Hogwarts: I can inherit the legacy of the dead

"Filthorp, aren't you going back?"

In the dormitory, the short-haired boy asked the boy with neat long braids sitting by the window.

The short-haired boy was carrying his luggage and standing next to a Christmas tree at the door of the dormitory. He was about to leave school and go home.

The long-braided boy had a pale face, as if he had been hiding in a cave.

He turned his head, looked at the short-haired boy with his narrow eyes, and shook his head:

"I don't plan to go back."

"It's a pity to waste the Christmas vacation in school."

The short-haired boy advised: "You don't have many friends in school. I'm leaving again. It's not good for you to be alone. At least you have someone to accompany you when you go home."

"No." The long-braided boy still shook his head: "I'm used to being alone."

"Okay then." The short-haired boy sighed: "Then I'm leaving. You take care of yourself. See you after the vacation."

After the short-haired boy left, the long-braided boy looked at the lake outside the window again, sparkling. But his eyes were empty, and he was holding a letter signed by Claysie in his hand, as if he was reminiscing about the past.

There was no one in the dormitory, and the sound of water outside the quiet window was clearly audible. The boy with long braids murmured softly:

"Claysie, my sister."

"The day my bloodline awakened, the magic power went out of control and destroyed your face like that, leaving you sitting in a wheelchair for the rest of your life. You don't even hate me..."

"You should hate me."

"You used to have such a bright smile, and you liked to run all over the mountains. You said the air in the mountains tasted as sweet as candy."

"But."

"But, I ruined your beautiful face, your feet, and everything about you."

He looked painful and ferocious:

"You should hate me."

"My dear sister, you should be in pain You should hate me..."

Another gust of wind blew outside the window, blowing the curtains and lifting the hair on the boy's forehead. His expression became depressed and melancholy:

"You are right, I miss home."

"I miss it very much, but I can't go back. I am afraid to face you, afraid to face my father and mother."

"Even if you say you forgive me, how can I forgive myself?"

"You said you wanted to come and see me, but the mailing address I gave you was wrong. I lied to you. I left there and came to Hogwarts alone..."

...

The picture was like ink smudged, becoming blurred. When everything became clear again, it was still the same dormitory, but the boy with long braids had grown up to be a teenager.

It was Christmas again.

Only a few letters signed by Claysie were placed on the table.

The letters had turned yellow. After being read again and again, they became a little wrinkled, but they were still preciously collected.

Since that time, he dared not go to pick up the letters again, for fear of seeing familiar people.

The north wind was howling outside the window, and it was all white.

The braided boy stroked the letters with his hands, as if he was talking to his relatives. He whispered:

"Clacy, are you okay? I haven't contacted you for many years. You should have grown up a lot, right? It's a pity that I didn't see it."

"Are you and your parents living well?"

"I miss you again."

He raised his head and looked at the window. It seemed that there was a young girl on the windowsill with a bright smile.

The braided boy looked at it, and his eyes seemed to be stained with red ink. His pupils gradually became sharper, like the eyes of a beast.

But he was unaware, lowering his head and writing something on the table, which seemed to be a diary.

The braided boy said softly:

"Clacy, you should inherit my blood."

"If I hadn't awakened my blood, I wouldn't have hurt you, and that wouldn't have happened."

"You've been smarter than me since you were a child. If this power is given to you, you'll be able to control it very well."

The braided boy stretched out his hands, and a blood-colored flower formed on his hands, as if it was a rose stained with blood, swaying in the wind.

His eyes became firm, and he said solemnly:

"Clacy, I learned a lot in school, consulted many teachers, and condensed into such a blood-colored flower."

"As long as I'm alive, I will perfect it, and one day I will let the power of this blood reappear in you."

"As long as I give it to you, the power of blood will heal the wound on your face, and also give you the talent of a wizard."

"In this way, I will have no regrets."

...

Another period of time has passed.

The boy has become a young man with a light beard, but his face is vicissitudes, and the whole person is unkempt.

He buried his head in an unknown library, like a hungry elk in the forest, absorbing the knowledge in the book.

Soon, the sunset fell and the sky became dark.

The lights in the library were turned off, and the floating candlelight extinguished the lights by itself, and everything fell into darkness.

The young man raised his head as if in another world:

"Is it dark?"

He saw the bright stars outside the window, but he didn't get up and looked at them quietly for a while.

When someone urged him, the young man finally stood up, patted the dust on his clothes, and murmured:

"Soon."

"Clacy, it's almost time, I will soon be able to solve the last problem and transfer the blood to you."

"Then, I can sleep well for a while, I haven't had a good sleep for too long."

No one knew that

the good sleep the young man said was actually a long sleep.

Bloodline transfer is too risky. Even if it succeeds by chance, someone is bound to die.

…

I don’t know how long it took, but the library turned into a house burning with fire.

Felthorpe, who was already middle-aged, was lying on the ground, his face pale.

There was blood all over his body and he was clutching a book in his hand. A dark wizard suddenly broke in and released a fatal spell, leaving him on the verge of death.

It is the most chaotic period in the wizarding world, and all calls for help cannot be responded to. Even the Ministry of Magic, the law enforcement agency of the wizarding world, is in a mess, and where can it send manpower?

The screams outside sounded like the wail of a cat being hunted.

Felthorpe raised his hand tremblingly, and when he saw the blood-colored rose pattern on the palm of his hand, tears suddenly flowed down silently.

"Cressie."

There was no color on his face, and he said vaguely:

"I'm afraid I won't be able to see you, my sister, my dear sister."

"Obviously..."

"It's obvious that we're about to succeed, but we're still missing the last step, obviously..."

He raised his head and looked at the surrounding firelight coming towards him. He seemed to see the familiar person and his parents whom he had not seen for a long time.

Philthorpe closed his eyes slightly, leaving tears of regret:

"I missed you."

"I really, really, really want to..."

"I should take a look at you first. I almost forgot what you look like..."

With uneasiness and regret on his face, he closed his eyes permanently.

…

Decades of time turned into ashes, flying under this gloomy sky, leaving only a vague figure buried in a pile of books, as if it had lost its soul, murmuring:

"I missed you."

"I really, really, really want to..."

"I should take a look at you first. I almost forgot what you look like..."

He said it over and over again, like a puppet.

The lake-like ground rippled, and Meka Anders sighed and walked slowly.

A golden light fell, and words like musical notes appeared in front of me, blocking the way.

"Books (Diaries) Soaked in Tears."

"From: Philthorpe Comber."

"Optional legacy:"

"The only one: the blood fetus that contains the secret of transfiguration."

"Note: This bloody rose carries everything Filthorpe Cumber has learned, and is nourished by his knowledge, magic power and body. When the rose completely takes shape, that is when Filthorpe Cumber's life is about to end. When it’s dry.”

"Therefore, there is only one legacy in Philthorpe Comber."

"It's just a pity that Felthorpe's body is dead and his soul is stored in the blood fetus. Others cannot touch it and can only be inherited by the host."

"This bloody rose is not only a variant of transfiguration, but also carries Felthorpe's understanding and knowledge of transfiguration. It is also the secret of bloodline, allowing people to incorporate the unique bloodline of vampires into their bodies through the Animagus method. ”

"But it seems like it needs a little more to mature."

"Also, you need to know that vampires are known to be natural shapeshifters."

…

…