Chapter 605: Unknown Habits

"Mr. Dufrene, you give me the impression of being cold and remorseless. Just looking at you makes my blood run cold..."

"According to the power granted to me by the State of Maine, this court sentences you to serve two consecutive life sentences to pay for the lives of two deceased persons..."

"Adjourn!"

"..."

The slightly noisy movie dialogue sounded from the speakers, and the digital universal disc rotated in the projector, projecting light and shadow in the dim room.

Hermione curled up on the sofa seat with a blanket on her legs, brown woolen socks on her feet, and the pants that fit her well were a little short when she sat down, revealing a small section of her white and tender calves. Her upper body was lying on her back, leaning on the human flesh cushion, and her head was resting on Loren's shoulder.

Hearing that Andy in the movie was sentenced to prison, the girl turned her head to look at him with some distress: "He was wronged, right?"

Loren put one hand on the girl's shoulder, and naturally hugged the girl's body into his arms, taking a deep breath, fragrant and soft.

"I don't know, let's wait and see..."

The turmoil in the Ministry of Magic happened a few days ago. After returning home, the two tacitly put the turmoil in the magic world behind them and planned to spend a warm Christmas holiday with their parents, but the Grangers returned to the clinic early to work, and Grandpa Bates was nowhere to be seen all day, so the two became left-behind children.

After finishing their holiday homework, the two were too lazy to go out and wander around in the snow, so they stayed in the projection room all day, watching wonderful movies released in the past two years.

These two years are unprecedented in the film industry. High-quality movies such as "Forrest Gump", "Pulp Fiction", "Sunny Days" and "Eat Drink Man Woman" have emerged in groups, and the two have been so happy that they don't want to go to Hogwarts.

Occasionally, they will encounter some scenes that are not suitable for children. Fortunately, the two are no longer children, and the adjustment of a little shy scene is more exciting.

The shell of the projector has been hot for a long time. If it weren't for the magic that can quickly cool down and repair mechanical damage, the plastic shell that looks very old might melt due to long-term operation.

The scene changed, and the light of the screen quietly fell into darkness. Loren moved to the side comfortably and hugged the little witch tighter.

The girl was not unaware of anything. After the room fell into darkness, she also shrank into the man's arms, raised her head and secretly glanced at his face with her peripheral vision. Seeing that he looked focused on watching the movie, she didn't know why, but suddenly felt a little unhappy. She pursed her nose, snorted and focused on watching the movie.

"The Shawshank Redemption" is indeed a movie that is destined to go down in history. A large number of fixed shots bring the audience into that depressed prison, watching Andy find joy in the prison, seeking hope from despair, and being crushed when he saw hope, and finally relying on faith and wisdom to break the prison's confinement and gain freedom.

This is not the first time Loren has watched this movie, but he can immerse himself in it every time.

Hermione watched the last scene of the movie. Rhett followed the instructions left by Andy and reunited with his old friend at the beach. The two free souls celebrated each other... Perhaps influenced by the movie, she couldn't help but shrink into Loren's arms again, mumbling and sharing her feelings:

"Most movies focus on finding out the truth and letting the protagonist clear his grievances, but this movie is very innovative..."

"Hmm..."

"The director hinted from the beginning that the truth is not important..."

"Hmm..."

"Some birds can't be caged. Each of their wings shines with the glory of freedom. This is Tagore's poem..."

At the moment when Loren was about to perfunctory again, he noticed the girl's slightly dangerous eyes. He pretended to think, lowered his eyes, saw the small part of the calf exposed outside, and asked softly after a moment of hesitation: "Are you cold?"

Hermione was still immersed in the touching and philosophical thoughts brought by the movie. Without thinking too much, she nodded subconsciously.

"Why didn't you say it earlier? You're so old, but you don't even know you're cold..."

Loren muttered to himself, loosened his arms, pulled the girl's feet over and covered them in his arms, his movements were natural and smooth, his expression was calm and composed, and he didn't give her time to react at all.

Hermione's feet felt a little itchy, and she seemed to feel the soft and elastic touch and warm body temperature from his abdomen. Her whole body couldn't help but shrink slightly, and her legs froze.

This atmosphere didn't last too long. The projector started playing the next movie, Quentin's "Pulp Fiction".

Loren looked straight ahead, watching very seriously, and this posture made Hermione relax a little.

However, where the girl couldn't see, Loren's peripheral vision looked down, focusing on admiring the pair of well-proportioned and slender legs. They were soft to the touch, but the joints could be touched. Through a layer of soft woolen socks, he seemed to be able to feel the smooth skin. Unconsciously, the action of covering for warmth turned into rubbing, and finally developed into kneading like playing.

Hermione stared at the screen, but the picture in her eyes was a little blurry, and her eyes were full of water. She soon stopped feeling cold, and her skin began to feel slightly hot. A strange emotion began to spread in her heart.

They had physical contact before, and kissing each other was a familiar action, but this feeling was a little different from the past.

The movie ended, and neither of them had any impression of the plot, but they both remembered the director named Quentin, and always felt that he had some unknown hobbies.

…

Ten o'clock in the evening.

After dinner at Granger's house, Loren returned home and washed up and went to bed. He closed his eyes and his consciousness sank into a dream, into the alchemy laboratory of the Book of Fantasy.

There are crystal red stone powder suspended on the operating table, glowing with a brilliant red light. This is the test product that Loren has used to analyze the magic stone and try to reconstruct it these days.

"The magic power contained in the powder is still very thin and unstable, and is easily affected by the outside world..." Flamel has been doing test projects for him recently, as well as studying the two gems from the Department of Mysterious Affairs. Even his hobby of studying drama has been temporarily put aside, and I haven't seen him reading a book recently.

"After all, these magic stone imitation powders are just attempts using ordinary alchemy. There is almost no reference to the "Book of Abraham". It was already anticipated before production..."

Loren put the powder into a glass dish, not caring much about their performance: "Let's talk about those two gems. Have you discovered anything, Flamel?"

The silver ghost floating in the air shook his head: "I can't touch the golden gem soaked in the magic of time at all. As for the other magic gem stripped out of the planet room, it gave me some space inspiration."

"Tell me the details."

"According to your Muggle interpretation of natural science, space is an objective form of material existence relative to time... Space can be expressed by length, width, height, and size..."

Flamel is a master of alchemy. After he was fully exposed to Muggle scientific knowledge, he seemed to combine some profound magical principles with basic scientific principles, explaining it in a simple and easy-to-understand manner, but more comprehensively than before.

Loren seemed to have returned to the days when he had just opened the fantasy book, eagerly absorbing new knowledge.

…

The new year has just begun, and it is the time when the temperature in Little Hangleton is the lowest. Most villagers are more willing to stay at home, light firewood, and watch the strong flames rise in the fireplace.

The elderly people watched the children who were at home during the holidays using iron sticks or wooden sticks to poke the stove fire, and stopped them with a smile. If a child cried, they would try to divert the child's attention, such as talking about the village. The house on the hillside outside is called Riddle's mansion.

If Riddle had grown tired of hearing the story, some of the older men might have mentioned another eccentric family that had died earlier, whose surname was Gaunt.

On the outskirts of Great Hangleton, which is a few kilometers away from Little Hangleton, the dense nettle bushes are covered by snow, and some nettle branches and leaves still spread to the windows... No, there are no windows at all, and they are covered with thick The old dirt, the walls collapsed, the tiles were incomplete, ice and snow fell into the house along the gaps, the water vapor made the room damp and cold, black and green mold grew on the wooden furniture and beams, and there was an obscure smell lingering nearby. Rotten smell.

In the main room where the shape could barely be seen, Voldemort gently shook his bloody fingers. The scabbed skin after extensive burns burst open, and disgusting pus mixed with blood flowed down.

He looked at a young animal in the corner of the room. The deer was very thin, its skin almost hanging on the bones, its hair was withered, and even a little bald. The yellow and white spots were stained with a layer of gray and black, making it look very sick. .

"Dear Severus, I know you are in pain. I know what it feels like to be stripped of your body. You are worse than a ghost, worse than the humblest wandering spirit. The pain exceeds everything and nothing can resist it. Live, you can only possess this weakest creature, and you can’t help yourself..."

Voldemort picked up the worn-out wand on the table. This was not his wand. The wand with yew phoenix tail feathers had long been burned in Dumbledore's flames. This was not Snape's wand either. He didn't even have an inch of skin. Preserved.

"Yes, I know, these days are very difficult, and every spell that can help us requires the use of a wand... I was too careless, obsessed with executing the most careful plan, so I was frustrated by luck and chance... …But, but…”

Voldemort chuckled. This wand came from his dearest uncle, Morfin Gaunt. He died in Azkaban, and those stupid Aurors actually buried him and his wand in the old Gaunt house. in the cemetery.

"But we've gotten through the toughest times..."

Voldemort pointed the wand at himself. The wand may have sensed the same bloodline as the previous owner. The tip of the wand shone with crystal light. If someone braved the heavy snow and came to the suburbs and walked through the dense nettles, they would see it. The dilapidated windows of Gunter's old house emitted a silvery glow.

The blackened and suppurating scabs fell off quickly, the bloody skin slowly squirmed, and the white and tender new skin healed quickly.

A few seconds later, the fingers holding the wand became slender and pale again, Voldemort showed a terrible smile, and the scarlet snake eyes became hollow and cold: "I swear, for the rest of my endless life, I will always remember these things that I cannot sleep with." Day and night, we will remember our embarrassing figures digging out the grave inch by inch..."

"I will let all wizards understand who is the final winner!"

"Before that, I need a suitable wand..."

…

Of all the half-Muggle, half-wizard settlements, perhaps the one on the far right is Godric's Hollow.

This place in the southwest of Britain has given birth to many famous wizards. The name of the village comes from Godric Gryffindor, one of the founders of Hogwarts. It is also the place where the wizard goldsmith Bowman Wright made the first Golden Snitch. The cemetery is engraved with the surnames of ancient wizard families...

As night falls, scattered stars shine in the deep blue sky.

This is the square in the center of the village. Christmas decorations are still preserved. There are colorful lights hanging around, ribbons flying on the Christmas tree, fragments of laughter from the houses on both sides of the street, and joyful carols from the chapel.

Accompanied by the sound of air explosions, a hooded figure suddenly appeared, with a pale face and red vertical pupils that were particularly conspicuous in the dark night.

The wizard who suddenly appeared identified the direction left and right and walked straight into the dark alley where the street lights could not reach. After a day of trampling by people, the snow on the road in Godric's Hollow was trampled, hard and slippery.

After passing a few houses, I turned to a door, walked into the path, crossed a deserted garden, and came to the door. The visitor smiled grimly and knocked lightly.

"Who is it?"

An old woman with a hoarse voice answered the door. She was too old, with sparse white hair and a clearly visible scalp. Her face was covered with intermittent blood vessels and age spots. Her eyes were deeply sunken in the transparent skin folds, and there were thick cataracts inside. She was so old that her back was hunched and she was particularly short. Her knuckles with purple spots against the peeling paint looked like dead vines.

The room smelled of old mold, dust, dirty clothes and spoiled food, but Voldemort didn't mind: "Bathilda?"

"I am..." The old man's voice was particularly hoarse, "Who are you?"

Voldemort didn't answer the question, but said to himself: "I trusted those incompetent servants too much and entrusted everything to them, so I forgot to think with my own brain, so I overlooked a question, how could a person who stole the Elder Wand be unknown?"

Bathilda vaguely sensed that something was wrong, and her old body struggled to squeeze out some tough posture: "No matter who you are, I advise you to leave as soon as possible!"

"As long as he has made a name for himself, as the world's oldest and most knowledgeable magic historian, Bathilda Bagshot will definitely recognize him..."

Voldemort stretched out his hand to stop the old man from closing the door, and a picture popped out between his index and middle fingers, with a picture of a smiling blond boy: "Tell me, his name..."

Powerful magic spread from the pair of scarlet vertical pupils.

Going straight into the old man's mind.