aircannonsinc Chapter 254 Exploring the Mysteries of the Execution Ground in America
Chapter 254 Exploring the Mysteries of the Execution Ground in America
Chapter 254 Exploring the Mysteries of the Execution Ground in America
Picking up where we left off, Harry declared that he would personally hand over the five hundred Galleons to Rita, his words resolute and unwavering.
The demon immediately understood from the tone: this scarred man wasn't there to deliver money as instructed; he was clearly seeking revenge and debt collection!
After he dipped his brush in ink and finished writing the documents, the fairy hurriedly put them away, bowed deeply, and asked in a shrill voice, "Mr. Potter, when do you intend to see Ms. Rita Skeeter?"
Harry said, "Now, right now!"
The fairies nodded hastily and filed out the door.
After Harry walked away and the mirage dissipated, Hermione's figure reappeared on the sofa.
She turned to him, asking curiously, "Harry, why did you kill Skeeter?"
Harry was puzzled. "What you're saying is very strange, sister. I may not be a clay Buddha in a temple, but I'm not a bandit in the forest either. How can you say I want to kill her?"
Hermione's expression stiffened, and she stammered, "Ah—I thought you wanted revenge, after all, she wrote quite a few articles smearing you and stuff—of course, I'm not saying you're petty—"
She rambled on and on, but the more she spoke, the more rambling and incoherent she became. I quickly took a breath, changed the subject, and said, "Anyway—what do you want with Rita Skeeter?"
Harry laughed and said, "Don't be in such a hurry, big sister. It's nothing immoral or unethical. We can talk about it when that woman arrives."
After saying that, she changed the subject, "I heard from Mrs. Weasley that there's a wizard living in this house. I suppose that must be the eldest sister?"
"Yes, after all, my parents sold the house, so I have to find a place to live."
"Although Mrs. Weasley said I could go to the Burrow and stay with Ron and Ginny, I think I can take this opportunity to get to know the Order of the Phoenix better."
Speaking of the Order of the Phoenix, Hermione flipped over the back of the sofa and sat down opposite her at the dining table, saying seriously, "Harry, I don't know how you view the Order of the Phoenix, but you are the leader of the Boxers, and you are on equal footing with Professor Dumbledore."
"Unless you believe the Boxers were merely a subordinate organization of the Order of the Phoenix."
These words were sincere and came from the bottom of his heart. Harry clasped his hands and said, "I understand your advice, elder sister. In the martial world, one cannot be ambiguous about one's reputation."
Hermione nodded with a look of relief. Suddenly, she seemed a little uneasy and glanced around nervously.
"Well, I suggest you don't live at number twelve Grimmauld Place, as it will obscure your identity as a leader of the Boxers."
Harry shook his head after hearing this. "Big sister, you don't know this. Professor Dumbledore has long intended to incorporate the Order of the Phoenix into the Boxers."
"After careful consideration, I suggest that we stay at the old house for now, visit each other more often, and let all the sisters and brothers get to know each other. In the future, when the two groups are united, there will be less distance and more mutual support."
That makes perfect sense. Hermione sighed and said, "Alright, then I'll just stay here by myself."
The conversation turned to the lodgings. Harry quickly got up, picked up Hermione's luggage, and said with a smile, "Since you're staying here for a long time, let me help you prepare a clean room, lay out the bedding, and put away your trunks so you can stay comfortably."
Having said that, he led Hermione upstairs.
Upon reaching the second floor, one sees three bedrooms on either side of the corridor.
Hermione pushed open the door to the left-hand bedroom and saw that the room was neatly arranged with tables, chairs, and cabinets, and on the bedside table was a wedding photo of the Dursleys.
Harry said, "This is the master bedroom, the most spacious one. What do you think, eldest sister?"
Hermione pretended to think it over, then shook her head and said, "Let's forget it, it sounds too old-fashioned."
After saying that, he pushed open the door to the right room and saw that the room was in a mess, with oil paper, sugar bags, and pastry crumbs scattered all over the floor, as if a glutton had rolled around in it.
Harry added, "This used to be my cousin's place; the windows are quite bright."
Without a second thought, Hermione shook her head vigorously, "No, I feel like my feet will stick to this floor if I step on it."
Before he finished speaking, he had already turned and headed towards the last room.
When I opened the door, I saw that although the room was narrow, there were toys and dolls on both sides. Although they were densely packed, they were orderly in their chaos and quite refreshing.
Hermione crossed her arms and pretended to think for a while, then put her hands on her hips and nodded, saying, "This one is nice."
"Ah, wait, Harry, this is your room, isn't it?"
Harry laughed and said, "If you like it, then I'll find you a new set of bedding."
After saying that, he left in a hurry.
As he was rummaging through the chests and boxes, he suddenly heard the doorbell ring. He immediately put down what he was doing, grabbed the hilt of his knife, and went downstairs to answer the door.
Pushing open the door, there was no one in sight, only a seven-foot-long coarse burlap sack lying across the porch, bulging as if filled with heavy objects. The sack was tightly tied with straw rope, and a piece of parchment was attached to the knot.
Harry pulled it out and looked at it closely. He saw that it said:
Ms. Rita Skeeter is inside; please don't tell her who brought her here.
Because she was very reluctant to see you, we had to resort to some special methods.
After reading it, the ink on the paper faded away on its own.
Harry tossed the parchment aside and dragged the sack inside. He untied the knot, turned the sack upside down, and with a shake, a person rolled out – it was Rita Skeeter.
His clothes were disheveled, his eyes rolled back, and he lay limply on the ground, unconscious.
Harry went to the kitchen, scooped up a cup of water, and splashed it on the woman's face. She jolted awake. Her eyes darted around nervously, and when she saw Harry's face, all color drained from her.
She scrambled backward, kicking and crawling, her upper and lower teeth chattering, crying out in terror, "No, don't come any closer! This is illegal imprisonment!"
Harry didn't answer. Instead, he grabbed her collar and shoved her into a chair. He took Lockhart's will from his pocket and threw it in front of her, saying, "This is the last will and testament of an old acquaintance of yours. He's leaving you a sum of money. Take a look."
Although Rita did not know who the old acquaintance was, upon hearing the word "money," she suppressed her fear and tremblingly unfolded the parchment.
The original suicide note was quite verbose, over ten feet long, but this woman had a keen eye and could sift out the key points from the thousands of words in no time.
Suddenly, her eyes widened, and forgetting even her fear, she jumped up and shouted, "Five hundred Galleons?!"
"I did so much for him and he only left me 500 Galleons!"
When Nalita saw that she only received 500 Gallons, she was so angry that her three spirits were jumping up and down, and she kept cursing.
Harry retrieved the will, folded it slowly, and put it back in his pocket before saying, "I've long heard that you and the professor are a perfect match, a golden saddle and a fine horse, a good general with a precious sword, truly a match made in heaven."
"Although the professor has only left five hundred, I am willing to add five thousand to that number for you. What do you say?"
If it were anyone else offering money, this woman would have happily accepted it. But since it was that scarred man who handed her the money, Rita's heart pounded wildly. Haven't you heard the saying, "A weasel offering New Year's greetings to a chicken—does it have any good intentions whatsoever?"
She dared not accept it, nor dared she refuse, so she could only clutch the tiny pink packet in her hand tightly and say with an awkward smile, "This is far too much for you, Mr. Potter. How could I possibly take your money for nothing? In fact, Lockhart and I are just ordinary friends—"
Harry cut her off, waving his hand dismissively, "Stop talking nonsense! I'll only ask one question: are you going to take the five thousand Galleons or not?"
'
Rita's heart skipped a beat, and she tentatively asked, "—I...I won't accept it?"
Harry's eyes widened suddenly, and he immediately reached for his ring knife at his waist. "How dare you be so disrespectful! Are you trying to embarrass me?!"
Rita felt as if her intestines were twisted into a knot, and quickly corrected herself, "No, no, no, I misspoke, I take it back!"
Harry immediately calmed down and said, "Since I've accepted your gold, I'll have to trouble you, my wife, to handle this matter. Is this a fair deal?"
Rita had cursed Harry's ancestors to the last eight generations in her belly, wishing she could devour his flesh and drink his blood, but on her face she forced a wilted smile and said, "Oh, Mr. Potter, of course I'd like to do something for you, but I'm afraid I can't do it—after all, I'm just a useless little reporter."
She described herself as humble, but Harry seemed not to hear her, staring intently at her face. "That's alright, it's not like I'm asking you to take your wand and fight with people."
Rita, relieved to hear it wasn't about fighting, asked, "Then what do you need me to do?"
"Keep an eye on that bastard Grindelwald."
Rita was stunned for a long time, even her breath caught in her throat, and the only sound in the room was the faint sound of running water.
After a long silence, she shakily raised her hand, pointed to the tip of her own nose, and said, "Me?"
"Exactly, why?"
"Ha, ha! You're really joking!" Rita jumped to her feet, her face turning pale, and forced a dry laugh. "How could I possibly spy on such an important person?"
Harry chuckled. "What's so scary about it? Grindelwald has the world on his mind, how could he possibly have a liking for someone like you?"
Rita's face changed color several times as she racked her brains. Suddenly, a thought struck her, and she exclaimed, "But he is a prophet!"
"He'll definitely find out you sent me to spy on him!"
Harry laughed loudly, "Since I sent you, I've already thought through every possible step. What's there to fear about prophecy?"
"When you get to America, someone will tell you what to do, how to do it, and how to defend yourself."
After Harry finished speaking, he took a pen and paper and quickly wrote a payment document for five thousand Galleons. He then signed it, pressed his fingerprint on it, and slammed the document onto the table.
"Go to Gringotts and cash out your bet. When things are settled, I'll add a zero to the end of the amount for you, it won't hurt."
Rita, seeing that things had come to this point, knew she couldn't refuse any longer, and thought to herself:
The five thousand Galleons plus my own savings total about thirty thousand, which, if I'm frugal, will be enough for the rest of my life.
Let me think—hmm, perhaps I could seek refuge in South America or Asia.
A thousand thoughts raced through her mind, but she finally steeled herself, snatched the receipt, stuffed it into her pocket, and forced a smile.
"Alright, Mr. Potter, I'll do whatever you say."
Harry was satisfied and nodded, saying, "Good. I'll add another layer of protection."
As he finished speaking, he removed his black gloves, lightly brushed his left palm against Rita's face, and then withdrew his hand.
Rita blinked, puzzled. "Mr. Potter? What are you doing—"
"I've planted a venomous snake in you to prevent you from running away with the money."
"I'm quite skilled now, and this poison won't take a year to take effect. Just do your job well, and the antidote will be given to you when the time comes."
Upon hearing this, Rita's face drained of color. She hurriedly rolled up her sleeves, tugged at her collar, looked in the mirror, and stammered, "You...you're joking, right? Mr. Potter? I believe someone as kind as you wouldn't do such a thing!"
Harry crossed his legs and said leisurely, "You're supposed to be well-informed, but didn't you know that my left arm is sealed with Basilisk venom?"
These words struck Rita like a thunderbolt, her body went limp instantly, the makeup mirror in her hand shattered, and she slumped stiffly in the chair, half-dead in body and soul.
It is:
In the past, he was busy making up lies; today, he's run into a scarred man.
Sent to the tiger's den to keep watch on the owl's eyes, only then did he realize that the debt of sins inflicted by the pen was hard to repay.
After Rita moved out the door like a living dead, Hermione's voice suddenly came, full of suspicion and confusion.
When did you arrange for someone to be in the United States?
Harry turned around and saw Hermione standing by the railing. Her ochre hair was wet and loose over her shoulders, and she was wearing only a loose shirt and knee-length shorts. Her neck was still damp, clearly indicating that she had just taken a bath.
Harry sized her up, his gaze sharp and piercing, making Hermione extremely uncomfortable. She instinctively brushed her wet hair behind her ear and said...
"Is there a problem?"
"Does this dress always come with you, elder sister? It looks strangely familiar."
Hermione descended the stairs gracefully, but skipped over Harry's previous words and said seriously, "Harry, don't tell me you really believe Skeeter could find out about Grindelwald."
Harry just smiled mysteriously, "Don't worry, elder sister, I have my own plans."
"So who exactly did you send to the United States?"
"It must not be spoken! It must not be spoken! Heavenly secrets cannot be revealed."
The more he tried to evade the question, the more Hermione felt an itch in her heart. She pleaded and begged for a long time, but couldn't get a single word out, so she had to give up in frustration.
He then turned to the dining table, muttering to himself, and prepared ink and paper to write a letter to Ron, summoning him to discuss how to storm the execution ground after losing the case.
Let's stop talking nonsense.
About a month later, the court will hold a trial.
At dawn, Black led Harry toward Hogsmeade. When they were still two or three miles from the village, they saw it was a dark mass of people.
People of all skin colors, heights, and builds mingled together, wizards and fairies, completely blocking the road. Even more outnumbered were those riding broomsticks, suspended in mid-air, a swarm resembling a locust plague.
Blake snorted and spat at the roadside, "A bunch of bastards watching the show. They'd love for you to be convicted."
Harry laughed, "I'd love for more people! That way, when things really get heated, it'll be easier to fish in troubled waters."
He exhaled again, and he and Blake concealed themselves, choosing a secluded path to sneak all the way to the village square.
Upon arrival, they found the square had been redesigned. The central statue had been removed, and officials from the Ministry of Magic were now densely packed on the surrounding benches.
Fudge sat in the middle with his belly sticking out, while Percy held a book next to him, his face as sculpted as stone.
Harry thought to himself: No wonder the Director and his wife have become so thin; it is truly a misfortune for the family.
As they were pondering this, Black's expression suddenly changed drastically. He gripped Harry's arm tightly and said sternly, "Harry, I think we have to run."
"Something's not right."
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