A magical journey that begins in Azkaban

The God of Death stared at Rogge, and found a hint of amusement in the eyes of the mortal in front of him. A bad premonition suddenly arose in Zhi's heart, and his cold body felt faintly uneasy.

"Impossible! Absolutely impossible!" Some yelled angrily and sternly: "Only intelligent creatures have souls! The deadline for collecting the debt has come, and you don't have enough time to give me enough souls to make up for this. gap!"

The corners of Rogge's mouth curled up in a relaxed arc, and his eyes shone with a light that was indeed the case.

Just now the God of Death made it clear: Death needs death to repay, and the soul needs soul salvation. Rogge secretly guessed that every fugitive who escaped death was a bad debt that needed to be recovered by the God of Death.

The principal is life, and interest is the soul.

He quickly thought of Nicoléme's Philosopher's Stone, a mysterious alchemy item born during the time of the Black Death, which was most likely a small vault full of souls.

"I assure you, I have dedicated countless souls." Rogge said confidently, pointing his eyes firmly at the unbalanced scale in front of him: "And I agree with your judgment, it is destined to be unbalanced! However, the weightlessness lies in This way.”

He pointed to the towering, empty tray, a look of triumph on his face.

Just hearing the words, I couldn't help but tremble. It twitched the thread symbolizing destiny in its hand in panic, and immediately felt an indescribable heaviness.

The God of Death had to increase his strength, and soon saw the countless lines of fate broken by Rogge. Those lost lives are intertwined together, like kites with broken strings, which have already plunged into their own Styx.

Only recently has it been immersed in an almost morbid pleasure, happily waving the sharp sickle to harvest the "leeks" that matured in advance.

However, it had no idea that Rogge had quietly affected the fate of countless people and created this joyful feast for it. The gift of fate has already been marked with a secret price.

"This... this is impossible!" He only let out a scream, as if his body was pierced by an invisible sharp blade. It panicked and let go of Rogge's fate line, interrupting the judgment represented by the scale.

Of course the God of Death can do this, because compared to Rogge on the other side of the scale, it is undoubtedly the superior person. The trial it initiates can be interrupted at any time and at any cost without any cost.

However, fate gives it a powerful response at this moment!

The darkness behind Rogge quickly rose up, like an invisible ancient beast, shrouding the God of Death. The deep darkness seemed to roar silently: it would never allow its chosen people to become the playthings of death.

The scale fell with a crash, and the pallets struck together with a crisp metallic sound. Ariana's soul quietly returned to her body along the thread of fate.

The god of death was so frightened that he turned into a gray-white smoke and tried to escape from the burqa, but was tightly wrapped in the dark ink vortex and could not move.

Suddenly, an inexplicable voice exploded in Rogge's mind: God, you must not be looked at directly!

Rogge closed his eyes involuntarily, and the scream of the scythe sounded in his ears. Immediately afterwards, the air began to flow violently, like an invisible giant hand stirring the entire space. A biting chill penetrated Rogge's nose and skin, making him shiver.

Slowly, he felt the blood pulsing in his body again; his heart beat in his chest; and not far away there was the sound of snowballs hitting the ground.

Rogge glanced at the panel and found that the forced trial and the dark asylum disappeared almost at the same time.

Death is gone.

He slowly opened his eyes and exhaled a long breath. On the snow in front of him were the items belonging to the God of Death. Like a beach after the tide recedes, leaving only a faint trace of water.

"Don't sign any contracts with high-ranking people!" Rogge warned himself secretly.

A wand made of osmanthus wood lay quietly at your feet, exuding a mysterious aura. Although Rogge suspected that there was a backdoor left by the God of Death, he still picked it up. He played with it for a while and then put it into the wooden box.

"The black robe that covers the god of death may allow me to hide from prying eyes..." He murmured to himself, and just as he was about to reach out to grab it, darkness quickly surged towards it.

This familiar dark force is like a skilled tailor, instantly splitting the black robe into countless tiny threads. Immediately afterwards, the threads flew wildly in the air. Against the backdrop of the white snow, they were rewoven into a light cloak, which fell gently into Rogge's hands.

"Should I thank you, or should I... thank you?" Rogge curled his lips, knowing in his heart that the darkness was paying attention to him.

This cloak, which feels like water, is a gift given to him by the darkness. After all, he had just demonstrated his worth in the face of darkness, allowing the superior God of Death to interrupt his trial. This feat undoubtedly greatly pleased the mysterious being who favored him.

Rogge folded it carefully, thinking secretly about the intricate relationship between gods.

His presence affected fate, but fate never informed Death of this. Therefore, in the eyes of the God of Death, the "leeks" that were harvested before are all normal.

His eyes fell on the scales that could weigh souls. If the trial just now continues, those broken lines of fate will completely destroy it. After all, there are some things that cannot be controlled even if they are not weighed at least twice as much as they are weighed at a thousand pounds.

The God of Death was afraid of the outcome of the balance tipping towards Rogge, and was even more worried about the possible conspiracy of darkness, so he ran away in panic. As for this scale, it is just a toy made casually.

But Rogge was keenly aware that in the hands of a wizard, it might play an unexpected role.

"Knowledge is power. This scale may be the key to the soul." He thought to himself and stuffed it into his pocket without hesitation.

At this moment, Rogge's peripheral vision caught a strange object on the snow not far away. He walked closer and found that it was a fragment only the size of a thumb. The surface and cracks of the fragment were covered with blood-colored spider web patterns, reflecting the dazzling cold light.

"Could it be... the sickle of the god of death is broken?" This thought flashed through Rogge's mind like a flash of lightning, making him shudder involuntarily.

The moment he closed his eyes just now, what earth-shaking changes happened that could damage the weapon that harvested souls in the hands of the god of death.

Rogge's eyes flashed with a strong desire for knowledge. He began to carefully recall every word that the god of death had said before, trying to find clues from it.

For a true wizard, the unknown is not the source of fear, but a signpost to the treasure house of knowledge. He stared at the rolling mountains in the distance, his heart full of desire.

Unfortunately, death and darkness are too far away from him. After this thrilling encounter, the god of death may not meet him easily again.

At present, the only clues to solve these mysteries are possible sickle fragments, scales, wands and dark cloaks.

Rogge carefully waved the Kirin wand and used the floating spell to pull the fragments on the ground. When the fragments touched the magic, a weak but not negligible pulse came from the bottom of his heart, as if it was a call from another dimension.

After hesitating for a moment, a bold idea flashed in his mind. Rogge immediately took out Slytherin's pendant box and prepared to put it in it.

Salazar's pendant box has always been regarded by Rogge as the most useless of the relics of the four founders. Even Helena, who lives in the crown, has repeatedly mocked its uselessness with disdain.

After all, Ravenclaw's crown can improve thinking, Hufflepuff's gold cup can preserve a lot of food, and Gryffindor's sword can at least chop wood. And this pendant box seemed to be useless except for storing photos.

As the box slowly closed, a miracle happened before his eyes: the strange fluctuations that made the soul sway and throb disappeared without a trace in an instant.

Rogge breathed a sigh of relief, and a complex emotion surged in his heart. He couldn't help but curse Grindelwald for being smart. Although the guy's original intention might not be bad, his behavior almost killed him.

A burst of cheerful laughter came from the courtyard, and Hermione and Ariana were walking towards him briskly.

Rogge stared at Ariana and muttered in his heart: "Miss Dumbledore, you really owe me one!"

"Why are you sweating so much?" Hermione looked at him with concern, pinched her sleeves and wiped his forehead.

"Ah..." Rogge was stunned for a moment, subconsciously reached out and touched it, and then realized that his chest and back were soaked with cold sweat.

"Where is the black-robed wizard? How could he get in?" She asked curiously, and Ariana also stared at him thoughtfully.

Roger took a deep breath and decided to hide the truth: "Maybe it was through the tunnel." He didn't want to say more, and didn't want to bring this danger to them. Some secrets are better left to him alone.

They talked about Ariana's early exam and walked into the hot Three Broomsticks Pub together.

The bustling crowd and the endless noise made Roger's tense nerves relax a little. After drinking a few glasses of butter beer, he burped with relief.

While Hermione was ordering food, Roger lowered his voice and asked Ariana: "Miss Dumbledore, how did you survive at that time?"

"After the Obscurus exploded, Mr. Green found me. Then, I survived, what happened?" Her clear blue eyes looked directly at Roger, without any evasion. This frankness made Roger even more confused.

"Then what? After you were resurrected, didn't you see Green and other..." Roger paused, carefully choosing his words: "Have you dealt with other things?"

"Are you referring to the black robe standing in the shadow before?" She leaned her head over and took the opportunity to ask back: "I feel that the black robe is very strange, as if..."

Ariana frowned slightly, and didn't know what words to use to describe that feeling for a while.

"It seems to be able to take away your soul."

"Yes, that's the feeling!" Ariana nodded quickly, "It's not a wizard, right? What you said in school just now..."

"I don't need to lie to you." Roger said frankly, "I did know it in France. It's just that I used the Forgetfulness Spell to make myself forget that experience."

"Ah?!" Ariana stared at him in surprise. It was the first time she heard someone cast the Forgetfulness Spell on herself.

At this time, Hermione came back with French fries and roast chicken, and the two tacitly did not continue the topic.

"I am the beneficiary of the contract..." He chewed the fries slowly, his mind still lingering on the conversation with the Grim Reaper just now, "The remaining names will be judged by death..."

The wooden door of the pub creaked, opened and closed by the customers coming and going. The light outside the house was like a jumping elf, passing over Roger's face from time to time. Suddenly, a flash of inspiration penetrated his mind like lightning.

"Wait," Roger murmured in a low voice, and Hermione and Ariana, who were about to enjoy the roast chicken, stopped in confusion.

"Why do I feel that the Grim Reaper came to me because of Ariana? The real reason it found me was the contract. What did that bastard Grindelwald do?"

Rogge grabbed the chicken leg on the table irritably and took a big bite, as if he wanted to vent all his doubts and anger on this innocent roast chicken.

Under the eyes of the two Gryffindor police ladies, Rogge completely devoured the whole roast chicken without noticing. They had reason to believe that the "wait" just now was used to deceive themselves.

Hermione and Ariana were busy doing homework all day and couldn't even squeeze out time for eating. After finally coming out to relax, they watched their beloved roast chicken turn into a pile of bare bones at a speed visible to the naked eye!

The two of them stared at Rogge with a common hatred. The anger in their hearts can be imagined. They just wanted to shout: "How can you repair it!"

Rogge finally noticed the solemn atmosphere around him, swallowed the last bite of meat awkwardly, and suggested with a smile: "Well... how about we order another one?"

"No!" Hermione snorted unbearably, crossing her arms in front of her chest, "The new roast chicken is no longer the same as the previous one! No two roast chickens in the world are exactly the same!"

"I'm full too." Ariana then echoed, looking at the chicken bones on the plate, with a sly smile on the corner of her mouth.

She patted her belly and teased softly: "Girls should maintain their figure. Rogge, thank you for helping us finish the roast chicken."

Rogge scratched his head helplessly. He used the urinal head of the god of death to guarantee that he definitely didn't mean it.

Listening to the bird calls in Hermione and Ariana's stomachs, he said enthusiastically: "Hey, I know a wonderful way to roast chicken! You must have never tasted it, and the taste is absolutely unforgettable. Just consider it as my apology to the two beautiful wizard ladies, how about it?"

"Really..." Ariana's eyes sparkled with anticipation, and Hermione stopped her with a look before she said it.

"Ahem." She secretly pulled Ariana's sleeve and signaled her with her eyes to keep reserved.

Ariana pouted and secretly complained in her heart: "You are the least reserved one."

Since they didn't refuse, it means acceptance.

Rogge got up and walked to the counter and bought some ingredients for barbecue from the charming Ms. Rosmota.

The chickens in the bag had been gutted, their heads and tails cut off, and all their feathers removed. They gathered together, as if silently shouting: "Hurry, don't put them in the pot yet, I can still be saved!"

He asked for another jar of golden honey, a small bottle of olive oil, and a few red apples... Finally, he waved to the two of them, indicating that they should go out together.

Hermione resisted the urge to get up, and tried to maintain a high and cold attitude of "I'm not interested in your roast chicken at all."

However, her reserve and high and cold attitude were soon pulled down by her curious companions.

"Let's go, my stomach is protesting. Even if I don't eat, I have to see what tricks Roger is going to play." Ariana exerted a little force, and Hermione's buttocks lifted up from the stool on her own initiative.

Although Hermione followed out, she still pouted and followed Roger with a proud face. In order to prevent her eyes from falling on Roger's broad shoulders, she forced herself to appreciate the scenery around her.

The Scottish Highlands in winter are magnificent. The vast and mysterious Forbidden Forest is covered with thick snow, like a glittering silver magic robe.

Not far away, the frozen Black Lake is bustling. Many students are spinning gracefully on the ice, and from time to time they hear the sound of wrestling.

"Huh, the ground is frozen as hard as a rock!" Rogge led them to the edge of the Forbidden Forest, and a blazing fire spurted out of his wand, quickly melting the snow and frozen soil under his feet.

Ariana tightened her checkered scarf and tilted her head to ask curiously: "Rogge, you can actually cook! In addition to my brother Aberforth, you are the second wizard I know who can cook."

"Probably."

"Ah!" Hermione opened her eyes wide in surprise and asked in a skeptical tone: "So, this is your first time cooking?! Otherwise, let's go back to the tavern."