The days of hanging out at Hogwarts

"Professor Sinistra, it has been thousands of years since the birth of magic and astronomy. Have no wizards explored the universe?"

"Of course, but there are no results."

"What do you mean?"

"About a few centuries ago, flying brooms became popular, and many people who were curious about the starry sky began their adventure. No matter how magical the magic is, the wizard's body is also flesh and blood. It cannot withstand the thin oxygen and low temperature. The impact is that if you read the current flying broom manual carefully, you will find the flight altitude limit in the precautions."

"It sounds like heavy casualties Ah."

"Generally speaking, the casualties caused by the spell are less than those caused by the floating spell."

...

"Professor Firenze, you centaurs are good at observing the stars. Have you ever tried to explore the universe?"

"The tentacles of magic have not yet spread beyond the earth. Strictly speaking, they have not even spread to the ocean..."

...

After consulting two professors in succession, Loren did not feel disappointed because he did not get an answer to the questions he had been thinking about these days. He said goodbye to the two professors and turned to leave. When he went upstairs, he met Professor Slughorn. He was holding the Daily Prophet in his hand, with a dazed expression and looked confused.

After a simple greeting, Loren quickened his pace and left.

Back in the common room, the flames in the fireplace burned quietly, and the orange-red flames looked warm. It was a weekend afternoon, and there were not many people in the common room. It was quiet and empty. Crookshanks was lying on the chair by the window seat, curled up, and his ginger hair looked softer than the cushion next to him.

Perhaps smelling his scent, Crookshanks opened his eyes a little, looked up at him slowly approaching, and then gently closed them, his fat belly rising and falling slightly with his breathing.

Loren bent down and picked up Crookshanks and sat down on the seat. The ginger fat cat twisted on his legs and changed to a comfortable position, too lazy to call.

Loren smoothed the fur on its back and asked, "Why are you here? Where is your master?"

"Meow..." Crookshanks narrowed his eyes and answered softly.

"Out, where did you go?"

"Meow..."

"Outside."

"..."

Loren looked out the window. The distance was too far. The figures of the students on the field were only a little bit. They were all those who were not afraid of the cold and risked catching a cold to have outdoor activities. There was indeed a row of subtle traces on the path in front of the greenhouse.

Probably Hermione's footprints.

Loren thought so and moved his eyes to a farther distance.

The leaves of the Whomping Willow fell off last month, leaving only bare branches, with almost no snow. I don't know if it was cleaned by the Bowtruckle living on the tree, or by itself shaking its branches.

There was a pile of snow on the window sill, blown by the wind, and the small piece at the bottom formed an irregular ice cube, crystal clear.

Loren's mind moved, and he hooked his fingers. The smallest piece of broken ice disappeared in the blink of an eye, and there was a touch of refreshing coldness in his palm.

He looked down at the broken ice. It was not large in size, and it was quickly melted by body temperature. Three or two drops of snow water fell on Crookshanks' nose along the palm lines. The stimulated kitten stretched out its tongue to lick it a few times, staring at him with a reproachful face.

Loren immediately wiped his palms and massaged the kitten's fur, apologizing repeatedly. Seeing that he had a good attitude of admitting his mistakes, Crookshanks whined twice and did not pursue the matter.

The magic just cast on the ice combined the summoning spell and the apparition spell, which attracted the space magic to affect the objects around him. After wandering in the starry sky that night, he had a new understanding of the concept of time and space, and developed new magic based on it.

It can be regarded as an advanced application of space magic. It does not require contact, crosses the barriers of reality, and directly transfers an object to the place he expects in the concept of space. At present, it can only be used for small objects at a very close distance.

It feels very promising.

…

The principal's office.

Ron sat in front of the desk with a solemn expression, his eyes moving left and right. The silverware on the table had been moved away. Now there were only two things in front of him, the Hufflepuff gold cup on the left and the Gryffindor sword on the right.

The gold cup was small and exquisite, with two finely processed pure gold handles on it, and a beautiful little badger carved on the cup.

The sword had a sharp blade, and the hilt was inlaid with a crystal clear red gem.

The spacious office was very quiet, and the phoenix Fawkes stood motionless on the perch. Harry stood at the side with a nervous look on his face, staring at the golden cup.

On the headmaster's seat opposite sat Professor Bagshot, who taught Defense Against the Dark Arts. He was very interested in the golden cup and planned to ask Albus for the remains of the golden cup for research after the Horcrux was destroyed. He was holding a teacup and observing silently, without urging or encouraging.

After taking a sip, Grindelwald frowned and put down the teacup in disgust.

The portraits of former headmasters on the wall held their breath and gathered together. Even old headmasters Foster and Black put aside their past grudges at this moment and stared at the sword blade nervously. They wanted to destroy Voldemort's Horcrux as soon as possible, but they couldn't bear to see the founder's relics destroyed like this. Their mood was very complicated at the moment.

Ron was still a little dazed. At first, he even thought that Dumbledore was joking with him. How could the headmaster let the prophesied savior stand aside and ask himself, an ordinary student with above-average grades, to destroy the Horcrux?

Unfortunately, Dumbledore couldn't answer his question now, as he had been out for half an hour after receiving the message.

Grindelwald and Harry didn't talk to him either, so no one helped him with his psychological preparation.

He could only make up his mind on his own.

"Uh..."

Ron swallowed his saliva and looked at the instructor in front of him tentatively, "Professor Bagshot, how about we do it at another time, or wait for Principal Dumbledore to come back, do you think it's okay?"

"Of course." Grindelwald's first half of the sentence made him feel relieved, but the second half of the sentence made him nervous again, "Remember to take this golden cup back and familiarize yourself with it..."

If it was Voldemort himself standing in front of him, Ron might have gritted his teeth and rushed over without hesitation. After all, he had overcome his fear and faced Voldemort in his first year. In order to buy time for his friends, he took the initiative to stay behind to cover his retreat, but facing the evil black magic thing like Horcrux, he always felt scared in his heart.

"Then let's deal with it immediately."

Ron took a deep breath and held the Gryffindor sword tightly.

The sword, which had not been blunted for thousands of years, absorbed the magic power of the basilisk venom to destroy everything. The blade with a cold light slashed across the golden cup, cutting a gap without much effort, and continued to cut along the gap, smoothly and without any obstruction.

The black mist filled with evil magic gushed out, and a sharp and shrill roar came from inside:

"Ron Weasley, the inferior, the cowardly Ron Weasley, do you think you can destroy me?! Your fragile soul is exposed to me without any hindrance, I can see, I can see...

"How ugly! Every time you see your brother's girlfriend, you hope she can kiss your face...

"You want to be intimate with the opposite sex, you are almost crazy about it, kiss your owl, kiss your aunt's photo, to make up for the emptiness in your heart..."

With each sentence, the gushing black mist expanded a part, becoming thicker and deeper, and continued to spread to the outside world, but was blocked by a layer of light blue flames, making a sizzling sound like snow water pouring into a fireplace.

Harry looked at the calm Grindelwald, then at Ron, and anxiously clenched his wand.

Ron's forehead was stained with a layer of black mist, looking dirty, and the blood on his face was fading quickly, and it was pale and a little scary.

"You don't like that girl at all, but you didn't refuse! Your dirty and ugly soul is worthless! Hand it over! Give it to me..."