A magical journey that begins in Azkaban

Roger jumped up and flapped his wings, almost losing his balance and falling into the ground. Still unwilling to give up, he flapped tentatively and lifted his body slightly off the ground. This time it lasted for 3 seconds before falling heavily.

"Hahaha, even if you get it, you're not worthy of using it..." Before Old Bowman could finish his mocking words, he saw Rogge kicking on the ground and jumping up instantly.

The strength and rhythm of the flapping of the wings gradually became coordinated, and the center of gravity of the whole person gradually stabilized, allowing him to maintain balance in the air.

"No...it can't be? So fast?" Old Bowman looked at the floating Rogge in disbelief.

At first, Roger could only make simple movements up, down, left and right. But as he gets the hang of movement, he can dive, lift, and hover.

The sun slowly rose, and a breeze blew from Quidditch Swamp. Rogge flew up into the wind, spreading his wings gracefully. The whole person flew higher and higher, and flew farther and farther.

He swooped down from a high altitude and rushed towards old Bowman. Old Bowman was so frightened that he thought Rogge was going to pass through his body. Unexpectedly, he suddenly disappeared in front of his eyes and then teleported behind him.

"The furthest distance the Phantom can travel is 50 feet, and it costs 10 magic points to cast once." Rogge used it frequently in the sky and quickly figured out how to use it. Apart from feeling dizzy and consuming a lot of magic power, there is no big problem.

Old Bowman looked lifeless and floated back to the ruins of the workshop in despair.

Over the Quidditch Swamp, Rogge flapped his wings and flew around like a happy bird. Old Bowman's words are true. These wings are light and flexible. He can fly freely and go wherever he wants.

It wasn't until noon that Rogge got tired from playing. The magical mudslide has dissipated, and only a few load-bearing walls of the Alchemy Workshop remain. The oil painting was okay, just being weighed down by a few gravels.

"Old Bowman, Old Bowman?" Rogge shouted several times toward the ruins, and then Old Bowman popped his head out of the wall.

"What are you doing here?" Old Bowman was sulking and shouted: "Take away the Wings of Daedalus! The curtain of time is in the oil painting, take it away if you want!"

After he finished speaking, he was about to get into the wall. Rogge quickly called out to him: "Wait a minute, Old Bowman. I want to ask you what the ancient magic you master looks like."

"What does it look like?" Old Bowman was stunned for a moment, not understanding what Rogge meant.

"Yes, can you see the elemental light spots around you?"

"Elemental light point?" Old Bowman shook his head, "No, I can see the magic factor in the blood. Otherwise, it would be impossible for me to analyze the Golden Snitch and the Silver-maned Pegasus and make the Golden Snitch and the Wings of Daedalus. .”

"Hey, so the things we perceive are different." Rogge opened his eyes wide. He didn't expect that ancient magic was divided into elemental magic and blood magic.

Thinking of blood magic, Rogge thought of Nagini's blood spell. If we could find a wizard who awakened blood magic, wouldn't it be possible to solve the problem of blood orcs?

Rogge stared at old Bowman. The old ghost suddenly felt chilled all over, turned his head and crawled into the wall.

"Wait a minute, old Bowman." Rogge shouted quickly, "Since your alchemy workshop has been destroyed, how about I find you a new home."

"Huh! Destroyed? You didn't do it!" Bowman glared at Rogge, "If you restore this place to its original state, I will forgive you for taking away the wings of Daedalus!"

"Well..." Rogge shook his head, "You are alone... Ghost is so lonely here. Are you interested in going to Hogwarts?"

"The Bloody Barrow of our college spends all day moaning and groaning in the observatory. He looks like a ghost from Ravenclaw in a daze every day."

"Hogwarts?" Bowman looked at Rogge, feeling a little moved.

"Yes, I think the principal will welcome you. Professor Binns in our school is also a ghost, but his classes are boring and dull. I heard that senior students can take alchemy as an elective. Is your level enough to be a professor?"

"Of course! You don't even know who I am!" Old Bowman floated out of the wall and straightened his clothes.

"I am the savior of the Golden Snitch and the inventor of the Golden Snitch. The embodiment of mythical equipment, the producer of the Wings of Daedalus, and the famous alchemy master Bowman Wright."

"If I could have appeared in the daytime, it would not be Bauman inside but me who would gain fame and wealth. Do you understand?" Old Bauman pointed at the main character in the oil painting, who was about to rush out with bared teeth and claws.

"However, I refuse!" Bowman could not forgive his last masterpiece being taken away by Rogge, and he did not want to see him every day at Hogwarts in the future.

"Oh, what a pity." Rogge rolled his eyes and thought of something that all alchemists could not refuse.

"What's a pity?"

"A powerful alchemist appeared in France in the fourteenth century. His level is much higher than yours."

"Hey, little wizard, I don't believe it!" Bowman shook his head, it was possible that a powerful alchemist would appear. But more than yourself? Impossible, absolutely impossible.

"You still don't believe it. His name is Nick Mellor, he made the Philosopher's Stone, and he's still alive today..."

"What!" Bowman screamed, grabbing Rogge's collar with both hands, but they went straight into his body.

"Hiss..." Rogge felt the ice water pouring into his body, shuddered and quickly took two steps back.

"You lied to me! That is the Philosopher's Stone, the ultimate goal of alchemy! No one can successfully refine it!"

"What's the use of lying to you? I saw it once not long ago, a red irregular-shaped stone. If you don't believe it, you can go to Hogwarts and ask our principal. It's not too late now."

"It's too late? What do you mean?"

"Because there is a dark wizard coveting it, our principal may destroy it..."

"Destroy!!!" Bowman roared, "Your principal is an idiot! That's the magic stone! The dry powder of the four elements! The fifth element! How can it be destroyed?"

"Eh...that's not right!" Bowman shouted and stopped suddenly.

"What's wrong? What's wrong?"

"The Philosopher's Stone is the fifth element and is the perfect purification of all elements. As the ultimate element, once it is refined, it can never be destroyed." Bowman calmed down and thought carefully.

"But Nick Mellor has lived on it to this day."

"Hmph, either you kid lied to me, or the magic stone is fake. Let's go!"

"where to?"

"Of course it's Hogwarts! I want to see the Philosopher's Stone you mentioned with my own eyes. I don't believe that any alchemist can surpass me!" Old Bowman was furious and couldn't wait to go to Hogwarts to find the truth.

Rogge quickly wanted to put the oil painting into the traceless expansion pack, but there was no response.

"The light and shadow curtain cannot be taken in. You can hire a carriage." Old Bowman reminded.

"No, let me see if I can carry it!" Rogge exhaled hot breath into his hand. The dragon's blood in the blue moonlight was not for nothing.

He weighed it and reached out his hand, carefully holding the edge of the frame. Feeling the power surge in his blood, Rogge took a deep breath and lifted the frame with force.

The oil painting was very heavy, but Roger could barely resist it. Old Bowman looked at him, feeling like Sisyphus pushing a boulder. Rogge tensed his arms and adjusted his center of gravity, finally holding the entire painting on his shoulders.

"You see, my strength is pretty good," Rogge said excitedly to Old Bowman.

"Hmph, we want to fly north along the coastline, can you do that?"

"Man, you can't say you can't do it!" Rogge boasted before he realized the distance from Quidditch Marsh to the Scottish Highlands.

"Man? Your ears are still wet, right? They smell like milk." Old Bowman mocked.

Rogge was stunned for a moment, the old ghost looked down on people! He said he didn't even have all his hair!

"Who are you looking down on? There's a competition to see who gets to Hogwarts first."

"Hey, okay. But you can't use my wings."

"What are your wings? They belong to me now, and their surname is Travis. But since you are a ghost and an old man, I will give them to you." Rogge said, getting on the broomstick and not talking about martial arts. The German ones set off first.

"Damn little wizard! Can you compete like this?" Old Bowman shouted angrily and quickly chased after him.