Chapter 221 Stealing

Sirius Black looked through the gray window and scanned every corner of the dormitory, but saw no sign of Peter Pettigrew. He focused his eyes on the handsome boy's face again.

The wand was held tightly in his hand and kept shaking. He was a little excited. He took a deep breath and tried to calm down his restless desire for revenge.

He couldn't help but be excited. If a thought passed through his mind thousands of times, it would be remembered deeply and firmly. But if a thought passed through his mind every day and night for ten years, the depth would be unimaginable. Chiseled into the soul.

What's more, this idea is still about James, about betrayal, about revenge, about letting down his best friend's wholehearted trust, which then led to the death of both his best friend and his wife, leaving only an orphan... What kind of hatred is this!

Sirius Black's breathing was restless in the dark corridor, like a beast. He took three steps and two steps at a time, walking past the windows and walking towards the door of the bedroom, but his eyes were fixed on the window. silhouette.

The young man in the dormitory seemed to hear something. He turned his head and only heard:

"Anders!"

Professor McGonagall's voice came from the far end of the corridor, and Sirius' heart suddenly twitched. He put his wand in his pocket, turned into a big black dog, turned over and jumped into the darkness.

Meka Anders squinted at the corridor, with some confusion on her face.

He clearly felt that he heard footsteps, but did not see anyone, but his hearing was excellent, and he was sure that he heard correctly.

"Is it Boguna?" Meka thought.

The sound of footsteps approached, and Professor McGonagall knocked on the door, waking Meka up from her thoughts.

He opened the door and saw Professor McGonagall saying hurriedly:

"There is another patient in the school hospital. He was discovered after another screening - are you resting well now?"

One more?

Meka rubbed her temples: "It's okay, let's go."

After closing the door, the two hurried back to Professor Snape's office and continued to refine the special antidote.

…

After a busy day, Meka was so tired that she just fell on the bed and dozed off without even changing out of her robe.

He got up early the next morning. He glanced at Harry, who was sleeping soundly with half his face covered in the white mosquito net on one side. He quietly entered the bathroom, washed his face, and then returned to the bed. Sit down at the table.

After taking out Bithia's portrait and placing it on the table, Meka took out a new quill, a bottle filled with blood, and uncorked the bottle.

He closed his eyes and recalled in his mind the 'rune pattern' that Bithiya had left for him. It seemed like a burning blood-red rose. Each stroke was like claws and teeth, as if it was about to jump out of the paper. out.

"The first stroke, start from the center..." Meka opened her eyes, holding a quill, dipped it in the blood in the bottle, and began to write on the edge of the portrait.

He looked extremely focused, and made every stroke carefully before placing it.

This 'rune pattern' is an integrated pattern, so there should be no flaws at the junction of the strokes, otherwise it will be invalid.

Half an hour later, Meka carved a third of a bloody rose pattern on the white wall of Bithiya's pointed hat in the portrait. He stopped and looked at it again. After confirming that there were no flaws, he again Take action.

This stroke is even more important because it happens to be the most delicate part of this pattern.

There are twelve hairline-like strokes that are particularly long and have a certain curvature. In order to maintain its curvature, Meka had to divide the strokes into three times, but as a result, twelve subtle connection points appeared, which required Meka to Ka started writing very carefully, completing their strokes while making sure that there was no 'continuation' visible here.

But the more you need to focus, the more likely it is that problems will arise. Harry, who was sleeping, suddenly murmured twice, making Meka mistakenly think that he was about to wake up. His hand shook, and the strokes went to an unknown place, sliding directly onto Bithia's face.

"Ron, you want to play chess with Neville again..." Harry muttered, turned over, and fell silent again, apparently falling asleep again.

Meka sighed, glanced at him, and then looked at the bloody strokes on the portrait: "Next time, I must find a time when no one is around to draw this thing..."

He stretched out his magic spell and recited a cleaning spell, which washed away all the bloody strokes on the portrait.

I relaxed my shoulders and tried writing again.

Another forty minutes passed, and it was already bright outside. Meka drew almost half of the strokes this time, and finally failed at the continuation point of a certain stroke.

However, the point of failure this time is different. This continuation point, which is close to one-half of the 'rune' pattern, seems to not allow people to continue writing. It will produce a natural sense of isolation. It can only be washed away by the magic power as gentle as a trickle. , to continue writing.

This resulted in more areas to pay attention to, and because Meka's natural magic power was much thicker than that of ordinary people, it was more difficult, which led to this failure.

"It still requires some skills..." Meka frowned and thought.

Although he tried twice without success, he also figured out some techniques to quickly adjust back to his own state when he was distracted, and he also knew better how to control the output of magic power, making the magic power more arbitrary.

After looking at the bottle on the table that originally contained half a bottle of blood, it was now empty. Meka could only put away the things and wash her face.

Just after hanging up the towel, there was a knock on the door:

"Mr. Anders?"

Is Professor Flitwick coming today? Maeka was startled and opened the door.

At the door, Professor Flitwick was wearing a white robe with fine lines. His old face looked a little tired and had big dark circles under his eyes.

He looked at Maeka and asked:

"Have you rested well? If so, I'll take you to the hall for breakfast so that you can make potions early - of course, if you are still very tired, you can sleep for a while, and I'll come back later."

Maeka didn't answer, but stuck his head out, looked at the corridor, and asked in confusion:

"Where is Professor McGonagall?"

When Professor Flitwick heard this, he sighed: "Something happened to Professor Sprout, and a lot of herbs in the shed were stolen. Professor McGonagall went to check."

The herbs in the shed were stolen? Maeka touched his chin.

Did Bogunna Rocco do it?

If it was really him, what did he need the herbs for? Make potions?

"Is it serious?" Maeka asked again.

"Of course, the potted plants were scattered everywhere, and the ground was covered with porcelain pieces and soil. It was almost burned." Professor Flitwick recalled the scene and shook his head.

Meka squinted: "Can I ask what herbs were lost?"

Professor Flitwick thought for a while and said: "Moon petals, two-ear grass, ancient... I can't remember clearly, it seems that there are all kinds, and there are many kinds. I heard from Professor Sprout that even some of her personal collection of bezoars and many other materials that are not plants were taken away."

"Let's not talk about this." He looked at Meka again: "Professor McGonagall told me to take you there..."

"Wait a minute, I'll get some clothes." Meka walked back into the house, took a robe and put it on, and hurried out the door.

……

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