Chapter 225 Value

In the Gryffindor dormitory, a night light was on, casting a moon-like light.

Meka Anders holds a quill in her hand, dipped in red liquid, and writes on an oil painting leaning against the wall.

In the oil painting, Bithia, a short elf wizard wearing a pointed hat, looks at the writer with half-squinted eyes. Above his head, a blood-red rose has appeared on the white wall, which is mysterious, charming, and lifelike. It was forced out of the gap in the wall.

But if you look closely, this bloody rose gives people a strange feeling. It is obviously beautiful, but it always feels like something is missing.

The only difference is the last petal.

Meka held his breath, picked up the quill attentively, and dipped it into the wide-mouth medicine bottle. As soon as he put down the pen, he was stunned. He raised his head and looked at the bottle. The blood inside had dried up.

"No more ink..."

Meka put down the quill, pinched her right wrist, and then breathed a sigh of relief:

"Fortunately, I had the foresight to keep Peter Pettigrew."

He glanced at the door and window behind him, and then at the clock on the wall: "At eight-thirty, evening self-study is allowed again today, so I won't be back soon."

Meka thought, putting her hand on the portrait, and heard a buzzing sound.

His hand sank into the painting, as if wrapped in a mire. The next moment, his whole body was dragged into the painting.

The lights flickered, and the only sound left in the dormitory was the sound of the clock turning. Bithia's half-closed eyes in the portrait flashed darkly, and she regained her composure.

…

The portrait space is as dull as ever, like a tin house after the rain.

The corridor was very dark, and you could only vaguely see a figure lying next to a stone pillar, with several empty bottles spread out messily next to it.

At this time, footsteps sounded, and Peter Pettigrew heard the sound, quickly got up from the ground, and said with a flattering smile: "Are you here?"

Meka came closer and looked at the injury on his chest. Seeing that it was much better, he took out a medicine bottle and nodded to him:

"Come and get some blood."

"I can do this myself." Peter Pettigrew smiled and took the potion bottle, but when he took the bottle, he was suddenly startled and looked at Meka's robe.

Meka looked at him strangely, then looked down at her clothes: "What? Is there any problem?"

Peter Pettigrew quickly shook his head: "Maybe my eyes were dazzled and I thought I saw something dirty."

He picked up the potion bottle, looked at his white arm, and suddenly gritted his teeth, breaking a hole, and blood flowed into the bottle.

Seeing his blood pouring into the bottle, Peter Pettigrew's face twitched. He raised his head and glanced at Meka, grinning and saying:

"My health has improved a lot recently. The bottles of blood-promoting potions you gave me are very effective. If you still need them tomorrow or the day after tomorrow, you can come to me."

Meka stared at the bottle in his hand, looking at the red solution rippling inside, and was startled:

"No, this is probably the last time. I've worked hard on you these days - but the bite you took today was a bit big, so I'm afraid it won't be easy for you to recover."

When Pettigrew heard this, his hand shook suddenly, and a few drops of blood fell to the ground.

His eyelids twitched and he said:

"Although I don't know what magic potion you want to refine, you might need to refine it next time. It's always good to prepare more materials. Besides, you gave me two more bottles of blood-producing potion yesterday. I feel bloody now. There are too many flowers to spend..."

Meka took out another bottle of blood-producing potion from his arms and handed it to him with a smile:

"To be honest, I finally know why this refining method has been eliminated. I can't stand it. We have a cooperative relationship. I got this bottle of potion from my teacher and gave it to you."

"You're too polite." Peter Pettigrew looked at the bottle of blood-producing potion he handed over and took a deep breath. "Then is there anything else I can do to help you later?"

Meka thought for a while and shook his head: "I'm just a student. I don't have so many things to be busy with."

"Is this so..." Peter Pettigrew lowered his head, his eyelids twitching faster.

He saw that there was already a lot in the bottle, corked the bottle, and handed it to Meka:

"Hold it carefully, but don't drop it..."

Meka smiled and nodded, taking it from his hand.

He watched the bottle of blood-red solution tumbling in it. Like the waves, a gray light illuminated the waves, bursting out with bright light.

Meka raised her head suddenly and saw Peter Pettigrew staring at him with a ferocious face, and said sharply:

"Split into pieces!"

Bang! The body of the potion bottle cracked into countless pieces of broken glass, and the blood-red solution tipped over with a snap, like a bowl of water falling to the ground.

The gray light passed through countless scattered glass fragments and pierced Meka's eyes!

Meka raised his hand, lit up the gray light, and said: "Yingadim, Leviosa."

The turbulent white light was like a big wave sweeping away the gray light and countless glass fragments, and stopped in mid-air.

A strong wind blew Meka's black hair, and also blew Peter Pettigrew's tattered robes flying.

Peter Pettigrew was also stuck in place. Although he gritted his teeth and struggled hard, he still couldn't move.

Meka stared at the wand in Peter Pettigrew's hand and asked, "I remember that you are a person who is afraid of death. Why would you do it at this time? Aren't you afraid that I would kill you for it?"

"Why?" Peter Pettigrew stared at him fiercely, only his eyes and mouth could move.

He looked ferocious, wishing he could eat the flesh and blood of the person in front of him alive:

"I am afraid of death, but I know you won't let me live. I can only survive if I kill you."

Meka said, "Oh!" and looked at him and asked, "Why do you think so?"

Peter Pettigrew stared at his clothes and said, "I remember Sirius's dog smell in my dreams. I was worried that he would suddenly come to kill me, so I had many dreams. I dreamed that he found me and his smell."

He looked at Meka suddenly: "And you have his smell on you. You must have met Sirius."

"So what?" Meka looked at him: "How do you know? He and I are not enemies. I may have saved you from him?"

Peter Pettigrew said, "Pooh!" and tried to spit the saliva in his mouth on Meka, but failed.

"Impossible, Sirius was once praised by Dumbledore, saying that he, like James, had excellent magical talent. Although I don't know how strong he is now, if you had fought him, you wouldn't be unscathed like this."

"Besides." He stared at Meka viciously, "I just asked you repeatedly if I could still help you, but you gave me a negative answer. I knew at that moment that I was no longer valuable to you."

"So that's it." Meka nodded suddenly and looked at Peter Pettigrew with approval: "I originally thought you were just a coward, but I didn't expect you to have this side."

He smiled: "Don't worry, I don't plan to kill you, and Sirius Black shouldn't kill you either. You will most likely end up in Azkaban because of your own guilt."

Peter Pettigrew was startled, but soon became ferocious again: "How do you know what kind of place Azkaban is..."

Meka turned a deaf ear to him, raised his hand and pointed, white light surged, and Peter Pettigrew's figure followed the glass fragments and was swept into the darkness in the corner.

Meka looked at the bright red blood on the ground, he had no choice but to chant a spell, took out a new bottle to pick it up, and then turned and left.

...

Half an hour later, Meka completed the final embellishment of the bloody rose, a red light swept across each petal of the bloody rose, and the color of the bloody rose faded a little, becoming old, as if it was originally in the painting.

Walking further away and looking at the whole portrait, he nodded with satisfaction:

"The 'Runes' are completed, and the only thing left is the Elf language."

This technique of drawing the 'Runes' is something that was developed hundreds of years ago, and therefore, the spell must also be written in the Elf language that was still popular among the fairies hundreds of years ago.

And he had already inquired about this:

"Professor Flitwick knows a lot of Elf language."

……

……