Hogwarts: I can load entries infinitely!

In the headmaster's office, the air was originally quiet, with only the slight snoring of the old headmasters in the portraits on the wall echoing from time to time.

Dumbledore sat behind his desk, flipping through a thick book attentively, his fingertips sliding gently on the yellowed pages.

Suddenly, a muffled sound came from afar.

At first, the sound was low, like the whimper of the wind blowing through the Forbidden Forest.

However, it did not dissipate, but came one after another, like a heavy drumbeat, beating the tranquility of Hogwarts.

Dumbledore slowly raised his head, and his blue eyes revealed a trace of alertness.

He put down the book, stood up, and his wide robe swayed slightly.

The portraits on the wall also moved one after another - several dozing headmaster portraits frowned first, and then woke up one by one.

"Albus, something seems to be wrong."

A portrait said, with a serious expression.

"Such sounds are rarely heard in Hogwarts."

Another portrait added, with a hint of worry in his tone.

Dumbledore nodded, his expression still calm.

He reached out and picked up the wand on the table, waved it gently, and the items on the desk quickly returned to their places.

He didn't say much, just whispered:

"I'll go and see."

When Dumbledore walked out of the headmaster's office quickly, his steps suddenly stopped.

A soft silver light flashed from the crack of the door, accompanied by a faint halo, illuminating the dim corridor.

An elegant doe stood quietly at the door, its silver body like mist.

——

In the hidden classroom, the air was so stuffy that it was suffocating, as if even breathing was restrained by this oppressive atmosphere.

The walls around were covered by heavy curtains, and almost no light could penetrate. The only light source was the blazing fire under the huge crucible in the center of the classroom.

The fire cast a light and dark shadow on Snape's thin face, and his expression was cold and focused.

The crucible was terrifyingly huge, much larger than any pot commonly used in Hogwarts.

It exuded an old smell of rust and coke.

The liquid in the crucible rolled, and at first only a layer of fine bubbles appeared, but as Snape poured bottles of strange liquid into it, the water surface began to boil violently, and even exploded with sparks, like flickering will-o'-the-wisp.

Peter Pettigrew huddled in a corner of the classroom, his mouse-like eyes trembling in the dim light.

Peter's face was pale, and fine beads of sweat appeared on his forehead.

His eyes were fixed on the crucible, full of undisguised fear and disgust.

"What... what is this?"

Peter murmured in a very low voice, but then covered his mouth, fearing that Snape would notice him.

However, Snape's attention was completely focused on the crucible.

His fingers were slender and pale, and they looked like some hungry creature in the light and shadow.

He picked up a bottle of dark red liquid and slowly poured it into the crucible. The liquid made a "hissing" sound when it fell into the boiling water, and then the liquid in the whole pot began to emit a strange luster.

"Wormtail, shut up."

Snape said coldly, his voice cutting through the air like a blade, causing Peter to shudder.

The sparks in the liquid became more and more frantic, and the steam rose up and filled the entire classroom.

Snape's figure became blurred in the mist, as if he had turned into some kind of shadow lurking in the dark.

The steam carried a pungent smell, like burnt meat mixed with rotten plants, which was disgusting.

The surface of the crucible began to flash with strange light, as if countless tiny diamonds were swimming in the water.

The flames jumped more and more crazily, and even the shadows around them seemed to be twisting and struggling.

"It's done, Master."

Snape whispered, with a cold surrender in his tone.

At this time, an extremely cold voice came from a corner of the classroom.

The voice was so low that it was almost inaudible, but it was like a call from the depths of darkness, making people shudder from the bottom of their hearts.

"Now..."

Before the voice fell, a huge owl suddenly fell from the sky, and its wings spread out almost obscured the firelight.

The owl circled over the crucible for a few times, made a sharp cry, and then swooped down suddenly, diving straight into the boiling solution.

As its body sank into the crucible, the water surface was violently surging, and the sparks in the solution were like dancing lightning, making a harsh hissing sound.

The owl's feathers were quickly melted, and the solution became more turbid and emitted a pungent stench.

The classroom echoed with the slight impact of the owl's soft body touching the bottom of the crucible, as if some terrible countdown had begun. Peter covered his mouth tightly with his hands, but still couldn't help but retching.

Snape was talking, his voice trembling, but he had no choice but to do it.

Snape's hands trembled slightly, but he didn't stop.

He raised his wand, closed his eyes, and spoke slowly in a low voice with a sense of cold ritual:

"Father's bones, accidentally donated, can make your son reborn!"

As soon as the words fell, a small cloth bag on the table trembled, as if an invisible force was driving it.

The mouth of the bag slowly opened, and a wisp of gray-white ashes floated into the air, hovering in the air for a moment before gently falling into the boiling crucible.

The diamond-like liquid surface in the crucible suddenly exploded, making a harsh "hissing" sound, sparks bursting, and the hot liquid instantly turned into a strange bright blue, with a sticky poisonous light on the surface. A disgusting smell of corruption was faintly revealed in the steam.

Peter Pettigrew covered his mouth tightly, his teeth trembling due to excessive force, his eyes widened, but he dared not look away, as if if he missed any second, the horror would come.

Snape's calmness seemed even more chilling in this scene.

His face was stiff, and his lips were tightly pursed, as if he was suppressing some kind of deep inner uneasiness.

He walked to the workbench, carefully picked up a package, and opened it slowly and cautiously.

When the object in the package was revealed, Snape's eyes twitched slightly. It was a complete broken arm, pale and thin. There were still many burn marks on it.

Snape gritted his teeth, raised his broken arm, and whispered with a trembling tone:

"The flesh of a servant, voluntarily donated, can bring your master back to life."

He threw the arm into the crucible, and with a dull "plop", the broken arm fell into the boiling liquid, the blood and flesh melted quickly, and the solution in the crucible turned into a strong fiery red.

The fire suddenly became bright, reflecting the whole classroom as blazing and terrifying as the depths of hell.

Pettitte couldn't bear it anymore. He curled up in the corner, covering his eyes with both hands, but still couldn't stop the dazzling red light from penetrating his eyes.

He wanted to scream, but forced himself to be silent, and could only make a suppressed groan deep in his throat.

Snape's face became paler and his breathing became intermittent.

He forced himself to stand up, reached into his robe, and took out a small bottle of bright red blood.

His voice was as weak as a candle flickering in the wind, but he still calmly completed the last spell:

"The blood of your enemies, forced to give, can resurrect your enemies..."

He poured the blood into the crucible.

Instantly, the red liquid surged like a living thing, and the flickering sparks turned into countless dazzling white lights, so dazzling that people dared not look directly at it.

Snape knelt on the ground, his fingers loosened weakly, and his whole body limp, as if all his strength was drained.

His eyelids were so heavy that he could hardly open them.