Chapter 172: What Dark Magic?
The sky was gradually darkening.
Tucklot carried the black suitcase and walked on the street, his steps anxious yet cautious; he used to slip around on the snowy road, but now he was afraid of falling.
Passing by the neighbor’s house, he ignored even their greeting, hurried back home, closed the doors and windows, drew all the curtains, squatted in front of the fireplace.
He opened the suitcase and took out the small projection mirror from a pile of cotton wadding.
Although he had watched hundreds of matches in the tavern and seen the moving pictures a dozen times in the dimly lit viewing hall on the third floor, Tucklot had never been so close to a projection mirror before—a not very large piece of quartz glass with silver mist floating inside, like an exquisite work of art.
Tucklot examined the crystal-clear projection mirror repeatedly; from his subjective perspective, this thing was completely different from the alchemical creations he had encountered before—no intricate engravings, no strange glows, just a plain yet special feeling.
He couldn’t describe it.
Following the installation method in the manual, he opened the slot on the back, sprinkled in a pinch of the included floo powder, and lit it using the fireplace fire.
Unlike the usual green flames that burst up, the floo powder burned exceptionally slowly, the green fluorescence passing from particle to particle like some kind of spice; a tiny pinch could burn for several hours.
As the fluorescence lit up, the silver mist began to swirl, ethereal clouds outlining vague contours, colors gradually emerging within the contours, clear striking sounds coming from both sides of the projection mirror.
As a former Quidditch player, Tucklot immediately recognized the sound of a beater striking the quaffle.
The team in the picture wore familiar uniforms—it was Scotland versus Canada, the revenge match after the World Cup final! And Scotland was leading by a large score!
Just one picture, and he was captivated by the projected content.
Scotland die-hard fan Tucklot was struck by an unprecedented viewing experience, holding the projection mirror and squatting in front of the fireplace, immersed in the intense match.
……
The sky was gradually turning dark.
Malcolm pushed open the neighbor’s door and was startled as soon as he entered the room.
The large house was pitch black with no candle flames or lights; a figure squatted in front of the hearth, his cheeks illuminated by different glows—one side by the red light of unburnt embers, the other by the silver light reflected from the projection mirror.
It looked like some kind of yin-yang-faced monster!
Malcolm recognized the face and patted his chest: “Tucklot, what are you doing squatting there? Not going to the tavern for a drink…”
“Ah, I’m watching the match.”
Tucklot in front of the fireplace came back to his senses, was about to stand up when his knees buckled, and he staggered, nearly falling.
Malcolm hurried over to steady him, grumbling complaints: “What are you using to watch the match? Is there any exciting match lately? How come I don’t know…”
Before he finished speaking, he had already seen the projection mirror and the content inside it.
He was instantly engrossed; he had originally planned to help his neighbor to the sofa, but now he couldn’t bear to move his feet, stared blankly for a few minutes, then slowly squatted down, immersed in the match moving picture.
……
England, west, Dorset.
The Newt Scamander family had returned from a long trip; the whole family going on holiday travel was their habit—they said it was to let the children see the outside scenery and rare magical creatures, but as a Scamander family child, Rolf felt that Grandpa Newt was the most enthusiastic one.
The holiday was about to end, term was starting soon, and the family was busy packing luggage for the child.
“Rolf, go to the warehouse and dig out the copper cauldron; you’ll need it next term,” Grandmother Tina called.
“Okay, Grandmother!”
Rolf ran to the warehouse with clinking sounds.
The warehouse stored miscellaneous items; during the long trip when they were away, mailed packages were piled here, all messy, quite troublesome to rummage through.
Rolf burrowed into the pile of packages and after a good while found the shopping list from Patched Cauldron Shop; as he held the package preparing to leave, he suddenly saw a special note.
「The young snake hatched successfully; here is a gift to express thanks.
——Professor Levent sent. 」
“Professor Levent sent this to Grandpa?”
Rolf scratched his head, unable to resist his curiosity, tore open the outer hard parchment, opened the suitcase, and took out the projection mirror and manual inside.
A teenager at the age of strongest hands-on ability, following the installation steps in the manual, soon lit up the projection mirror.
Then he became completely immersed in it.
An hour later, Newt quietly entered the room, looking at his grandson squatting in front of the fireplace: “Your grandmother is nagging about stuffing you into the cauldron; how did you hide here?”
“Ah?” Rolf looked up at the completely darkened sky outside, feeling a surreal sense of time travel, very unreal.
“What thing are you so engrossed in?”
Newt slowly walked over and saw the picture on the projection mirror clearly: an isolated island in the distant Pacific Ocean, hit by a tsunami, with raging storm and waves nearly swallowing the entire island.
A giant bird wrapped in lightning was crossing the massive waves.
……
“Newt! Rolf!”
Furious Tina pushed open the door, looking at the old and young standing in front of the fireplace, both exasperated and amused, complaining as she approached: “You two guys, I want to see what dark magic has bewitched you!”
Tina approached the fireplace, saw the content on the projection mirror clearly, showed a nostalgic expression, and sighed: “It’s a thunderbird.”
……
Ministry of Magic, Senior Deputy Minister’s Office.
Umbridge waited until all wizards had gone off work before leaving the office, stepped into the fireplace to go home, because she was carrying a box covered with a black cloth, inside which was a family projection mirror.
After promotion to Senior Deputy Minister, power quickly brought convenience; just by slightly revealing her wishes, subordinate wizards procured it for her and delivered it to the office.
Of course, no need to spend her own money; it went through the Ministry of Magic’s accounts.
Umbridge family old house was located in Wiltshire, like many pure-blood families. The home was arranged exactly like the office, with thick carpet on the floor, all rooms having shiny wooden doors, each with a small plaque on the door writing the name of the person inside.
She connected to the Floo Network according to the manual, and soon the picture and sound transmitted out.
Hearing the sound in the room, footsteps sounded from the upstairs hut; a hunched old wizard approached, stood behind her for a moment, and asked in a aged voice: “Isn’t this a Muggle television?”
“What did you say, old man?” Umbridge asked rudely.
The old wizard glanced at her fearfully and muttered softly: “I said this is a Muggle television; before I divorced your mother, I saw it in her house.”
“Don’t mention that Muggle woman!”
Umbridge seemed enraged, abandoning her usual saccharine voice for a shrill, piercing shout: “You want to go find them, don’t you? Your Muggle ex-wife, your Muggle-born son! And you, the unambitious repairman!”
“If not for your burdens, if I didn’t have the name Umbridge, if I were pure-blood born, I wouldn’t have only been promoted to Deputy Minister now!”
“…”
Old wizard Orford lowered his head, listening to his daughter’s screams, painfully closing his eyes.
