"What event?" Vid asked, not particularly interested.
"Dark Magic... Unforgivable Curses." Antoine laughed and said, "In Dumbledore's territory, it's simply unbelievable—want to take a look?"
"Unforgivable Curses?"
Vid was silent for a mont, then found his cloak, put it on, and pulled up the hood, obscuring his face.
Antoine drank a bottle of Polyjuice Potion and transford himself into a student's appearance.
He wore the uniform of Salem Academy underneath and draped a cloak of similar color to Vid's over it.
The grass had finally shown so green recently, but the temperature was still low. Students in thick cloaks were everywhere, making their attire unremarkable.
Led by Antoine, the two headed steadily towards the lower levels of the castle.
Vid watched Antoine expertly navigate the moving stairs, quickly reaching the basent level, and couldn't help but quip, "Aren't you a professor at Salem? How co you're more familiar with this castle than most students at Hogwarts?"
"On an opponent's turf, it's basic strategy to familiarize yourself with the terrain, my dear Belby," Antoine said in a light tone.
"Belby?"
"From now on, you are Belby."
"How did you discover this Dark Magic interest group?" Vid asked curiously.
Antoine thought for a mont before replying, "If I have to say, it's probably like attracts like?"
"Although you have also learned so Dark Magic, you only consider it as a tool for researching Magic. But those truly imrsed in it, I can recognize them at a glance—"
"Because in the Witch Pure Party, there are simply too many of such individuals."
"So accordingly, they also trust this disguised identity of mine—as appearances and age can be faked, but Magic cannot! The feeling of using Magic cannot be faked either."
At these words, Vid gave Antoine a deep look.
To gain the trust of that group as a student from another school, it certainly wasn't just about demonstrating mastery over Dark Magic, right?
—So what exactly did Antoine do to be accepted as one of their own?
This thought had barely crossed Vid's mind when he suddenly rembered those who had been killed, burned to ashes, or tortured to near death by the Witch Pure Party.
Such scenes, he had witnessed more than once in Grindelwald's Gray Castle.
Regardless of whether those people deserved it or not, the mbers of the Witch Pure Party had no psychological barriers to using Dark Magic.
Perhaps it was the peaceful and serene school environnt that made Vid montarily forget who was in front of him, thus harboring so unnecessary concerns.
Vid shook his head in secret, putting aside his inner conflicts, and watched as Antoine knocked on a painting on the wall, tracing a strange symbol on a snake depicted in the painting.
The snake's eyes glowed faintly, and then the painting opened, releasing a damp, musty sll.
...
The ghost emitted a faint glow in the dark pipe, barely illuminating the surroundings.
Draco squeezed himself into the narrow pipe, his robe covered in cobwebs and suspicious sli, with so insect corpses in his hair.
Every ti he crawled forward, he could hear his own rapid breathing echoing in the pipe.
"Are you sure it's this way?"
Draco gritted his teeth and squashed a small spider crawling in front of his eyes.
"Of course!"
Moaning Myrtle floated effortlessly in front of him, her body mostly overlapping with the pipe.
She turned her head and raised a finger: "Shh—"
Habitually loud, the ghost whispered, "It's just up ahead. From now on, don't speak, or you'll be discovered."
Draco asked in a low voice, "I'll keep quiet, but are you afraid of being discovered too?"
"I'm not afraid," Moaning Myrtle laughed and said, "but what if they change locations if they catch eavesdropping next ti?"
Draco was about to say sothing, but Moaning Myrtle imdiately raised a finger again. He closed his mouth and crawled forward carefully and silently.
A rustling sound ca from below, and Draco froze. Moaning Myrtle reached out and pointed to a rusty wire sh ahead.
Draco carefully approached, peering through the sh to finally see the scene inside the room.
A dozen people in black cloaks stood in the room, most with their hoods up, making it hard to discern gender and age.
Draco recognized only two people—Crabbe and Goyle. Their large builds made them stand out, and they were so familiar that Draco could recognize them even without seeing their faces.
Goyle seed interested in discreetly stuffing chocolate from his pocket into his mouth, while Crabbe followed another person in a black robe, continuously engaging them in conversation.
Every ti Draco saw scenes like this, he felt like his forr followers might change—when did that silly guy beco so ambitious?
He glanced at Moaning Myrtle, who gestured for him to wait there, then made a signal Draco couldn't understand before floating away on her own.
Draco: …
Wait, co back!
How am I supposed to get back?
He roared in his mind, but unable to make a sound, he quickly recalled the path he had crawled through.
How many turns had he taken just now?
Surely he wouldn't beco the first student to starve to death trapped in a pipe at Hogwarts?
Draco carefully turned his head, looking at the path he had co, relieved to see marks from crawling along the bottom of the pipe.
Just as he managed to find a more comfortable position, three more people arrived in the room below, and the door was locked shut.
At this point, a black cloak spread their arms wide, speaking warmly: "Co closer, Noat... and you, Belby... we are brothers bound by trust; don't seem too distant."
The crowd shuffled closer to him, forming a large circle before the black cloak spoke again:
"Though I've said it many tis, I must repeat—"
"Grindelwald is already old, the Mysterious Man is dead, Dumbledore is deranged, and the Ministry of Magic is weak and ineffective."
"Brothers, sisters! The future Magic World will belong to us! The world will belong to us!"
"To achieve our goals, we need to harness any power we can, master the magic our enemies wield, abandon blind loyalty and foolishness, forsake weakness and morality, and fight to build a true dawn!"
"We must confront our greed, acknowledge the soul-burning desire. We want all the world's wealth to flow to us, to have the Minister of Ministry of Magic kneel and kiss our rings, to have the most beautiful people crawl at our feet, to forge the world into the shape we want!"
"We are no one's remnants or vassals; we are the future!"
Another person in a black robe raised a glass at the perfect mont: "To—the future we can shape at will!"
The others echoed, "To the future!"
They drank their glasses, their breathing noticeably heavier, as if excited for the vision of the world they imagined.
A ring on everyone's finger glead in the candlelight, the skull on it seemingly smiling.
Draco's heart skipped a beat; he reached out to touch his empty finger.
There had once been a similar ring there.
But later…
Draco recalled those days of detention in Professor Snape's office, as if the bitter taste surfaced in his mouth again.
A whole year of detention, either helping Professor Snape handle various disgusting Magic Potion Materials or running errands for other professors, cleaning for Filch, returning to his dormitory exhausted each ti, still needing to find ti to complete assignnts…
During that period, Draco had absolutely no extra energy to participate in extracurricular activities, and the only relaxation ca from Quidditch training—
Which wasn't very relaxing either, as Slytherin's training was almost as intense as Gryffindor's.
And ever since Harry Potter enrolled, Slytherin had lost its consecutive Quidditch championship streak, and they were under far more ntal pressure than their predecessors.
In short, during those days, Draco Malfoy was forced to gradually lose contact with the newly joined Necromancy Association, and eventually didn't even know where the ring went...
Watching the mysterious atmosphere-laden crowd below, Draco's eyes flickered. His other hand slowly touched the finger where the ring had once been worn.
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