The Occult Warlock of Hogwarts

"Because there are two people who own the shop," Ms. Feier replied. "One is Borgin, who is dead. No one knows his name, and there is no need to know it now. The other is Bork, who is from a pure-blood family.

Bock people, strictly speaking, the actual owner of this store is Bock."

DeWitt put his hand in his pocket, rubbed the handle of the wand, and said thoughtfully: "I thought everything was settled that day..."

Ms. Feier said: "It was actually settled, because the shop owner, Mr. Bock, did not find any clues after the investigation. After a long time, he gave up on finding the murderer."

"Can you tell me something?" Hermione looked at Ms. Fierre and then at DeWitt and asked.

"The previous owner of this store wanted to rob my dear mother of her goods," DeWitt said lightly, "and I taught them a lesson - the day I didn't come to school in the first grade, I

I remember telling you."

Hermione was hesitant to speak. Ciri agreed very much with DeWitt's behavior. She said excitedly: "If someone wants to steal my things, I will definitely stab them in the neck!"<

/p>

"Go in and take a look," DeWitt said, knowing Hermione too well. "When you see the goods inside, you won't have sympathy for the criminals in Knockturn Alley."

Mr. Bock is a gloomy old man. The hair on his head is as sparse as the white fungus growing on the bark of a dead tree. His black eyes look at guests from the bottom up. In addition to being ugly and thin, Bock's

Characteristics are his crotch and slender limbs, and his aging nails that are yellow and cracked - like this kind of wizard, the treachery and insidiousness condensed in his life emerge from his heart, and therefore, he can tell who is who at a glance.

If you have money, who will make the decision? Even if the four people who came this time covered their faces and wore robes to hide their figures, it would be useless. Sure enough, he said to DeWitt enthusiastically: "Welcome! What do you want to buy?"

p>

Mr. Bock did not come out from behind the counter.

"It has to be strong enough," DeWitt said calmly and naturally, "it has to be fresh enough - money is not an issue."

Mr. Bock just came out from behind the counter. He was about to introduce, but DeWitt interrupted him impatiently: "Stop showing off your bright hand! I said - be fresh enough."

p>

"Oh?" Mr. Bock slowly turned his head, looked at DeWitt, looked at DeWitt carefully, and said slowly, "Where did you hear that there are 'fresh and exciting' products here?"

"The Malfoy family's guarantee," Ms. Fierre promptly threw out a token with the Malfoy family's magical seal and said coldly, "Is it enough?"

"Enough!" Mr. Bock used magic to catch the token, floated it in front of his eyes and looked at it carefully, then returned it to Ms. Feier, with a warm smile on his face again, made a "please" gesture, and said, "Follow me.

Come on."

"In the past, there were quite a few customers like you," Mr. Bock babbled. "I didn't know what I wanted... I didn't know what to buy... But I just knew I needed it... Who doesn't need some black magic?"

Where are the props? At this time, if there is a trustworthy person to introduce them, I will invite guests like you to come here... to collect them - these are all, but unfortunately there was a fire and the inventory was seriously damaged... Damn criminals...

...Let’s not talk about it for now, come and take a look at this..."

Walking down the cold steps into the basement, several torches fixed on the wall were lit at the same time. The stone slabs on the ground were dry and clean, with almost no dust. In this wide space, one after another, one after another, was regularly placed.

Light showcase.

"A turban that gathered the grievances of seven virgins who died of old age. It is said that every owner of this turban was unable to get married." Mr. Bock knocked on the first display cabinet with his wand and said, "This place is newly renovated and the environment is better.

There are a lot of goods here. Originally, the goods here had to be stacked together and stacked to the top, but now they can’t be placed scattered like this... Damn arsonist..."

"Not interested," DeWitt said, "Next. Wait, do you mind telling me how you made this headscarf?"

"Of course I don't mind," said Mr. Bock cheerfully, "look at the material... it's white with a little bit of black and gold thrown in - you can definitely tell it's made of those old maids' hair, just a collection of

The method of resentment has been lost, but the effect is still there. The most recent verification was sixty years ago. At that time, someone tracked the life of the owner of the headscarf. It was indeed true that he was not married, and his life was... very bumpy -

—Since using the headscarf."

"Continue." DeWitt said coldly.

Mr. Bock suddenly felt unreasonable fear for a moment, but he quickly regarded this brief emotion derived from intuition as an illusion, and then continued: "Then look at this - a conch. Of course, it looks like a conch, but

Look carefully at the lines on it... Those are the mouths of hundreds of gossiping Muggles. Talk to this conch, and it can repeat the content of what you said, and then make everyone who hears it believe this sentence...

”

"The Imperius Curse works better than this," DeWitt said. "This is not enough."

"You are indeed an expert," Mr. Bock also became excited. He likes knowledgeable people to appreciate his collection, but every time he thinks of this, he can't help but curse, "It's a pity that it's all the fault of that damn arsonist! Otherwise, it's all the fault of that damn arsonist!"

You can see more! It seems that you are not interested in these things that deal with Muggles. You know, in the past, these kinds of things were the hottest sellers, because the adult likes to watch Muggles die most, and these props

It can provide a wide variety of fun..."

"Isn't there something more imaginative?" DeWitt glanced at the silent Hermione and said, "Do the wizards who make these things only use human organs?"

"Actually, most black magic props are inseparable from human tissue, but if you think about it from another perspective, even normal props use the organs of magical animals, sir. There is no difference between Muggles and animals," Mr. Bock said in surprise.

Said, "You don't have sympathy for Muggles, do you?"

"It's ridiculous," DeWitt said sternly, "Either come up with something more useful, or..."

"Then let's go deeper," Mr. Bock became even more excited. He turned his head and led the way, spitting stars in excitement and said, "Look at these - made of mudbloods..."

Suddenly, a force came into contact with Bock's back, and the old man was knocked forward. At the same time, he felt some cold flakes touching his internal organs - once, twice, three times... on the fifth count.

At that time, the severe pain twisted his nerves, and the original coldness turned into blazing heat, burning his internal organs to the point of turning into ashes. Then he felt something draining from his body, and his vision was gradually shrouded in darkness, and he could no longer see clearly.

At that moment, Mr. Bock saw his own body lying at his feet, and underneath him was a pool of blood.

The guest who he had just regarded as his confidant was saying to the other guest who stabbed him to death: "Hermione, you are not calm anymore." Then Mr. Burke began to think about who Hermione was, and then he realized that he was in the middle of the soul.

In this state, his heart was filled with strong unwillingness and anger of being deceived. He wanted to see clearly who killed him. Anyway, he was already a soul, and no one would notice him... But the next second, Mr. Bock

He met DeWitt's teasing gaze, and it was at this time that he knew that his previous fears were not illusions, and that these fears all came from the so-called "distinguished guests".

Soon, Bock also knew why he was afraid - this fear was like the origin of the name Dementor. He saw with his own eyes a living wizard devouring his soul and then completely disappearing into nothingness.