The Long Night

The house was darker than usual, with piles of dilapidated old items forming small mountains. The rustling sounds came from unknown dark creatures hiding in their garbage nests, and the rotten, dusty smell indicated that this was a forgotten place.

Outside the high windows of the dome, a thick blanket of dark clouds blocked out all light.

In this thick gloom, a dazzling golden light shines brightly, like a blooming sunflower.

Loren ceased Legilimency, and the golden light of the contract on his finger faded, plunging the room back into thick darkness.

"Headmaster Dumbledore always wanted me to be a saint, but there are no saints in this world. Even he was quite irritable when he was young... I'm sorry, besides, I'm not that interested in Voldemort's information..."

Loren spoke calmly in a low voice, seemingly to himself, yet also as if addressing Wormtail Peter, "However, I still don't want to disappoint the headmaster. Let's go with the wizard's method. What do you think, Mr. Wormtail?"

"What, what do you mean?"

Wormtail Peter trembled as he looked up. The face with black hair and black eyes was expressionless, almost inhuman. The scene of being executed by the twelve kinds of torture kept replaying in his mind. An unprecedented fear of death gripped his heart like two hands, making his whole body stiff.

"It means..." Loren reached to his chest, making a retrieval motion, and a moment later, a smooth black pebble appeared in his hand. He smiled gently at Wormtail Peter, "Dementor's Kiss."

Wormtail Peter's eyes widened suddenly, and before he could react, the pebble was already stuck to his forehead.

The stones were icy cold, which made Wormtail Peter shiver. The chill penetrated his skin, went straight to the depths of his brain, and spread throughout his body along his bone marrow, as if to freeze him completely.

Loren withdrew his finger, and the Soul Stone was now fixed between Wormtail Peter's eyebrows.

When he first obtained the Soul Stone Soul Stone on the yacht, he discovered that it possessed the same Magic Power as the Dementor, capable of absorbing a person's emotions, memories, and even soul.

He forged the first Soul Stone into the Mirror of Bloody Mary, enhancing his abilities in memory and soul. The second Soul Stone, obtained on the Hogwarts Express, is now used as a torture device.

Loren stood indifferently to the side, watching as a thin layer of white frost gradually covered the entire body of the short, stout middle-aged man in front of him, while the alien Magic Power representing the soul continued to converge towards the pebble.

He sided with Voldemort, betrayed the Potter couple, and murdered 12 Muggle to frame others.

He didn't know why such criminals weren't executed by the Ministry of Magic; perhaps England had abolished the death penalty... A cold smile tugged at the corner of Loren's mouth.

Wormtail Peter's bluish face was drawn and stretched by some invisible Magic Power, converging on the black stone. After an unknown amount of time, his mouth slightly opened, and a small ball of bluish-green light floated out, gradually rising higher.

Loren stared at the luminous light, recalling descriptions of Dementor in his mind.

Under the influence of Dementor, wizards will feel the light and warmth around them being drained, gradually plunging into darkness and cold. Courage and hope fade, and fear and emptiness gradually take over their hearts. If they cannot be rescued in time, their souls will ultimately be devoured.

It's not killing; the brain and heart are still functioning, so it can live even without a soul, but it no longer has self-awareness, no memory, nothing at all. And there is absolutely no hope of recovery—just an empty, living shell.

So... this faint glimmer of light is the soul of Wormtail Peter?

Another question arose in his mind: if the joy and hope that the Dementor absorb evoke fear and nothingness, then does fear still remain in the empty shell after the soul is absorbed?

Or perhaps all emotions and memories have been absorbed, leaving the body in a vegetative state.

As the radiant light was completely absorbed by the Soul Stone under the pull of its suction, a tear seeped from Wormtail Peter's eye, frozen by the icy chill, turning into an ice bead on the frost. Finally, he twitched once more, and remained motionless.

Perhaps in his final moments he recalled happy memories, perhaps he repented for his betrayal, perhaps he regretted provoking Loren Morgan...

Loren didn't care. He extended his wand and flicked it, and the frost-covered Soul Stone detached from Wormtail Peter's forehead and fell into his hand.

The moment he touched it, Loren felt a slight dizziness, and a chilling coldness began to spread through him.

Loren pointed his wand at his palm: "[Patronus Charm]"

A silvery-white light shot out from the tip of the wand, swirling around the fair palm and conforming to form a protective film.

Loren carefully examined the Soul Stone, which was now larger than before. The smooth black stone emanated the dark Magic Power of the Dementor, with specks of faint greenish light mixed in with the darkness. It seemed that the Soul Stone had not yet digested the soul, crushing it into dust-like powder.

With a gentle flick of the staff tip, a thin thread of the surging silver-white Patronus radiance separated, extending towards the Soul Stone. It skillfully and delicately bypassed the dark Magic Power, touching a tiny spark of spiritual light.

Bang.

With a muffled thud, an invisible Magic Power burst forth, creating a slow wave of air that swept and dispersed the surrounding air.

Its power is not strong, about the strength of a gentle breeze.

Loren raised an eyebrow. Although he had always heard Dumbledore talk about the unparalleled Magic Power of the soul and love, he was somewhat surprised to see such a small fragment of the soul unleash such a powerful impact simply from being touched, without any magical activation.

So the soul truly contains powerful Magic Power, and Harry's mother used the Magic Power of love in her soul to cast a protective spell. To this day, Voldemort is still powerless against this protective spell.

However, this kind of Magic Power is difficult to use, and even the user themselves find it difficult to control.

After staring at the Magic Power within the Soul Stone for a while, Loren suddenly remembered something Voldemort had mentioned...

Dumbledore championed love, Gryffindor courage, Ravenclaw had wisdom, Hufflepuff had integrity and kindness, Slytherin had a reverence for honor... all because their souls contained powerful magic.

There are also the Herpo the Foul, the mysterious Poet Beedle, and even Death, as Flamel mentioned.

Could it be... that this distinctive trait is the path to discovering soul magic and the method to control extraordinary Magic Power?

Loren's thoughts yielded no results; after all, he was only a third-year wizard. Asking Flamel would likely not yield any definite answer either; he'd been brushed off like that last time.

Take it slow. He's still a long way from Dumbledore's level.

Loren put the Soul Stone into a small wooden box and then put it back into the pendant. The Room of Requirement was quiet except for the rustling sounds of Doxy Gnome, House-elf, and elves. Although he tried to convince himself not to have any fantasies, he couldn't help but let his imagination run wild.

If it were you, what traits should you choose?

wisdom?

Although he is indeed very intelligent, his intelligence seems to be quite different from Ravenclaw's.

courage?

Hmm... Although he is a Gryffindor and is indeed very brave, this word doesn't seem to suit him very well.

Justice and kindness?

Loren glanced at Wormtail Peter, who was practically in a vegetative state, and then, thinking about his own actions, realized that the word "pettiger" didn't seem quite right.

No, punishing evil is promoting good, and I am a kind and righteous person!

A series of traits flashed through his mind, but Loren shook his head and smiled, "Tsk, too many advantages, it's a bit hard to choose."

Composing himself, Loren began to deal with the crime scene. Looking at the white frost that had melted on Wormtail Peter's body and his chest that rose and fell slightly with his breathing, he cast a Levitation Charm to lift him up.

The Room of Requirement would still be useful in the future, and Loren didn't want this body to wither and rot here, so he was too lazy to set it on fire.

Loren casually tore a piece of parchment from the piles of discarded items on either side, and left the Room of Requirement with the two items in his hands. Passing the tapestry where Silly Barnaby and the troll were sleeping together, he arrived at a window on the Seventh Floor.

The night was thick and dark outside, and the windows of the high-rise building were especially cold. Looking at Wormtail Peter's face, Loren suddenly felt bored; all he wanted now was to get back and see a girl.

With a gentle tap of the wand on the parchment, the yellowed, tattered paper suddenly came to life, folding itself into a "V" shape and flapping its paper wings out of the window. Outside the Castle, the parchment grew in the wind, its paper wings expanding and growing larger, even sprouting feathers, transforming into Hippogriff.

Loren waved again, and the unconscious Wormtail Peter squeezed out of the window, only to be grabbed by the collar by the winged beast's two front claws and hung in mid-air.

The Transfiguration is enough to sustain him until he flies out of the school. Tomorrow morning, someone will find Wormtail Peter, who has been kissed into a vegetative Dementor by the Dementors...

The fugitive was brought to justice, the Dementor was framed, and everyone was happy.

No matter who investigates, this matter has absolutely nothing to do with a law-abiding third-grade student.

"Go on." Loren patted the winged beast's head.

The paper winged beast conjured by the Transfiguration let out a soft cry, flapped its wings, and flew away. Pulling the middle-aged man along, the two figures quickly disappeared into the thick darkness of the night.

The window of the Headmaster's office.

The clouds in the sky grew thicker and thicker, completely obscuring the moon, which should have had a gap in its shape. Only when the wind picked up occasionally could a sliver of light peek through, revealing the shape of the dark clouds.

Experienced elders can determine the moon's position, knowing that this silvery disc also rises in the east and sets in the west, moving from one end of the mountain to the other, while the moon is still in the eastern sky, which means that the night will still be long.

Phoenix with bright red feathers stood by the window.

Dumbledore wore a white cotton nightgown adorned with blue star and moon patterns, his long white beard tied in a silk scarf. He held a steaming cup of cocoa in his hand, watching the shadowy figures of a man and a beast fly away until they disappeared completely into the night.

"It's not what I expected..." Dumbledore tapped his index finger on the porcelain cup, the golden pattern on his fingertip flashing by. "I thought he would at least use torture to extract some information, but it seems he doesn't care much about Tom."

The Phoenix perched on the windowsill tilted its head and looked at him, its feathers fluttering a few times. "Chirp?"

"Surveillance? Of course not. I merely sensed the contract being triggered but not broken, and it remains in effect." Dumbledore gave it a reproachful look. "Fawkes, do you think I'm such a harsh person?"

Fawkes nodded. "Chirp!"

Dumbledore smiled, picked up his porcelain cup and took a small sip. "Perhaps he appears too mature, has grown up too quickly, and sometimes we forget that he is only 13 years old... Fawkes, what was I like when I was 13?"

"Chirp".

"If it were me, I would have gone even further... After all, lies and secrets, hatred and loathing, that's how I grew up on my mother's lap." Dumbledore blue eyes reflected the night, appearing gray and somewhat dim.

"Chirp?"

"How should we tell the Ministry of Magic? Why should we tell the Ministry of Magic? This has nothing to do with Hogwarts."

After walking down the long corridor, Loren arrived at the entrance to the Portrait Hole. He was lucky; the Fat Lady hadn't gone to visit any other frames.

Loren woke the Fat Lady was sleeping with her head drooping and gave her the password for the night: "Light of Wonderland".

"Naughty little wizard, out for a night stroll again!" The Fat Lady looked up, rubbed her eyes, and grumbled with displeasure. Despite her displeasure, she still had no choice but to open the cave door.

Loren climbed through the Portrait Hole and entered the Common Room.

The candlesticks on the surrounding walls had long since gone out, leaving only the faint glow of the remaining firewood in the fireplace, illuminating a small area in front of it.

Hearing footsteps, the girl in the black shirt came running over quickly like the wind.

"Loren!" Hermione's eyes sparkled as she threw herself into Loren's arms.

The girl's shirt was made of a delicate and soft material, but even softer than the fabric was her body. It was so soft and fluffy that you could clearly feel the warmth emanating from Hermione through the shirt, even more comfortable than the Cat Hair of Crookshanks cat.

The Room of Requirement, Wormtail, Dementor's Kiss... all seemed to be driven away by this embrace. When you know that there is a girl waiting for you to come back by the fireplace, the whole world seems to calm down.

Loren couldn't help but smile, burying his head in the girl's neck and taking a deep breath. "Mmm, she still smells sweet."

Hermione sniffed it too, and replied sullenly, "You still smell bad."

Loren immediately released his embrace and quickly changed the subject. "How long have you been waiting?"

Hermione: "..."

All those complicated feelings vanished in an instant, and Hermione was somewhat speechless. "I've been waiting since you left, and I've been waiting until now."

So Loren scratched his head and chuckled foolishly.

Looking at this person, Hermione smiled, pursing her lips.

How was the Wormtail dealt with? Were there any traces left? Should we go find Dumbledore...? She had prepared a whole host of questions, but the moment she saw him, Hermione didn't want to ask anything anymore.

Anyway, it's good that you're back.

In the dimly lit lounge, the girl's clear voice broke the silence. "Would you like something to eat?"

"Want!"

"I still have some snacks in my pendant. Remember to take a shower after you finish eating, and make sure you're clean."

"Huh? You don't like my taste?"

"Um."

"I'm not washing anymore, I'm never taking a bath again, you'll stink to death!"

"..."