right behind him.
The group walked briskly down an empty corridor and finally stopped in front of a plain black door.
"Bode, is this the Department of Mysteries?" a curious Auror at the back asked.
"Yes, this is the place," replied the blank-faced wizard.
He pushed open the door, and the group followed him inside.
They found themselves in a massive circular chamber with black walls and a black floor. Twelve identical black doors lined the walls, and blue-flamed candles burned between them.
As soon as they stepped in, the candles lit up automatically, yet the room remained eerily dim, as though the walls and floor swallowed all the light.
Bode glanced around to get his bearings, then walked directly to one of the black doors and pushed it open. Bright light spilled from within.
Scrimgeour and the others moved toward it. The younger Aurors in the back craned their necks, trying to catch an early glimpse of what lay inside.
It was a square room. A table stood within, and in the center was a massive glass tank filled with a dark green liquid. Several pale white shapes floated inside it, slowly drifting like a group of jellyfish.
"This is the Brain Room?" Scrimgeour asked.
"Yes," Bode replied.
"Those are… are those human brains?"
A young Auror asked in horror—then quickly clamped his mouth shut under Scrimgeour's stern glare.
"You said someone broke in here…" Kingsley asked. "Was something stolen? Or did the intruder do something?"
Bode slowly raised his head to look at Kingsley. After a long pause, he finally said, "We don't know."
Kingsley blinked. "What do you mean?"
Bode said, "There's no fixed number of brains here. Sometimes they suddenly increase, sometimes drop to just one or two. So we don't know how many there are supposed to be—or if any were stolen."
"As for what the intruder did… we have no way of knowing. The Brain Room is one of the most mysterious parts of the Department—because thought is intangible, elusive, and formless."
"Alright, get to work," Scrimgeour cut them off. "Find any trace of the intruder… but don't go near the tank."
"Yes, sir!"
Several Aurors responded and began their investigation.
Each was skilled in their own specialized field. They quickly detected subtle magical traces and a few lingering footprints, noting everything carefully.
Kingsley used his wand to guide a faint strand of green mist into a crystal vial for preservation.
"Experienced operator," he heard one of his colleagues mutter. "Most of the useful evidence has been destroyed. There's only…"
They all turned toward the tank.
Only near the tank did significant traces remain—apparently, the intruder had avoided causing serious damage to the brains inside.
The tracks extended into the tank itself, but Scrimgeour had forbidden them from approaching it. Bode, the Unspeakable, stood watchfully by its side the whole time, eyeing them as if they were the thieves.
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⭐Harry Potter: Becoming a Study God (HP:BSG)- +235 Chapters
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